Big sow, old lady, and Sophie that lowed cats

1982 + lived at Mission Point, Davies Bay, in Sechelt, B.C. The property was alongside Chapman Creek, a good salmon river, especially for dog  ( Chum ) salmon, dog salmon and a few other species that was not as visual. The chum spawns near the ocean, often in the tide area, and there were lots of them. They die after spawning, and the birds, bears and even dogs, feed on them.

My second St. Bernard dog “Sophie”would drag the dead salmon on to the lawn, leave them for a few days in the sun, kind of seasoning them. Then she would roll herself in the rotten carcasses. She smelled awful, and was full of flies and other insects that followed her anywhere, and she thought this was great. Sophie was never allowed inside, and she never needed to be on a leash.

Sophie had another special interest. She loved cats, even dead ones, she would troll the highway, and when she found a dead cat, no matter how many tire tracks, or how many days since it was killed, Sophie would bring it back home, and leave it in the yard. More than one neighbour blamed her for killing their cats, until I shoved them the tire marks, and some still blamed Sophie, she was a very big dog.

Live cats, she would carefully grab them by the neck, carry them home, and lick them as if they were closest family, and most cats loved the attention. We had no cats of our own at this place, we did not need any, Sophie brought them home all the time, and they liked it.

I have no idea how she got this thing for cats, she had a few litters of pups, like a normal dog, raised them, and I gave them away, but cats was her big love. The thing about dogs and cats fighting, does not fit in this story.

We usually had some other animals in the yard, it was about a mile to the area where I had my horses, about a dozen, the highlanders cows, another dozen, and a dozen sheep on pasture all year.

In the yard at home I had a large fenced area for chickens, we always had fresh eggs, chicken for a barbecue and hens for a soup or a stew. A few other birds, like turkeys, ducks and geese was often part of the flock.

I never liked cutting grass, until I started a golf course, and became a greenkeeper many years later; so I would ride a horse home from the pasture, and leave it there for a while. One excuse was that the lawn needed some fertilizer. Sometimes a few sheep, and for food and freezer, a sow, or a few pigs inside the fence.

This big old pregnant sow did not care much for my fence, electric or not, she walked right through it, or dug under, she was digging a lot anyway, and sometimes she was on the outside wanting to get back in, to her shed and food. She never noticed the fence going out, and now she could not get back in.  Nothing stops a big old fat sow.

She was harmless and nice;  and more social than any dog, loved to be scratched on her neck and body, followed anybody with a bucket or a stick, but she still looked like the big ugly sow she was. She could make a mean furrow in anybody’s lawn; a bed of flowering tulips could be a potato furrows in minutes. Some neighbours took offence to that.

One day I got an important call at my office, a big sow was terrorising my neighbourhood, or so it seems. I jumped in my truck and drove home, parked the truck and ran down the alley. I was not always her fault always, that she was on the wrong side of the fence, trying to get back in.

Coming towards me, my big fat sow, and behind her, with a walking stick, a nice old lady, I recognized her from living down the street. She was used to pigs, and this one did not bother her at all, she enjoyed leading, or rather pushing the sow back home. The pig did not recognize me, or if she did, she pretended not to show it. The old lady walked behind her, tapping her walking stick on the sides, and behind, to lead her the right way home, I could only admire and enjoy them both.

I wish I had a picture to show you, nice old lady, probably in her eighties or nineties, dressed, in black, like I think of a nun habit, with a walking stick, leading or pushing this big sow. Pigs are smart, and even this old sow knew her way home, but one could see, she liked the attention the old lady gave her, they were a team for the road.

Do you want to see pictures of pigs ? =

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