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    quokka
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Farm Tales - 1. FT Chapter 1 - Ben

Farm life has its many ups and downs, and this was probably one of my toughest times of been brought up on a mixed farm.

Having completed a water check, and seeing Mum just returned from shopping in town and taking our farm dog – Ben to the vets, as he was not looking well lately, I headed down to the house for some morning tea, and seeing shopping in the back of the Ute, I picked up the box, not really taking any notice of the hessian bag and headed inside, via the back door.

As I placed the shopping on the kitchen table, Mum broke the news to me that Ben had died, due to Kidney Failure. With Dad in Perth on business, my brothers away at boarding school, it was up to me to bury the farm dog, as Mum had other chores to do.

This is one thing that I had not thought I would be doing, as usually Dad dealt with sick in dead farm animals, but today it was my turn and responsibility.

It took me some time to recover from the loss of our much loved farm dog, before I had enough courage to walk outside, and carefully lift and cary the hessian bag, along with with spade, up past the sheds and into the main laneway, where Ben and I had mustered sheep down to the yards and sheds many times.

Now with tears streaming down my face, I dug a deep hole under a shady tree on a bend in the laneway, stopping a number of times as I struggled with the difficult chore.

With the hole dug, I partly took Ben out of the hessian bag stroking his beautiful black and white coat and giving him a long hug, before placing him back in the bag, and carefully lowering him into the hole, and filling it in.

With the difficult chore done, I wished and hoped that I would not have to do that ever again… Sadly it was not the last time.

Copyright Preston Wigglesworth May 2022 All Rights Are Reserved
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Very recognisable, brings back memories, our dog was as old as I was.  We got him when I was a toddler. He reached the very old age of 19 for a dog, then had to be put to sleep because he had cancer. We buried him at home under the apple tree in the meddow, were he usually sat holding the fort . Nearest farm was a mile away, but one can hope and bark😉.Only cried for a day or two, still hope that if there's something more, I will see him again.

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