A DOG NAMED SNOOKS
The first dog in my life was a shepherd mix named Snooks. Snooks helped Daddy herd the cows, leading them to pasture and back to the barn. She slept in the barn with the other animals.
When I was two years old, my dad went to Minneapolis for surgery. My mom thought she could handle the cows by herself. But the first time Mom went out in the pasture with Snooks to bring the cows back to the barn for milking, the dog herded the cows in the wrong direction. Then Mom made a huge mistake—she shouted at Snooks and called her a stupid dog. Snooks trotted back to the barn. Mom followed. She found Snooks nestled into her usual bed of straw. Mom pleaded and apologized. But Snooks refused to budge. Snooks had been working with daddy on the farm for years before he married my mom. When it came to farming, I think Snooks felt Mom was still an amateur.
Until Daddy returned home, Mom had to fetch a neighbor on the next farm to help drive in the cows and get them milked.