Brownie

Brownie was a nice pet. A Chow, he was a nice gentle dog. His only fault? He loved to bark. I don't care if it was only a bug, or a horse and buggy going past the house he would bark, and bark, and bark! Back then our yard was fenced in. At that time my grandmother lived with us. One of her sons, my uncle Wade, lived in Chicago. He wasn't much of a dog lover and would always wait till one of us would come to the gate, shoo Brownie back, and let him in. Two or three times a year, he would ride a train down from Chicago, and walk from the depot, about half a mile away,to our house. As a general rule he almost always arrived mid afternoon. One trip he arrived about nine o'clock in the evening. Brownie started barking, but we didn't pay much attention because Brownie always barked. Uncle Wade yelled for someone to come get the dog back, open the gate and let him in. It took us several minutes to realize something was going on. Dad got up , went to the door, opened it and turned the porch light on. He stepped out on the porch, took one look and started to laugh. Uncle Wade was standing there with Brownie only about six inches from his toes. Uncle Wade got a funny look on his face. There was no gate there. We'd had the fence removed about a week before he arrived! There were a few choice words said by uncle Wade but he soon got over it and was laughing as hard as we were.