Folks say in a lifetime you have one good dog and one good horse. I reckon I’ve had a few of each.
When Mony Smith and I packed up our belongings in the summer of 1960, we brought along his German Shepherd. After scouring northwest Arkansas looking for teaching jobs we ended up in Huntsville, Ark. I taught biology and he taught sixth grade. It wasn’t hard to get teaching jobs in Arkansas, they only paid $2,700 a year and anyone that graduated high school could get a certificate to teach. Because I had many science hours, the federal government paid half my salary – which is probably why they hired us to teach.
Here came these two six foot tall cowboys in a pickup truck with a big old dog in the back. Rebel the German Shepherd was a two man dog. One night at a dance some fortified guys told my late brother-in-law Charles, that they wanted to pick a fight with us to see what we were made of. He nodded and said, “Well you better know if you go outside there are three of us. And that police dog might be tougher than both of us.”
We bought a wild hog at an auction and he got out one day. We were on his trail and I figured he’d be gone in no time, about then Reb got the clue I guess that we wanted him. He rushed in and got him by the ear and kept the hog there, until we got there. From then on he was a hog catching dog, and he caught some big hogs.
One snowy Christmas break we were down on Lee’s Creek helping a friend run some barb wire. He had a little cabin and we were staying down there. Our friend answered the call of nature in the middle of the night and went out in the cold. But when he reached for the door knob Reb had him by the wrist. Not biting hard but he had a hold and would not let him open the door. Scared him to death and we rolled out to assure Reb he was with us.
My oldest daughter Anna was little, crawling on the kitchen floor when she got close to the screen door – he was outside it and growled at her. Pat, Mony and I had to make a decision that night. That choice was find Rebel a home where there were no kids.
We called our good friend, Ken Rose, and he gave him a home. He came up to get him and we chained Reb in the back of his truck. Then we told him to slide food and water to him for three days, if he didn’t make friends with him in that time, he’d have to destroy him. Reb took to his new owner and even slept with the old man.
A few years later we got a sad letter Reb met his end fighting with an old cow in the brush and the man was devastated, but we knew that Reb had lived a good life.
Till next time may the good Lord bless and keep you.
Western novelist Dusty Richards and his wife Pat live on Beaver Lake in northwest Arkansas. For more information about his books you can email Dusty by visiting ozarksfn.com and clicking on ‘Contact Us’ or call 1-866-532-1960.
