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"Pearl and Denver the Dog,"

by Pearl Ginther (age 99)

We had a dog called Sandy on the farm, but she needed another dog to be friends with. (Continued by Son Ronald) Bob and I hadn't gone on our honeymoon yet, but we thought that we could take the folks along and all enjoy the trip together to western South Dakota and the Badlands.

They were happy to attend the "newlyweds," and we went in one car together, with a tent and other necessities packed for the long trip west.

It was dry and hot in such country that we came to, and kept getting drier and hotter, but we enjoyed the many beauties and grandeur even of the rock formations, cliffs, and mountainous scenery. The Badlands were particularly beautiful, with their colored rocks formed into endless arrays of strange shapes. Some rocks were stacked, naturally, one on top of the other, and had been that way for centuries, it appeared. Who could move so many rocks into place like that but God, and keep them there too? It was all a marvel to the folks, and to Bob and me as well.

After passing through into Wyoming and seeing the endless sweeping praires there, we came to Colorado, and then descended to Denver. There we aimed to have a reunion with Bob's youngest brother John Ginther, called Jack. They had not seen each other in years.

We found him at his city address, residing in a very nice neighborhood with a mother and her teen-age daughter. A friend of theirs was also there visiting. We took many pictures, of this lovely, well-cared-for house and of Bob and Jack together, and in a group picture of us all on the house steps. We were treated like royalty the whole time by Jack's landlady and her young daughter and lady friend. This was a most welcome place to land, after several days of camping out under the stars at places along the road, as we didn't stop at any roadside motels to spare us the expense. It gave us time to get rested up and have several good hot baths too! Refreshed, we gave dear Jack and his hospitable friends our grateful thanks and goodbyes, and hoped we would meet them all again sometime. Of course, that did not happen, for Jack was not altogether well even at that time, and he did not live very long, and we lost contact with him. He worked for the city inspecting new houses, so he had a good job.

Happily, it was at this house that we were first acquainted with "Denver," the young white and spotted, mix-breed dog that the daughter of the house had. When it came to a name, it was the city's name that stuck to him right off, so we went along with it. We were offered the dog, and Papa accepted it at once, as he had wanted another dog for the Farm, and this was a most friendly and lovable creature you could want in a dog. It was agreed, that he should go with us. Denver then accompanied us back to South Dakota and the Farm, and never once caused us any trouble by running off along the way. That showed he took to Papa right off, and didn't want to leave him!

Oh! Despite all the pleasures and fun of this long trip of Bob's and my honeymoon, it was so good to let the car rest its tires for a spell. We were all happy to pile into the kitchen to have ourselves a hot cup of fresh coffee and some donuts our dear Mama whipped up for us in no time at all. Ruthie was a dear to keep things going so well in our absence, so the folks didn't have to be concerned. Donuts and coffee can go a long way to liven you up after such a long trip, which we had all enjoyed it greatly, and Denver seemingly most of all. He took to the Farm immediately as if he had always lived there, running about and having himself a good time. On the Farm he would have plenty of space and clean air, and no cars and trucks to dodge as he would have had to contend with in the big city he came from. It was the best place for him, and the sweet girl who gave him up to us was wise enough to realize this and not be too unhappy with his departing with us.

We hoped she would find a replacement, one that was a smaller dog and could be kept in the house, which was the reason probably the lady of the house had to let him go to us.

Denver was the best dog, it turned out, we ever had on the Farm. At least they didn't have to let him go to strangers! That too was a comfort to the daughter, I expect. She knew he would be well looked after with us.

He was no trouble at all, as I recall. Sandy now had a good dog friend to run about with. Everyone had a good word for him. He lived a long, full life there. I don't recall where Papa finally buried him when he passed away. But we know he was where he loved to be, and there he is resting still--somewhere out on good old Plain View Farm!

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