by Boyd Simmons

When I was about 10 years old I acquired a small fox terrier pup which I named Ole after my dad who had been known as Ole for many years. His name was Earl. My cousin Virgil, who was 10 years older than me, as a small child had always talked about how much he loved his "Uncle Oil".

Ole was a very affectionate dog and was liked by everyone who knew him. My brother, Clyde, and I especially loved him because we always thought that he had saved our lives.

One Spring we were peeling cascara bark (which was known at that time as chittum bark) a couple miles East of Kalama. For several days Ole refused to leave our sides and continued to bark constantly. We began to see tracks in the dust in the trail that seemed to be circling around us. We went home and told Dad that an animal was following us, but he wasn't convinced that it was anything to be afraid of.

On a Sunday morning the man who lived on 40 acres near where we were peeling came rushing to our house and said something had come into his corral and killed 3 goats and had dragged another one away. He knew we raised hound dogs so he had come us first. We rushed to his place and turned our dogs loose. In about 10 minutes they had treed a large cougar. My dad shot it and when we examined it we found it to be real old with it's claws and teeth nearly worn away. It was very skinny and it was plain to see that it was no longer able to take deer and larger game so it had resorted to dine on livestock. Clyde and I were always sure that if it had not been for Ole's constant barking we would have met the same fate as the 4 goats.

The only time I was ever mad at Ole was one summer when Clyde and I were invited to spend 3 weeks with a fire warden and his wife who lived in a cabin up the Coweeman River. The fishing was great and we were having a great time when our Dad came after us after 2 weeks because Ole had not eaten a bite since we had left home and was about to starve to death. As soon as we got home everything went back to normal, and in a short time he was back as good as new.

Ole lived to be over 20 years of age and was with Clyde and the family for several years after I was gone.

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