Life around the farm settled into a normal routine.  Wake in the early am for morning chores, then an hour bus ride for school.  After school, an hour bus ride home, then chores. After chores was homework, then if any time left, leasure time.  Summer time was an opportunity for me to immerse myself in the glory of being a young boy with a huge back yard to play in.  I would leave the house after morning chores, and would not return till time for evening chores.  I wandered around our farm, and a few surrounding farms, just being at peace with myself and nature.  Occasionally a friend would join me on my wanderings, but they would soon get board with it. I would take them back to the house and entertain them there, while my heart and mind yearned for the quiet solitude of the land.

Time passed and I grew, at age 11 or 12 a new friend joined me.  He was a pure bred Collie, Duke and I became fast friends and he went EVERYWHERE! with me.  If I left the house he was by my side.  He would walk me to the bus stop, then return home, only to return like clock work to meet me when I got home from school. As I got older and was able to finally drive legally he went with me as often as I would let him.  If not he would lay on the front porch pouting, until I returned. The Summer between 11th, and 12th grade I lost Duke to a pack of coyotes.  My mother yelled up to me one late summer morning, "Mark!!! Duke is hurt!!!  I raced down the stairs to find him laying on the front porch, covered in blood barely alive.  I ask my mom to call the vet, and I rushed him there.  15 minutes later I was at the vets, he examined him and told me what had happened.  Dr Pop gave me the grim news, "there isnt much I can do but keep him comfortable".  I called my house, and mom said it was my decision.  17 years old and already making a life and death decision.  WOW. Duke passed with my arms around him, his fur wet with my tears. I took him home and buried him, alone.