The milkman’s dog Dan was half and half, shepherd and collie, his
father being a full-blood shepherd, and his beautiful mother, whom he
did not remember, being Scotch collie. Shep, his father, lived all his
life--and he attained a ripe old age--on the place where he was born
and raised.
Dan loved the dairy farm. The fresh, foaming milk that remained in
the straining pails was always his, and the cats had all they could
drink of it. Also there were lots of rats and rabbits to chase. In
fact, it was an ideal place for a dog of his tastes to live. He knew
all the cows by name. It was necessary only to tell him to bring up
the cows--“all but Bess and Jane,” and he would do it. Starting the
herd ahead, he would get in front of those two young heifers, and,
separating them from the rest, chase them back to the woods pasture
again.
The trip into town to deliver the milk--how much fun he got out of
that! It was no hardship to be aroused from his comfortable, warm bed
in the straw, and to have the driver say, “Come on, old boy, we are
ready to start.”
Dan would stretch himself, yawn, and indicate by this that he, too, was
ready. He would sit beside the driver, and off they would go through
the early dawn and the frosty air.
Dan was always pleased when they delivered milk to houses where there
were little children, and at the hospitals where the patients were
waiting to have it for their breakfasts. At one house the driver would
leave a double portion, because there were twin boys there. Dan hoped
that some day he would get to see these little boys. Then one day
something happened that they were delayed. It was later than usual
when they were returning home, and, as they were passing by the house
where the twins lived, Dan had his wish, for there they were, sitting
on the lawn. Each had a bottle of milk, and they were drinking away as
contentedly as could be.
How happy Dan was to think he had helped in this way to furnish food
for those adorable twins!
They drove on down the street and passed the children’s hospital.
There, out in the sun, he caught a glimpse of wheeled chairs with
children in them. On stands beside many of them were glasses of milk,
perhaps from Dan’s dairy. (At least he felt a proprietary interest in
it.) Also at the school-lunch counters, he saw the children drinking
milk. Then he got to thinking, what if he did have to work rather hard
bringing up the cows and helping around the barn, wasn’t it worth
while? What would become of all these children if he didn’t work?
The other dogs hoped he would keep on at his present occupation, as
most of them liked milk themselves. Especially were Pixie and Petite
anxious that there should always be milk for making the good things of
which they were fond.
Few of them had ever seen the milkman’s dog before, as he made his
trips before it was their hour for rising. They were eager for him to
tell more about himself and his family, so he promised to tell the
story of his grandfather, Sandy, who had been a useful and faithful
member of dogdom.
In the days of horse-drawn vehicles, some dogs had a foolish habit of
running in front of every horse they saw coming, and barking at their
heels. Of course, none of the dogs in this group knew anything about
this bad habit. It was before their day. Now, Sandy despised this
ill-mannered action, and would stop it every time he had a chance. The
young dogs on the place where he lived wouldn’t have dared to do it. He
had them trained. But some other dogs were not so well raised. Sitting
at the corner where two roads crossed, he would watch, and, whenever a
dog would start barking at a horse, he would go after the dog and give
him what he deserved.