When he
went out to catch the
horses, (work horses) he would walk up to them anywhere, and catch them.
He never used grain to catch one. Now when one of them decided it didn't
want to be caught, it would trot off. Uncle Ivan would holler for that
old yeller dog that was always sulking around. He would sic that dog on
the horse, after two trips around the 80 they would literally come up to
him and shove their head in the bridle. Pretty impressive stuff for a
kid like me. I usually hoped they would try for three. This was not
without cost to some of the dogs. There were several dogs in those days
that had an eye turned up, or completely knocked out.
Cows
were scared to death of him too. My grandma could take a bucket and cane
bottom chair out to where the cows were, and milk enough for the house
and for the separator. Those cows never moved, and she never grained
them either. They knew what that dog was capable of. Now I don't know
how tough these dogs were, but one of them could jerk down a full grown
hog. I remember one time we had to sew up the side of a hog because it's
guts were about to fall out where that dog happened to catch it.
Needless
to say I always begged to be left there for the two weeks we were in
Missouri. Here was potential excitement. My uncle taught me how to cuss,
and tried to teach me how to chew. My folks didn't appreciate this
much, but I thought he was next to God, because he had horses and cows
and a dog that I was constantly trying to get him to sic on something.
So you can see, as a youngster I thought the only time you used a dog
was when you were mad or wanted to punish something.
Later
on my folks decided to move to Missouri and try to farm for a living. My
world of riding horses was coming to an end. We moved to southwest
Missouri, rented a farm, got a few milk cows, some hogs, and chickens,
but no horse. It would be 9 years before I got back on a real cowhorse.
My dad bought a C Farmall tractor and only borrowed a team when we
picked corn.
But,
my Uncle Ivan gave me a pup. When it grew up, it was great. He was a
pure sic-um-go-get-your-fence-fixing-equip dog. Every critter on the
farm dreaded me and that dog. Things really went to hell when my folks
would go to town on Saturdays and leave me there by myself. To say he
would bite would be an understatement. By today's standards he probably
didn't have "power", but the critters on that place didn't
stop to check. When he showed up they were usually in a high lope before
they got their head up from grazing.
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