The Prairie Farm Dog

By Marjorie Girard

When I was a kid growing up on the farm in a little area in east Alberta we always had a dog a, Collie, the only respectable dog you would have on the farm these days. Our dogs were called either Rover, Lady, or Lassie. It was kind of like the royal family where there are only certain acceptable names like George or William or Harry for males and Mary, Ann or Elizabeth for girls.  So it was in those days for the pedigree names for the farm dog who was a much loved member of the family.

Often one of the kids would be seen sitting on the step with their arms around the dog's neck and the dogs head on their shoulder. At such intimate times, no words were needed but the love being expressed was pure and far beyond what mere words could convey. So faithful was the 4-legged companion that he followed closely on the heels of whoever happened to be on a mission that moment. It could be that the mission was to head to the barn to milk the cows or maybe just to the outhouse where he would wait patiently while one did their business and as they would emerge he would be on his feet ready and eager for the next adventure.

He never complained and was always satisfied with his pay which occasionally was an extra scrap of meat, a few words of praise or a couple of loving pats or strokes. His love was of the purest nature and his loyalty was unwavering to his human family. Every night he lay outside the back door like a sentry and was alert even when he slept to anything unusual which could be coyotes howling in the distance or someone driving into the yard. There was no need for burglar alarms in those peaceful idyllic days in the country. There were no burglars and had there been the dog would have alerted the whole household before the burger ever got near.

Oh yes as a companion he was of the highest is quality and as a loyal friend he was unsurpassed.