THE MILKMAN’S DOG DAN
The milkman’s dog Dan was half and half, shepherd and collie, his father being a full-blood shepherd, and his beautiful mother, whom he did not remember, being Scotch collie. Shep, his father, lived all his life—and he attained a ripe old age—on the place where he was born and raised.
Dan loved the dairy farm. The fresh, foaming milk that remained in the straining pails was always his, and the cats had all they could drink of it. Also there were lots of rats and rabbits to chase. In fact, it was an ideal place for a dog of his tastes to live. He knew all the cows by name. It was necessary only to tell him to bring up the cows—“all but Bess and Jane,” and he would do it. Starting the herd ahead, he would get in front of those two young heifers, and, separating them from the rest, chase them back to the woods pasture again.
The trip into town to deliver the milk—how much fun he got out of that! It was no hardship to be aroused from his comfortable, warm bed in the straw, and to have the driver say, “Come on, old boy, we are ready to start.”
Dan would stretch himself, yawn, and indicate by this that he, too, was ready. He would sit beside the driver, and off they would go through the early dawn and the frosty air.
Dan was always pleased when they delivered milk to houses where there were little children, and at the hospitals where the patients were waiting to have it for their breakfasts. At one house the driver would leave a double portion, because there were twin boys there. Dan hoped that some day he would get to see these little boys. Then one day something happened that they were delayed. It was later than usual when they were returning home, and, as they were passing by the house where the twins lived, Dan had his wish, for there they were, sitting on the lawn. Each had a bottle of milk, and they were drinking away as contentedly as could be.
How happy Dan was to think he had helped in this way to furnish food for those adorable twins!
They drove on down the street and passed the children’s hospital. There, out in the sun, he caught a glimpse of wheeled chairs with children in them. On stands beside many of them were glasses of milk, perhaps from Dan’s dairy. (At least he felt a proprietary interest in it.) Also at the school-lunch counters, he saw the children drinking milk. Then he got to thinking, what if he did have to work rather hard bringing up the cows and helping around the barn, wasn’t it worth while? What would become of all these children if he didn’t work?
The other dogs hoped he would keep on at his present occupation, as most of them liked milk themselves. Especially were Pixie and Petite anxious that there should always be milk for making the good things of which they were fond.
Few of them had ever seen the milkman’s dog before, as he made his trips before it was their hour for rising. They were eager for him to tell more about himself and his family, so he promised to tell the story of his grandfather, Sandy, who had been a useful and faithful member of dogdom.
In the days of horse-drawn vehicles, some dogs had a foolish habit of running in front of every horse they saw coming, and barking at their heels. Of course, none of the dogs in this group knew anything about this bad habit. It was before their day. Now, Sandy despised this ill-mannered action, and would stop it every time he had a chance. The young dogs on the place where he lived wouldn’t have dared to do it. He had them trained. But some other dogs were not so well raised. Sitting at the corner where two roads crossed, he would watch, and, whenever a dog would start barking at a horse, he would go after the dog and give him what he deserved.