Most of us have had the privilege of having pets in our lives. Pets come in many different varieties and sizes. Some things that people call pets don’t seem to fit into that category, but that is a matter of individual tastes. Personally I don’t envision a snake as a “pet”!
I prefer a pet that is affectionate and will return affection and caring. Dogs and cats are the most common pets we all deal with in some way or another. Both can be loving and even caring for us in usual and unusual ways.
Growing up on the farm gave me opportunity to have many pets of many kinds. The rule on the farm was; the pet must be able to perform a function. In other words, it had to be useful to those that gave it food and care.
I know that there was a dog named Jack on the farm but that dog was mostly before my being aware there were such things as pets. The dog I grew up with was a mongrel named Muggins.
Muggins was a black and white, medium sized dog with a stump of a tail, which wagged endlessly even though there was nothing moving except his hind quarters. When he was happy, he was happy all over. His whole body would move in spasms of delight. His greeting on seeing any of us was instant and joyous.
Barking wasn’t his usual greeting, but often he just could not contain himself and would let fly with a series of barks that showed such dedication and joy that it was impossible to miss his enthusiasm over seeing any of us. He truly embodied the soul and spirit of a grand companion, watch dog and protector.
Muggins was my constant companion outdoors. Mother never, to my knowledge, allowed a dog in the house, not even Muggins. We never asked, because we knew the answer. He was always close by to bark a welcome or just sidle up beside you for an affectionate pat on the head, or in my case, a huge hug.
I was first aware of Muggins as a very small boy. As I said, he seemed to be always there from the time I could first remember. He was a family member, one with profound respect for his farm duties and dedication to his job of protectorate of one young boy, ME.
Muggins and I would wander the fields of our eighty acre farm, looking for whatever we might come across, and there was a lot to investigate and explore.
I was one small boy that turned over rocks to look for bugs or chased down snakes that seemed to move endlessly about the farm. This duo dug holes in the pasture/fields to see if the gophers were close by or just wandered endlessly exploring our world. All was investigated with a thoroughness of a master crime inspector. This often sent dirt flying five feet into the air as Muggins dug for that elusive creature just below the surface.
We had great fun. All I would have to do is say, “Sikum!” and point. Muggins would immediately start digging. I am sure he had no idea what for but out of duty to me he would vigorously dig. His nose would be buried in the dirt, sniffing and snorting in response to dirt up his tender nose. He always obliged me by digging for whatever I was after and looking to me to see if he had done it well enough. We spent countless hours thus energized and committed to the tasks at hand.
Muggins had an obsession about protecting me and watch out for me he did. He often circled me as we explored the meadows, woods and fields. Mother used to say there was little worry about me with Muggins about.
Visitors often came upon Muggins protective nature quite by accident. My sister had a boyfriend that came to visit once. He was a likeable fellow and seemed to join into the family fun. We had been visiting out on the back yard grass when the boy friend took me by the shoulders and began having fun with me, play fighting and acting like he was shaking me. Of course I shrieked with delight.
Muggins didn’t like the fracas and tried to stop the proceedings. He barked a warning and dove for the leg of the boyfriend. Fortunately the boyfriend sidestepped quickly and kept me between him and the dog until my parents were able to calm the dog. When he unhanded me, Muggins again returned to the docile pet I knew. However his demeanor showed much more caution and distrust of this new visitor.
The event was something out of character for the dog and it surprised all of us to see his reaction. The family then knew that they would have to deal with the dog if they were going to handle me in a way that the dog didn’t like. From then on all physical punishment, if there was any, was done in the house. The dog simply would not allow any one to put a hand on me if I objected.
When the two of us were out and about on the farm, Muggins was constantly moving in circles around me. It was companionable to me to have the dog with me as we explored our woods and fields. I can never remember ever feeling afraid of any thing. Together we explored just about every square foot of the home farm land.
Mother often remarked that she felt sorry for the snakes and other moving things we found. For a while we did make a dent in the snake population on the farm. If it was a snake all I had to say was, “Sikum” and he would grab the snake somewhere in the middle and shake until the life was shaken out of it. Snakes did become somewhat of a curiosity and we didn’t put an end to so many of them after that.
Having a constant guard, while I tramped around the eighty acres, was a blessing to mother and I suppose to the others on the farm. There was not so much to worry about because I was well protected. However Muggins could not protect me from every thing.
