Farm Pets - Dave's Midwestern Ohio Memories

Series of Guest Blogs by an out-of-state Fish Report reader originally from this area about fond memories of growing up in Midwestern Ohio during the 50’s & 60’s

Farm Pets

Dad, Mom & sister Sara with dog Ginger and an unnamed cat ~1985

Growing up on the farm during the 1950s meant we had many farm pets always running around the farm, including dogs, cats and the occasional adopted cow, pig and chicken. Most memorable were the dogs who had a tendency to routinely sneak into family photos. My earliest pet memory actually was our grandmother’s dog, Skippy. She lived on the farm across the road from us, along with my Uncle Bob who farmed the home place and was a bachelor at the time. He had many coon dogs over the years as well, but Skippy was a favorite, a rat terrier with short hair so it didn’t shed all over Grandma’s house. 

Grandma also had a nutcracker in the form of a dog as pictured here that we nicknamed Skippy as well. It was fun playing with the old pot-metal device, especially squeezing my sisters’ fingers in the jaws!

Eventually, my siblings and I were able to convince Mom and Dad we needed a pet of our own, so Brownie joined the family, pictured above in 1959 with my baby brother Luke. But Mom said no dogs in the house, so Brownie and every other dog over the years, stayed outside on the front porch or in the barn. Not once do I ever recall any of our pets coming into the house.

 Little Willow

Speaking of the barn, Dad always kept a bunch of farm cats around to keep the rats and mice under control. But we never bothered to name the cats as they would come and go. To this day, I am not a cat person, however, our son just adopted a kitten he named Willow that we enjoy when he visits.

Spot before his Demise

Our dogs were always males, avoiding any unexpected liter of puppies on the farm. They didn’t seem to last long, as they either ran off, were injured or died in some manner. One named Spot pictured above was run over by a car along SR705 west of Loramie as he was running ahead of me while riding my bike. The driver was a high school kid who stopped to move the dog’s limp body into the side ditch just as I arrived on the scene. Needless to say, I was devastated and held a grudge against him. However, a few years later he unfortunately died from some debilitating disease, so I learned to control my grudges!

Brownie came next as pictured above in this 1960 photo with me and my siblings. Brownie was another short haired rat terrier as Dad insisted so their coat wouldn’t get covered with burrs and matted down. Brownie was a good dog that one day just disappeared. Probable found a female mutt he’d rather hang around with than us kids.

It was about then that we actually had a collie named Lassie after the 1950’s TV show by the same name. The dog took a nip at my sister Ann, so back to the kennel it went after just two days. That dog was smart and could catch and fetch a ball.

Then came Cookie, named after the large round brown spot on her hindquarters that resembled a cookie. He lead a tough life, having first lost a hind leg after running into the mower while Dad was cutting hay, then getting hit in the head with a baseball bat, after which we had to put her down; another sad pet day on the farm.

We also had a dog we named Skippy in memory of our grandmother’s dog after it died. Skippy didn’t last long either, eventually running away to presumably greener pastures. Then after I left home, Mom & Dad had several dogs named Snoopy and Babe pictured above.

Ginger, Reg & Dave 1981

Ginger was another dog with an especially interesting history. One evening in 1978, my wife and I were driving home after catching a movie when we saw this lost little puppy running across the street right in front of our car. I braked and we got out of the car as the puppy came running up to us. We walked up and down the street looking for its owners, so took it home and did the same thing the next couple days, even posting a sign on a telephone pole about the lost puppy, while also checking with the local animal shelter, all to no avail. My wife was pregnant at the time, so we concluded it was a good omen and kept her. We had a fenced enclosed yard so it was perfect for her to roam around. And once our son was born, he and Ginger became best buds.

Dad, Uncle Bob and nieces with Ginger

But by 1984 we were transferred by Ford and moved to a home without a fenced yard, so we left Ginger with Mom and Dad on the farm. It was a sad day for our son, but at least he got to play with Ginger while visiting his grandparents, as did all the nieces and nephews.

Alas, Ginger also suffered a dreadful end, as she swallowed some antifreeze that Dad had drained from a tractor. Apparently the glycol in antifreeze taste sweet to dogs, but is very poisonous. Dad didn’t tell us what happened until years later, as he felt so bad and didn’t want to sadden our son.

In 1989, we moved again to a place with a larger yard so Toby, a Basenji a bark-less dog breed entered our lives. Our 10 year old son really loved that puppy and so did we. It lived until age 14 and was irreplaceable, as we now have no pets and have no plans for any, unless perhaps we find another puppy roaming the streets again! In the meantime, our son’s kitten will suffice when he visits.

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