Thanks to the kindness of a nonhuman person who, at one point, had a litter of puppies born and kept them until they were weaned and running and then decided they did not want them any longer, we have inherited five dogs. They are all friendly and very well fed, like to eat and will gobble anything offered. Dogs are here. Dogs are at our residence. My front gate has been violated and is still together only because ole' Dog will still kill to protect the yard.
Yes, dumped pups are a sorry sight and such a heart-wrenching thing to have happen to a family. We all would like to adopt them, maybe a little anyway. I like the pups. I know they are out of Walker hounds and are pretty little dogs but I do not want them and my close relative would never allow more dogs on the place.
Because we live in the outback of the state and are so alone when it comes to handling the problem, we are supposed to do it ourselves. The pounds in the closest place said they will not take them. We are supposed to kill the strays or have them as pets. And, we do not want to kill or keep!
I went to the feed store to ask questions about a person who would hire out to kill dogs. That was the purpose of my trip but, believe me, I could not bring myself to ask the question. I found that lump in my throat unbearable and so I stood around a while and went home. Who wants to be known as a man who hires dogs killed? Not this old man for sure!
I got the pups in the barn and fed them a big plate of food and filled a big water bowl, hay for their comfort, and left them there as I drove through cattle counting. My head was never clear of the dogs and I was just plain miserable when it got late enough for me to quit and end the day.
I called the newspaper and advertised the pups early the next morning. They had already made my barn smell bad and I knew something had to happen soon. The past was a hunter's paradise around here. The fox hunters and coon hunters were thick and they would have loved this pack of Walkers. I left more dog food and water and did my chores, headed to the leased place and checked the water there.
The plumbers had fixed the frozen problem so much better than I would have and added a hydrant to the inside. I was impressed and glad I had finally given in. Well, actually, I had to because I was spread too thin and it has paid off. I checked fence lines, sawed down some tree saplings in the roadway and took the morning to not think of pups.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, people who take your problem and are happy to do it are priceless! I have good friends who would just shake their heads at my new litter but not help, and then a man I did not know read the ad and wanted the pups. He wanted all the pups, all four of them. Bless his heart; he thought they were just dandy and pretty and wanted them for his own! He came with a dog box to haul them to his very own place away from our place. I was thrilled. I owe him!
Never give up! Keep smiling and pray no one else ever dumps on us or you! Buy more ammo, clean all your long arms and "Remember the Alamo!" God bless coon hunters!
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette-area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.