The weather was sultry this evening, but there were flashes on the horizon. It could be a pending rain storm or just another false alarm. 1949 had been such a hot and dry summer that the ground was beginning to canker with big cracks in the dry dirt. No one could remember such an uncomfortable season, even for the Ozarks.
Otha and Rosenne Cook sat on the front porch sipping tea and wiping sweat out of their eyes. It was so hot this evening that the bugs had even taken a break and the birds were silent. Just as twilight began to dim there was a pleasant breath of cool air which brought instant relief to the tired couple. It had been a constant effort just to keep up with the chores, and hard to sleep in the hot nights.
Within a few minutes rain began to slowly fall and the cool breeze blew in from the southwest. The Cooks left the front porch to stand in the rain and soak up the coolness of the evening. It wasn't long until the rain picked up and drove them back to the house for shelter.
It would be much easier to sleep tonight, and with the cool breeze through the window and the tapping of rain on the roof, everyone in the house was soon asleep.
Otha dreamed of catfishing on Spring River, one of his favorite pass times. He was sleeping deeper than he had in months when along in the night he awoke to the sound of their dog howling outside.
The rain had slowed, but still sprinkled down, and Otha looked outside into the darkness. He could hear his dog somewhere out in the yard howling with unusual vigor. He was not happy at being woke up from such a deep and needed sleep, but their faithful old dog never barked unless something was really wrong.
Otha worked his way toward the incessant racket the dog was making, straining to see what was wrong. He had to get close to make out the dog in the dark, but when he got there he just found Ol' Jake sitting there howling away. He grabbed the dog by the collar and gave him a yank, but the dog wouldn't budge.
After some fierce pulling Otha discovered the problem. The rain had soaked the dry soil so fast that where his dog was sitting on a crack in the ground, it closed up so fast that the dogs tail was hopelessly stuck. The more Otha pulled on the old dog the more angry he became.
It was so infuriating to be woke from a sound sleep just because the stupid dog was too slow to get his tail out of the ground before it closed up. Otha paced over to the woodpile, grabbed the axe and went right back to Ol' Jake. In one swift stroke he chopped off the dogs tail and Jake ran up under the porch, whimpering and licking his stub.
It didn't take long to get back to sleep with the cool air and pattering rain, and Otha slept soundly till morning. The first thing he knew Rosenne was shaking his shoulder and saying “Otha, listen. What is that sound?” He awoke slowly, realizing that the sun was coming up and the rain had stopped.
It was a “Yap, Yap, Yap” , but not the sound of Ol' Jake. They looked at each other, wondering what kind of intruder had wandered into their yard. The couple stepped sleepily out the front door and began to look for the sound of the unknown animal. They checked under the porch and found Ol' Jake still sleeping, worn out from the trying night.
Rounding the edge of the house, Otha looked at the place where he had chopped off the dogs tail and saw nothing there. Following the sound of the “Yaps” they worked their way toward the barn. There bouncing outside the hog pen, teasing one of the cats was the culprit.
That dog tail had sprouted a new puppy!
This story is a rendition of an old Ozark folk tale, but the characters are real. Otha and Rosenne Cook lived most of their lives around Wyandotte, Oklahoma with their family.
