The Superior Express -

A while back one of our granddaughters asked if I ever had any pets. I suppose she wondered since we didn’t have a farm dog, and the cats we have are pretty wild because they are just farm cats, meant to hunt out mice and rats. After living on a farm most of my life, I’ve had quite a few pets through the years. As a farmer’s daughter and later as a farmwife, I learned not to become too close to the livestock at an early age. Little calves and piglets are sweet. Soon they grow up and are sold at the sale barn, butchered to put food on the table, or are used as replacements in the herds. When my sons were little and calves were born during the hard winter, they were brought into the house to warm up. Some even ended up being bottle fed. The boys would usually name those calves and enjoyed playing with them, but they were warned about the calves’ future and quickly learned it’s the farm-livestock way of life.

Growing up I did have pet dogs and pups. Blondie Sue was the first I remember. She was certainly loved by my sister and me for several years. Next there was a boxer dog we named Lady. She had a couple litters of puppies that we girls adored. We hated it when the puppies had to be given away. Next came my rat terrier, Pepper or Peppy, the dog was a mover and loved to run. Peppy’s life ended when it messed with the cattle herd and a mama cow kicked him. I tried to have a cat as a pet but found out later I had an allergic reaction when I got close to one, so it was given away.

My sisters and I always had a pony while we were children. My pony was Snowball, a Pinto Shetland. I loved her but eventually I out grew her and she was sold. Mother always had horses around the farm so if we wanted to take a ride, there was always a ride available.

After I married and had our boys, it was decided to get a farm dog. That’s when we fell in love with Huskies. Now I wouldn’t exactly call a Husky dog a “farm dog” as it loved to play with the livestock and farm cats, a little too much, but eventually they were taught not to do that. Sasha was our first Husky. During the winter months, she loved to go out and root around in the snow.The cold didn’t bother her a bit. The boys enjoyed hooking her up to a sled. One at a time they would climb on the sled and off they would go on a sled ride in the snow.

The last Husky we had on the farm, gave us a memorable moment we never could forget. As usual, this Husky loved to explore and play with area wildlife. One morning after getting the boys up to prepare for school, I walked over to pull back the curtains on our patio door and heard this pitiful noise on the patio. There sat the Husky with this forlorn look on his face, as if he was saying “help me, please do something.” I let out a shout and the boys came running to see. Sticking out of both sides of his nose were needle like objects. The needles were all down both legs and on the front of his back. The boys opened the door before I could stop them, and the Husky quickly came inside. I grabbed a scarf and putting it around the dog’s neck the boys were instructed to slowly take him to the back porch and shut him in there. The veterinarian in Esbon was called. I explained the situation to him, adding I was sure our dog had met with a porcupine. The vet told me that it couldn’t have happened as there were no porcupines in this area, but I stuck to my guns and assured him it was porcupine quills. We loaded the dog in the pick-up and took him to the vet. After seeing the dog, the vet quickly agreed that those certainly were porcupine quills. The dog was thankfully sedated and one by one the quills were pulled out. Afterwards a call was made to report it to the local game warden, and an hour later the now quiet Husky was transported back home to recover. Somehow after this incident, the Husky wasn’t quite as adventuresome with the other wildlife.

The last farm dog my husband and I had was a Red Heeler we named Cassie. She was such a good farm dog. She loved going on walks with me and enjoyed doing chores with my farmer husband. She was a good watch dog, but she would not stop chasing after passing traffic on the nearby road. She was struck two times which we thought would teach her a lesson, but it must have been the urge to chase after moving things that kept her trying. The third hit did her in. We sure miss her, our Cassie.