BOOTS
From left to right: Dick, Boots, and Jeanette La Brosse Photo taken about 1952 |
Boots was the perfect dog. None since her ever came close.
We would go out in the morning to the barn, let down the gate at the barn
yard,
walk across the road and let that gate down and tell Boots, "get the
cows” She would go out in the field and gather the entire herd into a bunch
and bring them back to the barn and never make the cows even walk fast.
What was funny was when there was fog. Boots never lost a cow.
Every time every cow was in the herd and they would all come walking
out of the fog with Boots a short distance behind. Since the herd
had to
cross the road, somebody always had to be on both sides so the cows
would not go up or down the road. One day, one of us was sick and
there
was no one to watch one side. Boots got the herd started across
the road and then ran to the side where there was nobody and sat down in
the
middle of the road. I will never be able to figure that out.
The neighbors on both sides of us would see the dog out in the field gathering
the
cows every morning and would just shake their heads as they were herding
their own cattle by walking all the way out with their dogs at their
sides. After the cows were in the barn, Boots would lay in the
open door and wait until milking was done and it was time to put the herd
back
into the fields.
Lying in the doorway waiting for milking to get done. That brings
up another part of the life of Boots. She was doing just that when
a summer
thunderstorm came up. My mother was sitting about ten feet from
the dog in the middle of the walk waiting for the milker to get done on
the
cow it was on. A bolt of lightening came down and hit Boots,
picked her up and threw her out into the barnyard about 30 feet away.
The ball of
fire rolled into the barn and down the walk and went into the steel
stanchion. The entire row of cows went to their knees. None
were killed, but
try and milk them after that. Boots ran and hid somewhere and
did not come out until the next morning. Nothing seemed to be wrong
with her
and the normal daily routine started once again. Only now we
had a weather-warning dog. The sky would be clear and Boots would
start
shaking. She would shake so hard and whine until we let her into
the house. Then she would stop. So, we got an old rug and kept
it next to the
door and when a storm came, Boots would lay there until it was gone.
She could hear thunder an hour before any of us and we always knew
when a storm was coming.
Boots knew where our property lines were, how, we don't know.
Sometimes the neighbor’s cows and pigs would get out of their fields and
get
into ours. Boots would round them all up and chase them back
through the hole in the fence they came through.
Pigs, Boots hated pigs. One funny story came of this. Our
pigs were in an old out building with one wall torn out and replaced with
a snow
fence. Well, the pigs got through it one morning and four or
five of them got loose in the barnyard. Boots was right on there
little short curly
tails. Of course, the pigs had no intentions of going back through
that hole in the fence and the chase commenced. Around and around
the
barnyard they went. My sister, who was about three or four years
old, was sitting on a hill in the barnyard next to the milk house.
She was
playing with her favorite toy, a small baby buggy she used to push
her dolls around in. Anyway, here came one pig with Boots right on
it’s tail
and the pig hit the buggy and tipped it over and got tangled up in
the canvas. The pig went through the bottom of the little buggy and
got hung
up. The pig went around the yard with the buggy around its body
and my sister standing there crying at the top of her lungs. It wasn’t
funny to
here, but Dad, Mom and me sure thought it was. Boots got all
the pigs back in their shed and the buggy was repaired.
Then there was the time when my sister was about three or four years
old. The road our farm was on was gravel. The town grader would
go
by, first on one side then the other, spreading the gravel and leveling
it. After the first pass, the grader would leave this huge soft pile
of fresh
gravel in the center of the road. Well, my sister saw this and
decided that would be a good place to play. So, she and boots headed
off to the
road. You all know how little kids are, they can get away from
you so fast. She sat down right on top of that pile of soft gravel
in the middle of
the road. Back in those days, there was no traffic on our little
road back in the farming country. When we heard a car coming down
the gravel
road, we would all run to the window to see who it was. Well,
this day, at just the right time, a couple of cars decided to use this
road. Boots
saw them coming and went a little ways towards them and sat down on
the road and would not let them pass. Mom heard the cars stop and
she
went to the window to see why. From that day on my sister never
again played on the road. Boots earned her keep in many ways and
I guess
this was the best one.
Boots was with us for fifteen years. Towards the end, we all knew
we had to have another dog soon. But, Boots had other ideas.
We got a pup
from somebody and there was no problem at all. Then later in
the day, the pup was gone and so was Boots. She had taken him
out onto the
road and was just sitting there. I figured it out after a while.
She was waiting for a car to come along and get rid of this stranger.
Boots never
went on the road in her entire life unless it was while she was herding
cattle. Now, she was there with this pup every time we looked in
the
other direction. The pup never did get hit by a car.
One morning we went to the barn and put down the gates and Boots was
not there. We all knew something was wrong. When the cows were
in
the barn, we went back to the house and there she was, laying on the
lawn headed for the field. Old age had finally taken its toll.
Many dogs came and went over the years, but not one of them could even come close to what Boots was to us, a working member of our family.