While we were exploring the woods, I came upon an animal that I was not familiar with. It had holed up in a hollow tree. The dog became quite excited and began his dance of intent, as I used to call it. He jumped about barking with agitation, much more than I had ever seen him do before.
He dug furiously at the bottom of the tree. The dirt fairly flew in all directions while I stood with awe and wonder trying to comprehend the sudden energetic actions. The hair on his back stood on end. His actions became more determined as he danced up and down and around the opening in the tree. Obviously this was something special and I truly wanted to see what it was. It was my turn to become determined to see what this creature was.
I tried pushing the dog aside but to no avail, he was resolute to get at whatever was in the tree. This certainly piqued my interest and I finally was able to push the dog aside to get a better look up inside the tree hollow.
It was a very dark hole. I could see nothing but was determined to find what I thought was a “rabbit” in the tree. I needed to get the “rabbit” out of the tree where I could get a hold of it. Muggins also seemed to be adamant about getting to the cornered animal in the tree hollow.
Nearby I found a rather good sized stick, just the right size to poke up into the tree. I could feel the stick poking the animal. Whatever it was took hold of the stick and wouldn’t let it go. This annoyed me. The stick finally dropped. Impatiently I pressed on with action and resolve. Now I was more determined than ever to get it out in the open.
My six year old mind was certain I should get the “rabbit” out of the tree and the dog continued his jig about the tree, barking frantically. As I have thought back over the incident in ensuing years, it was quite evident that Muggins was telling me to go no farther, let it be. But instead of paying attention to the dog, I bent down and proceeded to put my hand up into the tree to grab the reluctant animal.
What happened next has been forever seared in my experiencing phase of growing up.
There was a sharp searing, stabbing pain at the end of my hand which brought cries of desperation on my part. This absolutely sent the dog into spasms of frantic barking and furious digging at the base of the tree.
You can imagine the usually happy duo now, one frantically barking, and the other shrieking at the top of his little lungs. Something was wrong and neither one of them knew how to deal with the situation.
Fortunately there was a hired man working in the field just across the fence not more than a quarter mile away. I don’t know how he got over the fence and to us so quickly, but he was at my side almost instantly it seemed.
My hand was bleeding copiously and I was missing the tip of my longest finger on my right hand. The hired man scooped me up and ran to the house with me. His concern was equal to that of the dog. His labored breathing as he presented me to mother was evidence of that. Mother had heard us coming but was not really prepared for the disaster that presented itself to her.
Medical facilities were not the norm in our rural area. Mother was the one called upon when the doctor made house calls that needed assistance. She nursed everyone including me.
The finger was cleaned and bandaged. The concern and worry crossed her worried brow as it did the hired man, who looked out for me like a father while dad was away working.
Cleaned and bandaged and considerably more calmed down, mother took me on her lap and sang while she rocked me in the big comfy old rocking chair with the carved swans on the arms. She had a special way of singing she used to soothe all of us kids. It had no words only sounds, but it worked wonders to bring comfort and calm to us and me in particular.
The hired man returned with the dog to the troublesome tree. The dog let him know that whatever it was had not left the tree. He was frantic to get at the culprit that had injured his master and scouting buddy.
Gathering a few sticks and other burnable debris, the hired man built a fire at the base of the tree, not setting the tree on fire but producing a lot of smoke that filled the hollow of the tree.
It wasn’t but a few moments until the “rabbit” dropped down and attempted to scramble away. Muggins went into action, grabbing the animal by the neck and shaking with decided intent.
The large brown “rabbit” turned out to be a groundhog with very long sharp teeth. The inch long front teeth could easily be capable of chomping off more than the tip of a finger offered by the six-year-old.
The hired man brought the groundhog back to the house to show both mother and me. I don’t remember being afraid of the animal but looked at the dead animal was a mixture of awe and curiosity. The dark fur was thick and full ready for winter. Apparently he was ready to hibernate and we interrupted him.
It was a sad end to one of God’s creatures. We both were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The finger grew back eventually. I still have a small scar on the tip of my middle finger that reminds me to be careful and don’t put my hands where I cannot see.
We moved from the farm when I was in the fourth grade. By that time Muggins was only a memory. I have never forgotten the pride he showed in taking care of me, greeting me when I had been away for a short while, or the absolute devotion he exhibited so often through the years he lived with us. Muggins was one of God’s beautiful creatures and I loved him dearly.
