Bob's stories of pets and other animals

When I was a young boy my grandfather had a chicken ranch in Petaluma, California. And on that farm he, my grandfather, had a draft horse named Woodrow. The name should tell you how long ago that was and how old Woodrow was at that time. Woodrow was a large, white gelding. Of course he was a fine draft horse because my grandfather knew a lot about draft horses. He had owned and operated a drayage business in San Francisco before the 1906 earthquake. Woodrow was used to pull a wagon from chicken house to chicken house while the hired hands fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, and cleaned the watering troughs, and so on.

When I was ten years old my father purchased the farm from my grandfather and we moved in. By that time Woodrow had been retired to pasture. He had been replaced by a 1925 Buick touring car, converted to a pickup.

Woodrow was a gentle giant. He readily allowed my brother and me to ride on him. Bareback, of course, because there was no saddle that would fit him.

One episode stands out in my memory. Woodrow and I were plowing the “south forty”. I don’t remember why we were plowing; it was probably just for fun. Anyway, there we were, Woodrow hitched to the plow and I walking behind. Suddenly the point of the plow caught in the root of a cottonwood tree. Woodrow pulled with all of his might, his belly only inches from the ground. SNAP!!! Both chain traces broke and Woodrow went tumbling head over heels. Neither of us was injured, but we didn’t plow any more.

It was a sad day when one icy morning as my father and I were on our way to milk the cows we found Woodrow lying dead by the cow barn. While it might have been sentimental to bury the old horse, on the farm pragmatism reigns and his remains were hauled off to the tallow works.

And so you have read another story about animals in my life.

I introduced Alexander as an eight-week old Boston puppy in my earlier posting: “Memories of Riley and Luci”. Living in Thousand Palms without Riley and Luci we focused more attention on Alex. Without Riley to play with Alex had become even more hyperactive. So we hired a trainer to school Alex, my wife, and me. The trainer was much more successful with Alex than with my wife and me. Alex received a diploma. If I had been grading, Evelyn and I would have received failing grades.

For some reason it seemed that we needed to get a playmate for Alex. Being fond of Bostons we scoured the web and came across Boston Brigade Rescue. They had a Boston mix who, at the time, was undergoing intensive veterinary care. We filled out the adoption questionnaire and agreed to wait. After several weeks the folks from Boston Brigade Rescue showed up with Chico. While they conducted a facilities check to assure that it was a safe and secure place, Chico managed to crawl under the back gate and take off across the golf course. It took about twenty minutes to retrieve Chico. I immediately blocked the hole under the gate.

Although Chico was fairly thin with his ribs showing he was, and still is, a remarkably handsome dog. He and Alex hit it off well from the start. They are very well matched, both weighing about twenty-five pounds. They played and romped with no sign of aggression, not even over the food dish.

Although Alex had been something of an escape artist, together Alex and Chico were amazing. With the front door open only slightly, they would both dash between ones legs and take off across the golf course. In one such instance it took almost three hours, until about 1:00 AM, to retrieve them. We have become much more careful so they rarely escape these days.

Alex and Chico have distinctly different personalities. Alex is somewhat aloof, only occasionally seeking attention. Chico, on the other hand, is very needy. He constantly seeks attention and frequently jumps into my lap. Alex is a glutton. He will eat anything and everything. Chico is a very picky eater, frequently eating grass and then upchucking. Contrary to what I would have expected, Alex submits to PediPaws (sanding down his toenails) while Chico will have none of it. Alex loves to play in the water. Chico does not.

So here we have another chapter in the lives of the Beatie pets. When next we visit I shall introduce Lil Maya.

Bob Beatie