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Growing up on a small north west Florida farm, I had the good fortune to share my time with a German shepherd Dog. She was wonderful to have around although it didn’t start out that way.

Waking to the sound of yelps and scratches at my bed room door, my first thought was what was I thinking!!! I located the leash which was no easy task in it self at two in the morning and sleepy eyed in the dark, tried unsuccessfully to hook the squirming dog on the leash. Finally after many minuets passed I gave up and turned on the lights, took a deep breath, snapped the leash on the dog as calmly as possible and gently as possible resisting the urge to snatch the little nine week old pup up and throw her and the leash out the door and go back to bed, I lead the pup out the door and stepped in dog crap left from the evening before. Now all my tennis shoes are lined up on the porch awaiting my undivided attention at first light. Trying not to teach my young four legged charge naughty language I silently cussed as the aroma of last nights success in teaching the dog to use the out of doors came floating up from the smeared pile I tried to shake from the bottom of my shoe.

Again what was I thinking crossed my mind like a migraine? Then I remembered Girl the German Shepherd Dog on the farm. She too was more than a hand full at nine weeks old. As the oldest child it was my responsibility to care for her, to see to her every need as she grew into an adult dog. My dad who drove trucks for a living decided we needed her on the farm. All I remember about it was one cold winter day we had a puppy that was not a hound dog and was not fit for hunting or so I thought.

As time crept by that winter I acquired two Black and Tan long eared hounds, two females from the same litter. My brothers and I worked with the hounds as they grew into young dogs. Girl was a few months older than the hounds and nearly an adult dog that had became a nuisance I couldn’t escape by the time the black and tans were hunting rabbets.

Spring had come and gone, summer was winding down, the corn was picked and put away, the summer hay was cut and baled and the dogs were looking good for the winter hunting season. I was a happy camper that year I'd worked hard all summer and saved enough to buy a 1954 ford pick up with a dog box and a well used Winchester automatic shotgun.

It was my sixteenth winter and it was a cold one that year. My brother and I decided to go for a smoke something that was forbidden. We smoked Prince Albert in a can and learned to role our own early in life.

Under the excuse of taking the hounds out for a run around the corn field we made our way to the big old oak tree at the edge of the field. We were rolling Prince Albert up and sticking a match when the hounds jumped something in the corn field. Although the young hounds weren’t fully grown they’d graduated from chasing rabbets to raccoons and as it turned out they’d ran up on an old bad boy who decided to fight rather than run.

The sound of hounds running through the night was music to my young ears; I always became as excited as the dogs when they worked a trail. This night had a surprise in store for us though; normally the young black and tans only ran a short distance before returning to their starting point, but this night the hunt ended quickly.

My bro and I scurried through the sandspur infested corn field to find the biggest old three legged raccoon whipping the crap out of my black and tan hounds. One dog was already down and bleeding profusely and the other was under attack, the raccoon had the pup's head wrapped between its front paws and was slicing away with his one back leg doing a grand job of disabling my other pried and joy. I kicked the raccoon and it took the opportunity to attach him self to my boot and climb my leg leaving tracks in my skin under three layers of clothing. Out of the dark my nemeses Girl, whom I couldn’t rid my self of, came as a blur into the fight and the raccoon met his match.

As usual Girl, my German shepherd Dog had been in the back ground lying quietly waiting until she was needed. She saved the day that night and I found a new respect for an animal rarely matched by man or beast. She with no thought given to her own safety protected me from massive injury.

Girl was my first German shepherd Dog and she too had to be let out at two in the morning when she was but a pup. It was well worth the trouble then and I'm more than sure it will be again.

True story, happened in the winter of1970.
 

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thats a great story!
 

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Wonderful story ... having some experience with *****, Girl was one brave German Shepherd !!! Thanks for sharing ! :)
 
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