St Dobpitrotger

'Whiskers'! That's who we called him and he passed through once a year with his swag and billy; this time with a 'heeler' dog close near. Our 'oldies' always said when 'Whiskers' camped beside the creek, to keep away from that old man and don't ever stop to speak. We saw 'Whiskers' in a different light; believing what he says, from fighting in the army and all through his droving days. 'Whiskers' held us in his palm with these stories that he'd claim. He scared us half to death with one. His eyes were mirrors off the flame. I'd asked him what his dog’s name was. 'Whiskers' grinned "It's Codger. I've had him for a year now since I lost me St. Dobpitrotger. That dog was me personal breeding that I battled to rear up, who snarled and growled and barked from the day he was a pup". "I crossed a Doberman the first year with a St. Bernard for size, then crossed one pup with a Pit Bull to get those crazy eyes. The progeny went to a Rottweiler to get the teeth and growl; then a German Shepherd sired me pup; a perfect guard for on the prowl". "That St Dobpitrotger was the meanest dog you'd ever wish to see. I tied him with a towing chain and kept a club right close to me. Any stranger who came near me camp would have to be a dill. He'd strain that chain; froth, roar and bark, and was prepared to kill". "Yes boys he was a savage dog; at feeding time there's vicious signs, when I'd give him half a goat or sheep fed off the pitch fork tines. I'd pass water to him on a shovel, and he would snarl and strain, but the club was always close to me in case he broke that chain". The wind blew up; the flames they danced. 'Whiskers' knew the time was ripe. "What happened to him?" Someone asked. 'Whiskers' sat back and lit his pipe as he pondered for a minute 'til he had us all in his sight. "Well, when I was asleep - some mongrel stole him through the night".