PETER ON THE FARM
It was now vacation time and Pete and his master were anticipating a good time. Ralph and Mabel usually spent a part of the time on their grandfather’s farm, and Pete was going along. At Grandfather’s there were two small dogs, but that would be all right with Pete, who acted in a big-brotherly way toward them, sharing with them whatever he had to eat.
There was just one quarter from which Peter would allow no interference. That was from a goat that roamed at will over the place. Until this visit to the farm, he had never seen a goat. His first encounter with this one had been quite disastrous to Pete’s pride; so, having no wish to repeat the set-to, he left the goat with the butting disposition severely alone.
Although Pete, in accordance with his good mother’s teachings, was generous with the small dogs, there was one thing he would not permit. That was their following him to the bone cemetery. This was forbidden ground. Out in the orchard, under the apple trees, where the earth was mellow, was his favorite, exclusive spot.
If Pete observed the others following him to the orchard, he would chase them back and tell them to stay there. Then he would feast and enjoy to his heart’s content the gnawing of those delicious, earth-seasoned morsels. This always carried him back to the time when his father and he had gnawed the bone in the garden at home. Thus Shep had revealed to his son the social side of his nature. The small dogs learned to respect Pete’s privacy and stayed away.
Peter was trained to help Ralph bring up the cattle from the pasture. On several occasions, when it was raining, he brought them in alone. In the lot was Duke, the king of the herd. Usually he was a safe and docile animal, but one evening something seemed to be wrong. Duke was in an ugly mood, pawing and bellowing at a great rate, and refusing to be lined up with the cows.
Peter Helps Bring the Cattle from the Pasture
Ralph struck Duke with a gad, which was a great mistake on the boy’s part. The animal charged. Ralph ducked and ran for a near-by tree, climbing up before the bull reached him.
Pete did his best to help his master. He barked and snapped at the enemy, but to no avail. He then looked up at Ralph, as much as to say, “What more can I do?”
“Get Grandpa,” the boy called to him.
Off Pete ran, over the fence, and on to the house. In a little while, back he bounded with Grandfather and the hired man following, with weapons of defense to liberate the prisoner. And so Peter proved to be the hero of the day.
The summer was one of profit and pleasure both to the dogs and the children. Grandmother knew how to make the most delicious cookies, which Pete shared along with the children. He helped hunt the eggs. Finding a nest, he would stand and wag his tail until they got the eggs. He also assisted in rounding up the young poultry to be shut in for the night.
When the work was all done, the children and the dogs would go through the woods to the old swimming hole. While the boy and his sister were enjoying the water, the dogs found many things to attract their attention. One of them would stir up a chipmunk or a rabbit. Then all would give chase. If the little creature went into a hole in the ground, it fell to Pete, as the largest and strongest, to dig it out, while the others would stand off, barking their encouragement. When at last he would find it, Pete would permit no torturing of their prey; it must be killed skillfully and at once.
The time passed all too quickly. School soon would open. Mabel and Ralph were entering high school. Pete was now a dignified, full-grown dog, looking like his father, Shep, but having the gentle disposition of his mother, Susie.
Although he was not a quarrelsome dog, and never attacked a dog smaller than himself, still Peter was all dog. In reading these records of this grown-up puppy’s doings, we must remember that he was without royal ancestry. He was not registered as to pedigree, but was just an ordinary, middle-class dog, with a high sense of honor, inherited from honest parent dogs.
The bull dog, whose name was Joe, was growing old and slow of gait. He and Pete had become fast friends. Time had taken some of the arrogance out of his manner. He had been condescending in his attitude toward Pete, but now he showed more interest and some affection. It was pathetic to note Pete’s deference for the old chap. Perhaps that had something to do with his change of heart. Were they out for a walk, Pete would run on ahead, and then wait for the old dog to catch up, or run back to him and walk slowly beside him.
The time came when old Joe was unable to go out. He would sit outside his kennel dozing, having not even strength enough to snap at the flies that bothered him. Pete spent a great deal of time with him. He would lie nearby sleeping, or would drink in a social way from Joe’s drinking pan. He did many other little comforting things to show good comradeship.
One very warm day the dogs were panting with the heat. Their tongues were lolling out of their mouths, and they drank a great deal of water, Pete taking the last drop. Soon poor old Joe, bending down to get a drink, found the pan dry. Pete jumped up and, taking the edge of the pan in his mouth, ran to the screen door, where he scratched until the cook came. Then he lifted the empty pan to her to be filled.
One morning, a short while after this hot spell, Pete came to see his old friend, whom he had learned really to love. The bull dog was missing from his customary place, so Pete looked into the kennel. There lay poor old Joe, dead. This was Pete’s first experience with that mysterious condition. His reaction was only normal and doglike, for he proceeded to eat up the remnants of the bull dog’s supper, drank all the water, and then ran off to find a live dog to play with. Dogs seldom show grief for their own kind.