Chapter 3: High Prairie

"Pa said, 'Wolves. Half a mile away, I'd judge. Well, where there's deer there will be wolves. I wish....'

Pa didn't say what he wished, but Laura knew. He wished Jack were there. When wolves howled in the Big Woods, Laura had always known that Jack would not let them hurt her. A lump swelled hard in her throat and her nose smarted. She winked fast and did not cry. That wolf, or perhaps another wolf, howled again.

'Bedtime for little girls!' Ma said, cheerfully."

After leaving the rich bottom lands and climbing high onto the prairie, Pa, Ma, and the girls make camp for the night. Pa lets the horses out onto their picket lines. Pet and Patty are so happy to be free of the harness that they roll back and forth in the long, soft grass.

Pa carefully starts a campfire for Ma to make supper on. Mary and Laura help Ma make little cornmeal cakes and fry fat salt pork. Everyone is hungry after such a long day and enjoys the delicious meal.

At bedtime the wolves begin to howl and Laura is afraid. Jack is not there anymore to keep the wolves away. Ma calls Laura and Mary to bed, but Laura doesn't come. She sees something staring out in the grass, eyes glowing in the firelight. "Pa!" Laura calls.

Pa grabs his gun and watches the strange animal. He throws sticks to scare it away, but it doesn't leave. Pa slowly walks toward the creature and the creature crawls slowly towards Pa. Suddenly Pa shouts and Laura screams.

It is Jack! He is safe and he has found them again.

Thoughts:
Well, it's a good thing I didn't drown Finley last week! That would have been awkward. "Oooops, sorry Finley. I guess you were supposed to survive after all." Reading this chapter, I had the perfect activity to go along with it....Getting a new puppy. What better way to experience the joys of being reunited with a pet you'd feared dead than getting a new furry family friend!

Only one problem. There are no puppies here. We live in a rural area where puppy litters seem to be few and far between simply because people are few and far between. And there are no puppies right now.



Unwilling to wait until puppy season to complete this chapter, I went with something a easier to accomplish. I decided to make a little Jack the Brindle Bulldog pet using a pattern copied out of Pet Crafts by Heidi Boyd, a book I borrowed from the library.



I found some brindled flannel at our local fabric emporium, an establishment at the back of the town barber shop, and got busy cutting out the pieces. I traced the patterns free-hand as I had no way of enlarging them and modified them to make them a little more like a brindled bulldog. I also scaled it a lot smaller to better suit my purposes for the completed project.




With right sides together, I stitched the fabric pieces, leaving openings for turning (I never make them big enough and have to snip stitches when it comes time to turn the stuff right side out).






After turning everything right side out, I stuffed the pieces with polyester stuffing and my secret ingredient.



I hand stitched the ears into their holes and closed up the body of the dog by stitching the tail into the opening. Then I embroidered the facial features; I should have done that before I ever sewed any of the pieces together, but I didn't want to mess with it at the time. Of course it was much more difficult doing it later. I do that a lot.


Behold, the completed Jack the Brindle Bulldog. Now to find his destiny.


"Jack was perfectly well. But soon he lay down close to Laura and sighed a long sigh. His eyes were red with tiredness, and all the under part of him was caked with mud. Ma gave him a cornmeal cake and he licked it and wagged politely, but he could not eat. He was too tired."

Poor, POOR Jack, forced to swim for miles before he could break free of the killer current and reach shore. Then he had to make his way for miles through empty prairie filled with wolves, coyotes, and wild cats. How glad he must have been to be safe with his family again. But MY little Jack would not be so lucky, not so lucky, indeed.



Jack the Brindle Bulldog's secret ingredient. I think he looks a little worried, don't you?






Snickers began the hunt before poor Jack was even out of the bag I carried him home in. For a minute I couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with my shopping bag!



"Under the wagon Jack wearily turned around three times, and lay down to sleep."

No rest for our Jack. I set him out on the living room floor and called the cats. Warning: the following scenes are extremely graphic. They may not be suitable for small children or people with sensitive stomachs.




It was AWFUL! Poor Jack will never be the same again. He's been chewed on, rolled on, gnawed on, and licked on by every cat but Hobbes, who can't smell him because of his nose condition. But bulldogs are a tough breed, and Jack is doing OK, even though he has a bit of a nervous twitch. So I guess our story had a happy ending, too.