The Evening News. November 10, 1916

34. A Love Story

This is a love story. It is a dog story. The hero is Dixie, a dog at the Bernals' Santa Teresa ranch.

Dogs are the truest friends, the best lovers, the only living creature that care for others more than they care for themselves. They alone give devotion and ask no return. It is time to cease speaking of dogs in terms of contempt and of kings in terms of nobility. Instead of saying, "That man is a prince or a king," one should say "That man is a dog." All should understand that nobility and fidelity are indicated.

Dixie was not an aristocrat. He was part shepherd and part bull terrier. As a puppy he was bought by Mrs. Bernal of a neighbor for six chickens. He was an irresistible, little, sandy puppy with a white collar-like streak around his neck. He had intelligent eyes. He seemed to want to speak so badly that silence for Dixie was a frightful injustice. Still Dixie did talk eloquently on nearly any subject with his eyes. Without words he and the Bernal family understood each other.

He responded to the lessons given him. He learned to leap into the carriage without scratching it. Dixie was a lover of harmony. When Antonio and Pedro Bernal pretended that they were wrestling Dixie always tried to separate them by pulling their coats.

Dixie loved to hunt. Sometimes he went hunting even before breakfast but always after he finished his morning meal, he dashed off to revel in a thousand morning smells and to exult in the joy of living and of being Dixie. At the Santa Teresa ranch there were rabbits, squirrels, coons, gophers and coyotes to stir his senses. He was never as happy as when he could travel. When the Bernal family went to San Jose, toward night Dixie alone used to go three miles to meet them. He was the pet of the family, but he was also the boss. Especially did he dislike to have other dogs come to the ranch.

Dixie's great moment in living was when he could go hunting with Antonio or Pedro Bernal. Once in the forest Dixie was maddened by the intoxicating smells that spoke to him and challenged him. Twelve years ago Antonio Bernal took him hunting in the mountains near King City, 200 miles for the Santa Teresa ranch.

Dixie had never traveled so far. He liked the great new world, the forest, the smell of deer. He leaped about, wagged his tail, barked and went from one madness to another until he was almost like a wild dog. Antonio Bernal was intent on hunting deer. Dixie, intoxicated with a joy of new quarry, ran far from the sound of his master's voice. He probably became entangled in a thicket of underbrush from which he could not escape. He was lost to Antonio.

Regretfully Antonio Bernal came back to Santa Teresa without Dixie. He had to break the news to the family. Dixie was lost 200 miles from home. Jose Billagrana, who had worked at the Bernal ranch for 20 years, was sad. The women of the family wept. A beloved friend was lost. They hoped he would return, but he did not. By and by they spoke of him as being dead. They recalled his baby ways, his little endearing tricks and kisses. Finally they spoke of Dixie no more. They thought of him with a sigh.

Ten years passed. Other dogs took Dixie's place. One morning two years ago Mrs. Bernal went out to feed the dogs under the fig tree. Pedro Bernal noticed a strange yellow dog timidly approach and silently ask for food. The yellow dog was weak, shabby, thin, old, devoured with fleas. He looked sick. Pedro was afraid the strange dog would give the other dogs a disease. He drove him away.

The strange dog went, but he came back to Mrs. Bernal, looked at her still begging.

"That dog is sick," said Pedro. "Don't feed him. He'll spoil the others."

"I am going to feed him anyway, "said Mrs. Bernal. The strange dog wagged his tail and curled his lip as if he were smiling.

The keenest eye on the ranch belonged to Jose Billagrana. He looked over the tramp dong. "I believe that's our old Dixie." The others tried to see Dixie in the ragged, hungry dog, but they couldn't.

"It's not possible," Pedro said. "Dixie was lost ten years ago. But he had a black mark on his collar under his chin." He inspected the strange dog. There was a black mark. "I believe it is Dixie."

At the sound of his name the dog began dancing around him, smiling, wagging his tail. He tried to tell them that he was Dixie.

Pedro Bernal wanted to make sure. He brought the carriage out of the barn and told the dog to hop into it. With one bound the strange dog sprang into the carriage without scratching the sides. He took his place in the old way and hung his head over the dashboard.

Then the Bernals gave Dixie the final test. Pedro and Antonio pretended they were wrestling. The strange dog leaped at them, pulled their coasts, tried to separate his beloved friends from fighting. There was no more doubt. It was Dixie!

Dixie had traveled ten years to find home. He had starved, grown old, become a tramp dog, worn off his toenails making a living to come to them. At last old, hungry, flea bitten, he had found his beloved friends.

Like a lost child Dixie was wept over, fed, bathed, and brushed. He looked younger, healthier. In a month he was his own self. He thrust off the porch the dogs who had taken his place. Once more he was boss of the ranch. That was two years ago. Now Dixie is nearly 14, but he shows few signs of age. When the Bernals come to San Jose, he runs three miles from the ranch to meet them. During the day he sleeps, but at night he is always on guard. With his life he protects not only the Santa Teresa ranch, but the houses of two neighbors.

Transcribed by Kitty LaFavor, for the Santa Clara Co. CAGenWeb Project. 2008