Best Friends

I have always been fascinated by the animals that inhabit our farm and home.  They give me endless hours of entertainment as I watch them from the windows or the fences.  We have always had dogs and cats, sometimes in multiple numbers.  When my father moved to the farm he added a small terrier mix dog called Amy.  She was his constant companion and he loved her dearly.  At the same time I had a German Shepherd and a collie.  They formed a funny looking pack with the two big dogs and feisty little Amy. 

Boomer, the big German Shepherd, soon become very attached to the little Amy.  They could constantly be found in each other's company just laying around the yard, checking out the cats in the barn, or hanging out with my father.  Surprisingly they also became hunting buddies.  They would take to the fields in the early morning and happily track and chase rabbits, squirrels, mice, ground hogs, or anything else they could scare up.  By the time the farm was stirring good and morning chores were underway, they would return for breakfast with tongues hanging out and doggy grins on their faces. 

We suspected their antics but didn't really know what they were up to until the morning that they didn't come back.  No one was concerned until nearly lunch time when the two dogs were still missing.  Neither was likely to voluntarily skip the possibility of a few tasty scraps from the dinner table so everyone began to get a little concerned.  After lunch the kids took off to the fields to see if their friends could be found.  Soon the valleys echoed with the calls of children's voices.  Still no dogs.  By late afternoon I had joined in the search party and we were beginning to wander a little further out.  Still no dogs.  Finally, I called a halt to the search since it was time to return to the house for chores and supper.

Everyone was feeling pretty down and discouraged as they trudged through the feeding and bedding of the cattle.  Suddenly my son started calling for his dog again but with excitement in his voice.  We all rushed to the fence to see two muddy figures walking toward the barn.  The little Amy was covered in mud from her head to her tail.  I mean covered.  Every hair was encased in a ball of mud until she looked like a walking beaded curtain.  The bigger Boomer had his entire underbelly caked in mud.  We welcomed them back with thankful hearts, cleaned them up and fed them dinner, all the while trying to figure out what had happened. 

It took a while and lots of watching where they went to hunt before my son figured out what had to have occurred.  They had developed a hunting partnership to trap groundhogs.  Groundhogs, a large rodent , live in dens they dig into the ground.  Amy, with her vermin hunting terrier background, would enter the groundhog hole and flush the groundhog out the opposite end (they always have an escape tunnel).  Boomer would wait at the end of the escape tunnel and catch the groundhog as it came out.  Unfortunately on the day in question, the groundhog wasn't a very good builder and the hole collapsed, trapping Amy underground.   Boomer, sensing Amy's peril, began digging.  He spent all day digging and digging trying to rescue his friend.  It wasn't until late in the afternoon that he was finally successful.  Fortunately Amy was trapped with enough air, so she only suffered from thirst and mud.  With his friend finally safe the two started for home, rescuer and rescued together.