I prefer a pet that is affectionate and will return affection and caring. Dogs and cats are the most common pets we all deal with in some way or another. Both can be loving and even caring for us in usual and unusual ways.
Growing up on the farm gave me opportunity to have many pets of many kinds. The rule on the farm was; the pet must be able to perform a function. In other words, it had to be useful to those that gave it food and care.
I know that there was a dog named Jack on the farm but that dog was mostly before my being aware there were such things as pets. The dog I grew up with was a mongrel named Muggins.
Muggins was a black and white, medium sized dog with a stump of a tail, which wagged endlessly even though there was nothing moving except his hind quarters. When he was happy, he was happy all over. His whole body would move in spasms of delight. His greeting on seeing any of us was instant and joyous.
Barking wasn’t his usual greeting, but often he just could not contain himself and would let fly with a series of barks that showed such dedication and joy that it was impossible to miss his enthusiasm over seeing any of us. He truly embodied the soul and spirit of a grand companion, watch dog and protector.
Muggins was my constant companion outdoors. Mother never, to my knowledge, allowed a dog in the house, not even Muggins. We never asked, because we knew the answer. He was always close by to bark a welcome or just sidle up beside you for an affectionate pat on the head, or in my case, a huge hug.
I was first aware of Muggins as a very small boy. As I said, he seemed to be always there from the time I could first remember. He was a family member, one with profound respect for his farm duties and dedication to his job of protectorate of one young boy, ME.
Muggins and I would wander the fields of our eighty acre farm, looking for whatever we might come across, and there was a lot to investigate and explore.
I was one small boy that turned over rocks to look for bugs or chased down snakes that seemed to move endlessly about the farm. This duo dug holes in the pasture/fields to see if the gophers were close by or just wandered endlessly exploring our world. All was investigated with a thoroughness of a master crime inspector. This often sent dirt flying five feet into the air as Muggins dug for that elusive creature just below the surface.
We had great fun. All I would have to do is say, “Sikum!” and point. Muggins would immediately start digging. I am sure he had no idea what for but out of duty to me he would vigorously dig. His nose would be buried in the dirt, sniffing and snorting in response to dirt up his tender nose. He always obliged me by digging for whatever I was after and looking to me to see if he had done it well enough. We spent countless hours thus energized and committed to the tasks at hand.
Muggins had an obsession about protecting me and watch out for me he did. He often circled me as we explored the meadows, woods and fields. Mother used to say there was little worry about me with Muggins about.
Visitors often came upon Muggins protective nature quite by accident. My sister had a boyfriend that came to visit once. He was a likeable fellow and seemed to join into the family fun. We had been visiting out on the back yard grass when the boy friend took me by the shoulders and began having fun with me, play fighting and acting like he was shaking me. Of course I shrieked with delight.
Muggins didn’t like the fracas and tried to stop the proceedings. He barked a warning and dove for the leg of the boyfriend. Fortunately the boyfriend sidestepped quickly and kept me between him and the dog until my parents were able to calm the dog. When he unhanded me, Muggins again returned to the docile pet I knew. However his demeanor showed much more caution and distrust of this new visitor.
The event was something out of character for the dog and it surprised all of us to see his reaction. The family then knew that they would have to deal with the dog if they were going to handle me in a way that the dog didn’t like. From then on all physical punishment, if there was any, was done in the house. The dog simply would not allow any one to put a hand on me if I objected.
When the two of us were out and about on the farm, Muggins was constantly moving in circles around me. It was companionable to me to have the dog with me as we explored our woods and fields. I can never remember ever feeling afraid of any thing. Together we explored just about every square foot of the home farm land.
Mother often remarked that she felt sorry for the snakes and other moving things we found. For a while we did make a dent in the snake population on the farm. If it was a snake all I had to say was, “Sikum” and he would grab the snake somewhere in the middle and shake until the life was shaken out of it. Snakes did become somewhat of a curiosity and we didn’t put an end to so many of them after that.
Having a constant guard, while I tramped around the eighty acres, was a blessing to mother and I suppose to the others on the farm. There was not so much to worry about because I was well protected. However Muggins could not protect me from every thing.
