It was a cold, rainy early spring morning in 1964, when I decided to have an adventure. I was always trying to climb trees, hike through the woods, and do many things a two-year-old little girl should not do. After hearing "no" so many times and failing to get permission to do such things, I found a way around them. I used to get up in the wee hours of the morning. As everyone else slept, I would quietly creep out the door, free to do as I pleased.
This story is made up of partial memories of mine, as well as the "campfire" stories subsequently told about this adventure by family members.
It had rained all night, a hard, steady, record-breaking rain for Eastern Missouri. It was still dark, but that did not deter me. I had King, our family dog with me. King was a hefty Bull Mastiff mix. He was a fixture to me. I was always playing with him, giving him candy, and many other things a dog shouldn't have. He also secretly shared his dog food with me, which I'm sure a two-year-old girl shouldn't have. We had our own little secret society. It was a private club, and King and I were the only members.
I do not remember everywhere I went that cold spring morning. I know we must have had some adventure, though, because I was covered from head to toe in mud. I had nothing on but a pair of training pants. After a while, I must have gotten cold, because I vaguely remember shivering and holding on tight to King because he was warm. I remember mud, rushing water, lightening, thunder, sirens, panic ridden voices, and that's about it. The rushing rain had turned our little ditch into a roaring river, which swirled through our back yard. Everything calm and beautiful turned into something dark and scary. It had become quite a treacherous trip for a little girl and her dog.
Through my shivering, my teeth began chattering, making a sound I had never heard in my short life. It scared me, but King told me in his own little way that everything would be fine, and I believed him. Through the sound of my chattering teeth I heard sirens. I remember thinking someone must be robbing the little store down the street and the police were chasing them. Then, mixed in with the sirens, I heard distressed voices and many footsteps.
As King and I made our way back to the house, all I remember is such a feeling of relief at seeing the house and knowing it would be warm and comfortable inside. I wanted to get there the quickest way I knew how, and that was to cross the ditch, which had now become a roaring river fit for whitewater rafting. The rest of the story fades in my memory, as the next thing I truly remember is being in my Mother's arms, hugging her as she cried tears of joy.
And now...the rest of the story. My Mother, Grandmother, and Grandfather had found that I was gone that morning, and immediately dispatched many neighbors and organized a search party. These were the anxious voices I heard. After some time went by and they couldn't find me, the police were called. Those were the sirens I heard. My Mom's brother, my Uncle had stayed at the house in case I came back, while everyone else had joined the search party.
As my Uncle paced nervously back and forth, anxiously looking out each window he passed for any sign of me, he stopped at the window overlooking the back yard. He saw me and King making our way toward the house. Just then, my Mom and Grandparents had come back in to warm themselves before rejoining the search. They all looked out the window, and my Mom said, "Go! Get her!" My Uncle told her to wait because he had noticed that I was trying to cross the raging river that was normally our ditch. Every time I would try to get into the rushing water, King would block my way. This little dance went on, as King "herded" me in the direction he wanted. Finally, we came to the place in the yard where my Grandfather had built a little bridge so we could cross the ditch. King forced me to walk across that bridge, and only when he saw that I was safely on the other side, lumbered across, himself.
Everyone was overjoyed, and so began the tale of King and me, when we had our adventure. King was a fitting name for our dog, for after that day, he was always treated like a "King." Over the years, I've heard my family tell the story many times. It still amazes me that dogs know by instinct things that we would never believe. I did not have the wherewithal to know that I would likely drown if I tried to cross that ditch. King somehow knew that he couldn't let me get into that water. And they say HUMANS are the smartest animals?!