Iowa Kids 1910, v3
No-Sitch the Hound

by Phil Stong
Illustrations by Kurt Wiese

 

Chapter 1
The Arrival of This Dog

This dog had a long face with big eyes. He was white with brown spots. His ears started straight up and then fell over. It was the bulldog or perhaps shepherd part of the pup that started the ears up and then the spaniel or St. Bernard that made them fall over. One thing that he did have was a good tail, though not much of it. He began wagging it when he was about six days old and hardly ever stopped after that. He wasn't what you'd call a woolly dog but on the other hand, he wasn't unwoolly.

Although he never noticed it and it never made him feel badly, he was different from regular dogs in many ways. For instance, there was the matter of his voice -- it was more like a moo than a bark. When this dog wanted to speak about something he went "Wooo-mooo-wooo." It made people who did not know him very sad, but he was not sad. Everyone thought he was because of his face and his voice but he always had a good time.

This hound was a five-gaited dog -- he could gallop, lope, singlefoot, pace or canter -- but he was the only dog or horse that always tried to do them all at once. He was a puppy when Bert first knew him but not a little one. He was always big. He stood about two-feet-six in his bare feet then, and he was about three cats long. Afterward he grew.

The pup came into Iowa -- Pittsville -- with horse traders, men who went down into the plains of Oklahoma and Texas and bought herds of horses which they sold up through Missouri and Iowa and Illinois where there weren't so many horses. Bert's father was the carpenter in Pittsville and he needed a horse to pull the wagon in which he took his work to customers.

The pup and his relatives were wandering around the horse traders' tents while Bert's father was buying the horse. The young dog was always very polite and he came up to smell at Mr. Hendrickson so that he would remember him the next time and not bark at him.

"What is that?" asked Mr. Hendrickson, Bert's father.

"Most people think it is a dog," said the horse trader.

"It looks a little bit like it," Mr. Hendrickson said. "Does it have a pedigree?" He meant a list of the kinds of dogs that been the dog's grandfathers and great-grandfathers, and so on.

"If it had, it would be longer than the telephone book," the horse trader said, quietly, "but anyway, if you want him, I'll throw him in on the horse."

Bert was nine years old and really needed a dog, Mr. Hendrickson thought. Anyone who learns to make friends with a dog will probably know how to get along with people, which is rather important.

"Bring the horse around to the shop," Mr. Hendrickson said. "I'll take the dog with me now."

The pup liked Mr. Hendrickson. He smelled of pine shavings, which are very comfortable for dogs on cold night.

He said, "Woo-moo-woo," when he understood that he was to go with Mr. Hendrickson.

Mr. Hendrickson didn't know that he was pleased, because of the sad tone of his voice. "Poor puppy!" he said. "A pound of hamburger will make you feel better, and wait till you see Bert."

 

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