Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Saturday, July 7, 2012

Our Mike

A reworked post for a very busy day.
Enjoy!


We had a dog. 
Mike. 
Big dog. 
Saint Bernard. 
Very protective. 
He thought nothing of risking his very life defending us from such dangerous things as – the cat. Tumbleweeds. 
The occasional cardboard box, blowing in the wind. 
Laundry. 
In the history of the world, no one was safer. 
My parents could relax, knowing that Mike was on duty.
We decided to take our fearless guard dog swimming. 
We didn’t realize that Mike was a mountain dog. Swimming hadn’t been programmed into his non-rewritable brain. 
He knew only two things. 
Snow. 
And saving people. 
Swimming couldn’t possibly fit in there anywhere. 
But he good-naturedly followed us because he was . . . good natured. 
At first everything went well. 
We swam. 
Mike ran up and down the bank, barking frantically. 
If anyone ventured near enough to grab, he did so. 
By whatever protruded enough for him to get a grip on. 
But to his horror, the ‘saved’ person would inevitably extricate themselves and, without even a thank you, nullify all his best efforts by charging back into the milky waters.
Finally, Mike’s lack of success in the saving department became too much for him. His frustration boiled over into something more proactive. 
He started venturing further and further into the uber-dangerous, monster filled water, seeking someone – anyone - to save. 
A limb passed near. 
Or someone’s backside. 
He grabbed it, and whoever it was attached to, and dragged them to the shore. Kicking and screaming. 
How happy they must be that he was on hand to save them! 
Listen to the sound of their relief! 
He would bark happily and charge in for the next heroic act.
He never managed to drown anyone. 
Wisdom. 
Or a miracle. 
After that, when we went swimming, our hero guarded the garage. 
From the inside.

11 comments:

  1. And I'm sure he did a wonderful job of garage guarding too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The very best! No one ever stole the garage, anyway . . .

      Delete
  2. Laughing here. Would love to meet a dog like Mike some day.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Yes, I well remember Mike. Protector of kids. Ultimate saboteur to anyone mowing the lawn, with huge bones, gnawed rotting chunks of afterbirth, not to mention the do-do. I was seven that first summer and that was the year I got introduced to the lawn mower. I learned to wear heavy shoes.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The bigger the dog, the bigger the presents he leave behind! :)

      Delete
  4. Mike seems like quite the dog :) Every child would want one of him :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. He was so affectionate. And enthusiastic!

      Delete
  5. And here I am, again, in front of one of your lovely stories, laughing. Thank you for that gift! I love the thought of Mike, intrepid rescue dog and misunderstander of water fun. I'll bet he was an excellent dog. We have a 74# flat-coated retriever named Cricket. A sweet soul whose sole desire is to be with us and please us. She also protects us from laundry drying on the line, leaves blowing in the wind, the dark, and the occasional rabbit in our backyard. In affectionate response, we call her "Cricket, Chicken-Dog." And thank God daily for her love, the kind of love that barks and backs up! Thanks for sharing this Diane. I loved it. Smiles -

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I love Cricket, Chicken-Dog! The perfect family protector and friend!

      Delete
  6. I wanted to get my husband a puppy this year for Christmas, but with everything that happened I didn't make it to the shelter. One day soon hopefully. I miss our Jack, but its been long enough.

    ReplyDelete

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