Circa, 1977, Danny had a beautiful hunting dog, an English setter, he named Joe. Joe wasn’t only a good hunting dog, he was a great family dog and one of the best I’ve ever seen except for his future superiors, Hank, Tex and Scarlett*.
One night, Danny and I were watching TV in the living room / dining room combination. Suddenly, we heard someone trying to come in the patio door. It was a half French door with a sheer curtain so we couldn’t tell who it was, but the eerie shadow clearly outlined with the full moon behind it made no mistake that someone very tall was standing at the door trying to get in our house. We couldn’t understand why Joe wasn’t going crazy barking in the backyard with a stranger on the porch.
Danny jumped up and ran over to the door. He yelled, “Who is it?”
I was going to the bedroom to get Danny’s pistol, but Danny was already “emotionally engaged and loaded for bear.” I had only made it halfway across the room when I saw Danny’s hand reaching for the door knob. I braced myself for whoever – or with my wild imagination – whatever was on the other side of the back door.
As soon as Danny opened the door, Joe fell forward with his paws falling on Danny’s shoulders.
I don’t remember if Danny screamed, but I can’t believe he didn’t! And I wouldn’t have blamed him. I know it scared both of us to death!
As happy as Joe was to see Danny who he adored, Danny was just as happy it was Joe at the door and not a burglar!
*. Tex and Scarlett were the best dogs Brandon has ever had. Hank was THE best dog Stacy has ever had.
To me, this tells you what a great dog he was. Stacy was only three or four years old when we had that dog, and she remembered his name!
