The Winchester Sun: Winchester, KY

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DOWN THE LANE
Who is leading the pack?
By Sue Staton
March 11, 2010

If all dogs go to heaven, then I know who is leading the pack. The name of the dog is Tramp.

Numerous times in my adult life, I have thought about “Ole Tramp.” He was our family dog, but my middle brother claimed him. Tramp was born to one of the neighbor’s dogs and chosen from a litter. He was a mixed breed of part bird dog and part collie. My brother spied him and decided he wanted him enough to beg mom and dad for him. They said yes, and that good decision changed our life.

My father helped name Tramp. He said he needed a home and Tramp seemed to fit. My Daddy had a way of naming dogs just right. He named one of our dogs “Knothead” and that was a perfect fit, too. That dog never had a lick of sense.

Tramp was not a housedog, and had to root for himself. He hunted for his food or had table scraps from our meals. He usually slept in the barn during the bitter cold or at our back door on warmer nights. Tramp accompanied us to the creek when we went swimming, to the woods on hot summer days to pick blackberries, to the country store, or to church.

Tramp was loved by all of us and I believe he felt his main function in our family was to protect us. He would walk with us to the school bus stop in the morning and would be waiting for us when we got off the bus in the afternoon. This may not seem so unusual but the trip to the bus stop was 1.2 miles. Tramp liked the long walk but as we passed the other house down the lane, they had two dogs laying in wait for him. He had to fight them morning and night but he always came out the victor. The neighbor’s dogs were named Jesse James and Billy the Kid. Tramp would take care of business and then walk us to the bus stop.

During the summer months, if a snake ever crossed my path, all I had to say was, “Get him boy,” or “Sic it,” and the fight was on. Up until that time, he would circle and bark at the snake and the snake would circle and hiss too. Once the order was given, the snake never had a chance and he never stopped the snapping and shaking of the snake until it was lying motionless.

Snakes were common in the summers near our house because of the woods and nearby creek. After one snake fight, I felt very badly because Tramp got very sick. He must have gotten bitten. It took him three or four days to feel like doing anything. I knew that if he died, I would have been responsible.

One summer my family went to Gulf Shores, Ala., to visit my aunt and uncle who lived there. We were away for a week and Tramp decided he had better go try to find where we were and bring us home. On our way home at around 11 p.m., our car lights came upon a dog at a crossroads where the road turned into a Y. Tramp was trying to decide which direction to take. I am not sure who was happier to see the other, us or the dog. It was a happy reunion when we arrived home. By the way, Tramp beat us back home. The car was too packed to try to put him in the car, and I doubt he would have been allowed in anyway.

It was heartbreaking to see “Ole Tramp” grow old. He became arthritic and slow moving. He stayed loyal till the end, letting us know if an unwanted visitor came near. We always felt a sense of security as long as “Ole Tramp” was nearby.

One week we could tell a big difference in Tramp, and he seemed to be sad. The last I ever saw of him, he was walking slowly down the field. He didn’t come home that night or the next or the next. The boys went to look for him but they never found him. I think he drug himself off to die alone so we wouldn’t have to witness his death. I think he loved us that much.

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