Duke
Lavon and Duke
I was a teenager living on our family dairy farm, 15 miles outside of Albert Lea, Minnesota. We always had a least one dog as part of the family and, at this time, it was a German Shepard/Border Collie mix named Duke - a loving, intelligent, hard-working companion. One winter day my grandfather, my father, Duke and I completed the morning chores in the barn and began to walk back to our house, about 300 yards away at the top of a small hill. The weather had deteriorated to freezing blizzard conditions, and we were able to reach only a nearby granary. Even that short walk was exhausting. The wind had swept away my mittens and hat. For the first time in my life, I sensed fear and uncertainty in my father and grandfather, and this unnerving feeling grew as we huddled against the walls. After a short rest, my grandfather gave me his gloves, wrapped his scarf around my head and decided to set out again. The wind was howling, the snow was knee-deep. I wrapped my arm around Duke's neck as he slowly pushed through the snow at our sides. Disoriented in the whiteout, we began to walk AWAY from the house into the open fields. Suddenly, Duke switched direction and started plowing through the snow. My father grabbed Duke's tail and yelled at my grandfather and me to join hands and hold on. We followed Duke to the warmth and safety of our house. Unbeknownst to us, my mother had been standing at our front door, frantically calling Duke's name. He was the only one who could hear her voice over the roaring wind. When Duke died of cancer only a few months later, I remembered him tenaciously struggling through the snow with three trusting humans in tow. I still remember the helplessness of being lost in the fury of that winter storm, the bravery and loyalty of that wonderful dog, and the sense of relief when I saw the light of our house and my mother's face. Very simply, Duke saved all of our lives that day.