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From the Farm

Once a country dog, never a city dog

May 22, 2009
By Kerry Hoffman

I'm sure you have heard the age-old quote, "You can take the girl out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the girl."

While driving to work the other day, and thinking about our dogs, I thought of that saying and how it pertains to dogs.

"You can take the dog from the city, but you'll never get him to go back, especially if they have lived quite a while on a farm."

Article Photos

Kerry Hoffman

I came to that conclusion all on my own, by watching and wondering about our dogs.

Most of my thoughts were in regards to those two mischievous, over-curious, fun-loving rat terriers named Digger and Eddie. Yes, once in a while the mammoth we call Lilly enters the picture too.

The three musketeers would never survive city life.

They have no class.

They have no manners and they definitely don't have any social morals.

They would be run out of town faster than the bad guys in any John Wayne western.

This morning, I looked out the window on the stairway landing. I didn't have my glasses on, so I had to study the events a bit. When I finally gave up on the fuzzy masses I asked for help.

"What's that big, white- fuzzy thing lying out by the dirt pile?" I inquired.

"Well, the puppies had a big, half-rotten raccoon they were dragging across the yard," Joey said.

"No, I don't think it's a raccoon. It looks like Mr. White," I answered. Mr. White is the gnarly revolting long-haired white cat that lives in the barn. He's gross.

That's about the only thing I can say about him, and that's a nice description.

Joey leaned over my shoulder and looked out.

"I think your right," he added. "I think it is Mr. White."

I challenged Russell to a shoe-putting-on race, to see who could get outside first to identify the thing "napping" thing in the yard.

"Oh, to heck with it. Who needs shoes to go look at a dead cat?" I laughed as I slammed the door behind me.

I won the race and it was Mr. White. Poor thing looked like he had been dragged up and over the huge pile of black dirt waiting to be used for landscaping.

Honestly, it doesn't bother me that Mr. White looked like Mr. Black from his butt forward. I laughed when I realized the dogs must have dragged him over the dirt pile by the tail.

That's just the beginning of the Three Musketeers' antics.

Digger and Eddie also find it great fun to eat fluffy, yellow baby chicks that escape from the chicken coop; torment Tripod, the three-legged cat; run through the yard with torn rags from the shop; parade around with a baby robin flopping from the side of their mouths: piddle all over my porch because they are just so darn happy to see me when I get home and they want to surprise me with a most-special gift - besides the piddle.

Oh, these gifts certainly are special. I shant ever forget!

One morning, I found a cow leg, hoof and all, on my front porch. I am quite sure the lead Musketeer (Lilly) had something to do with this stunt too. The leg was too large for rat terriers to carry around and it was half decomposed. (Now that is really gross!) Turns out, the dogs like to go back to the compost pile we use for deceased animals and dig until they find a "tasty" morsel. I have made Joey haul that gnarly leg back to the pile several times. Being that I haven't told him to bury it, I am quite sure it just ends up on the top of the pile.

Is it any wonder it keeps showing up in my front lawn?

The other day I came home from work, but decided to drive past my asparagus patch before coming in the house. As I turned the corner into the driveway, there it was, the aforementioned decomposing raccoon.


I suppose I could have Joey put it on the compost pile.

Nope, take that back. It will just end up back on my porch.

And Mr. White will be lying right along side of it and nearby will be that dastardly cow leg.

For questions, or comments, e-mail me at



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