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Many years
ago my husband had an English pointer named Buck.? He came
to us as a sickly runt of the litter and we spent many hours
nursing him through a rough puppyhood.? My children were
very young at the time, and as Buck grew up, he came to
consider himself another one of the kids.
Our small
farm sits in the bottom of a hollow between two steep hills.
Mornings on the farm were hectic until the last child had
left for school.? Then it was time for me to go outside and
do a few chores before going to work.? Although Buck wasn't
much help, he always took great interest in everything I
did.? I've often said that Buck could all but talk with his
expressive eyes.? They followed my every move.
One of our
morning rituals was to feed the chickens.? We had built a
large fenced area for the chickens to roam free from
predators.? We also had a few rabbits and goats that stayed
inside this fence.? This area was one place that Buck was
not allowed.? Because of the
hunting
instincts characteristic of his breed, I didn't quite trust
him to run loose with animals that would naturally appear to
be prey in his way of thinking.
As I
poured water into bowls and scooped feed into the dishes,
Buck would watch me through the fence, tail wagging, waiting
for his "Mom" to come out and play again.? He would become
so intent in his focus on me that sometimes a whimper would
escape his lips.? The longer I took, the more pronounced the
whines became.
"Oooooohhhhhh,"
moaned Buck.? I softly shushed him as I kept on with the
task of scrubbing clean the bowls.? A few seconds later Buck
gave another sorrowful "Ooorrrhh, aaarrrhhh."
"Buck, be
quiet," I told him.? "I'll be out in a minute or two."
Buck hung
his head and gave me his most pitiful, abandoned look.? His
chocolate eyes blinked sadly as his tail thumped on the
ground.? He fidgeted and wiggled.? He leaned against the
fence and looked back at me over his shoulder, letting out a
shrill whistle through his nose.
"Shhh!" I
told him again. ? It's hard to ignore such pleading, though,
and I had to smile.? "I'm almost through, then I'll come out
with you."
By this
time Buck had reached his limit of restraint.? He couldn't
hold it in any longer.? Being separated even by a few feet
was more than he could tolerate.
"Ooohh,
rooomff, aaarrrhhh, hmmm..." he started in his most
persistent whine of all time.
In
exasperation, I straightened up and turn around to face
him.? I said loudly, "Oh, will you puh-lease stop making so
much noise over there?"
What
happened next will forever be remembered as one of the most
startling moments of my life.? As clear as day, Buck looked
right into my eyes and said, "Eh, what did you say?"
Well, for
a second anyway, I thought it was Buck who had uttered those
words.? In reality it was my neighbor across the road.? I've
had it explained to me in great detail, something about the
barometer readings and the acoustics of living in a small
valley.? On certain
days,
sounds travel and bounce around.? On those days my
neighbors' voices will carry and they sound as if they are
standing right beside me.? It's a bit alarming at times, but
never so much as it was that day.
Buck and I
stared at each other.? Then as quietly as I could, I picked
up my buckets and put them away and headed for the house.?
Buck trotted along behind, tail wagging happily.? I made a
mental note to myself.? The next time I decide to talk to
the animals, I won't be so surprised if one answers!?
?
by Pamela
Jenkins
bunnies-n-birds @ juno. com
_________________________
Pamela
Jenkins lives in Oklahoma with her husband of twenty-three
years and their four children.? She is the office manager of
a veterinary clinic and enjoys writing in her spare time.?
She is a contributing author to such books as Chicken Soup
for the Grandparent's Soul, Chicken Soup for the Fisherman's
Soul, Chocolate for a Woman's Dreams and is widely published
on the Internet. |
