Now, I just have to tell you of the first real sad story that I heard while growing up. It was recorded in the school reader around grade 4. (it may still be there). The teacher was standing out front reading the lines as I ran my finger intently along the page, following each word as it was spoken. Well, the story goes something like this. There once lived this rich family in England where the mother had recently given birth to a new born baby. The baby was dearly loved by the father, as all babies are. The father was of the landed gentry, and so he would often conduct fox hunts, to try and rid this predator from his property. His most trusted, faithful and family loved hunt dog was called, Gerhard. Now for many years Gerhard, was always the enthusiastic, ferocious leader in the hunt for those vicious, stock killing foxes. This particular day the father called out for Gerhard to join the hunt, but he was no where to be seen, so the hunt had to begin without him. On his return, the father went into the house and saw a great disturbance in the room of his new born child. The father was aghast the room was a wreak there was blood on the walls, and there was no sign of his precious child. Out from the mangled mess emerged Gerhard, blood dripping from his mouth, but instinct drew him naturally to his master’s side. The father understood immediately what had happened and without hesitating, he did what any father would do. Folks! I have to tell you, the teachers words that day, spoken some 40 years ago, pierced my heart and etched a vision that will last my whole life: and to the hilt his vengeful sword he thrust in Gerhard’s side. As the dog lay dying panting gasping – bleeding to death, the father heard a faint cry. He tore back the covering furniture and fabrics, but what he saw caused him to break down in anguish and weep the baby was alive and untouched, but lying beside it was the ripped, bloodied, but slain body of a fox.- I wept too!
