Little doggie, meet this big doggie we also call a horse

By Jan Edwards/ The Bulletin

“Look, Mutt, BIG doggies,” I teased our sleeping Yorkie travelling companion. George Mutt always accompanied my husband, Roy, and me when we went on our forays into the country. As soon as the car engine would start, George found a comfortable place in my lap and fell asleep – he traveled well.

But he grew quite animated when he smelled cows and/or horses in pastures we passed - or he just woke up and saw them. He would dash to the window closest to the pasture and start barking and wagging his tail. If he could have gotten out of the car, he would have been in the pasture communing with his four-legged buddies. So sometimes, when Mutt was in a deep sleep, I’d bring the “big doggies” to his attention.

This trip, we were bound for Caddo Lake for our canoe club annual Easter paddle. A group of us would rent some cabins and camp on the lake outside Uncertain, Texas. We’d paddle and fish during the day and share supper and tell stories around the camp fire at night.

The man who we rented the cabins from lived in his home up the hill from the campsite. Sometimes he would drop by to check to see if we needed anything or to partake of our impromptu fish fries. He also had pastures of his own where he ran cattle. On this trip, he had been working cattle all day, and brought his horse trailer – horses included - into the campsite while he grabbed a bite to eat at home before stabling his horses.

Roy and I were sitting around the campfire with George Mutt and a few others who had just eaten their fill of fried Bream. Mutt was immediately interested in the horse trailer. “Look, Mutt,” I said, “Big Doggies!” Mutt had been dozing in Roy’s lap, and when I confirmed his suspicions, he started barking and wriggling, trying to escape Roy’s grasp.

So, Roy asked our host if it would be O.K. to introduce George Mutt to his horses. To which he laughingly replied, “Yeah, that’s fine. Just don’t let him eat the horses.”

Roy got a good hold on George Mutt and walked over to the horse trailer to make the introductions. The closest horse in the trailer, turned his head to look at the approaching company. Roy held George up to be face to face with his “big doggy” friend. Each animal quietly observed each other, each sniffing the scent of the other. Then, without warning, the horse snorted.

Before Roy could do anything, Mutt responded by a quick bark, and, darting his head through the cattle trailer bars, a bite on the nose of the offending horse. Mutt drew four little pin pricks of blood. No “big doggy” was going to threaten his daddy.

Roy withdrew Mutt from his adversary as quickly as possible. As he hastened to leave the scene of the crime, and to the delight of the camping observers, he scolded, “Mutt, you weren’t supposed to eat the horse!”

(Jan wants to hear from you. Write her in care of The Bulletin. Email: john.bulletin@gmail.com. Snail mail: The Bulletin, PO Box 2426, Angleton TX, 77516.)