While we were exploring the woods, I came upon an animal that I was not familiar with. It had holed up in a hollow tree. The dog became quite excited and began his dance of intent, as I used to call it. He jumped about barking with agitation, much more than I had ever seen him do before.
He dug furiously at the bottom of the tree. The dirt fairly flew in all directions while I stood with awe and wonder trying to comprehend the sudden energetic actions. The hair on his back stood on end. His actions became more determined as he danced up and down and around the opening in the tree. Obviously this was something special and I truly wanted to see what it was. It was my turn to become determined to see what this creature was.
I tried pushing the dog aside but to no avail, he was resolute to get at whatever was in the tree. This certainly piqued my interest and I finally was able to push the dog aside to get a better look up inside the tree hollow.
It was a very dark hole. I could see nothing but was determined to find what I thought was a “rabbit” in the tree. I needed to get the “rabbit” out of the tree where I could get a hold of it. Muggins also seemed to be adamant about getting to the cornered animal in the tree hollow.
Nearby I found a rather good sized stick, just the right size to poke up into the tree. I could feel the stick poking the animal. Whatever it was took hold of the stick and wouldn’t let it go. This annoyed me. The stick finally dropped. Impatiently I pressed on with action and resolve. Now I was more determined than ever to get it out in the open.
My six year old mind was certain I should get the “rabbit” out of the tree and the dog continued his jig about the tree, barking frantically. As I have thought back over the incident in ensuing years, it was quite evident that Muggins was telling me to go no farther, let it be. But instead of paying attention to the dog, I bent down and proceeded to put my hand up into the tree to grab the reluctant animal.
What happened next has been forever seared in my experiencing phase of growing up.
There was a sharp searing, stabbing pain at the end of my hand which brought cries of desperation on my part. This absolutely sent the dog into spasms of frantic barking and furious digging at the base of the tree.
You can imagine the usually happy duo now, one frantically barking, and the other shrieking at the top of his little lungs. Something was wrong and neither one of them knew how to deal with the situation.
Fortunately there was a hired man working in the field just across the fence not more than a quarter mile away. I don’t know how he got over the fence and to us so quickly, but he was at my side almost instantly it seemed.
My hand was bleeding copiously and I was missing the tip of my longest finger on my right hand. The hired man scooped me up and ran to the house with me. His concern was equal to that of the dog. His labored breathing as he presented me to mother was evidence of that. Mother had heard us coming but was not really prepared for the disaster that presented itself to her.
Medical facilities were not the norm in our rural area. Mother was the one called upon when the doctor made house calls that needed assistance. She nursed everyone including me.
The finger was cleaned and bandaged. The concern and worry crossed her worried brow as it did the hired man, who looked out for me like a father while dad was away working.
Cleaned and bandaged and considerably more calmed down, mother took me on her lap and sang while she rocked me in the big comfy old rocking chair with the carved swans on the arms. She had a special way of singing she used to soothe all of us kids. It had no words only sounds, but it worked wonders to bring comfort and calm to us and me in particular.
The hired man returned with the dog to the troublesome tree. The dog let him know that whatever it was had not left the tree. He was frantic to get at the culprit that had injured his master and scouting buddy.
Gathering a few sticks and other burnable debris, the hired man built a fire at the base of the tree, not setting the tree on fire but producing a lot of smoke that filled the hollow of the tree.
It wasn’t but a few moments until the “rabbit” dropped down and attempted to scramble away. Muggins went into action, grabbing the animal by the neck and shaking with decided intent.
The large brown “rabbit” turned out to be a groundhog with very long sharp teeth. The inch long front teeth could easily be capable of chomping off more than the tip of a finger offered by the six-year-old.
The hired man brought the groundhog back to the house to show both mother and me. I don’t remember being afraid of the animal but looked at the dead animal was a mixture of awe and curiosity. The dark fur was thick and full ready for winter. Apparently he was ready to hibernate and we interrupted him.
It was a sad end to one of God’s creatures. We both were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The finger grew back eventually. I still have a small scar on the tip of my middle finger that reminds me to be careful and don’t put my hands where I cannot see.
We moved from the farm when I was in the fourth grade. By that time Muggins was only a memory. I have never forgotten the pride he showed in taking care of me, greeting me when I had been away for a short while, or the absolute devotion he exhibited so often through the years he lived with us. Muggins was one of God’s beautiful creatures and I loved him dearly.
-16.jpg)
