21 April 2011, 3:45 pm
There were no shortages of switch shanty dogs / roundhouse dogs over three or four generations around most railroad properties, I would assume, but certainly on the SP. A couple I know of: “Bosco.” Way before my time, Bosco took up residence at the roundhouse and crew dispatchers / operator’s buildings and offices in Dunsmuir, Ca. Described as a short hair terrier mix, whenever Bosco took it to mind, he’d climb the ladder up a steam engine gangway or into the cab of a Cab Forward and head east for Klamath Falls, Oregon, whenever he felt like it. He couldn’t climb down the ladders however, so crewmen had to help him out there, but for all else he was damned sure his own dog. So after a visit to Klamath Falls of a day or two or three, he’d climb aboard and head back home on a westbound headed for Dunsmuir. Of course, he ate like a king. Then there was “George.” That sobriquet was given him by a herder named Charlie Boyer working in Roseville Yard at a location known as the “subway.” Not underground, the term referred to a low bridge over a very narrow roadway and Dry Creek. And it was that in Feb 1978 George latched on to Charlie, but he was everybody’s dog at the switchman’s shanty at the subway. No one knew where he came from. So after a few months, spring, George was right at home. It was scary to see him cross the many tracks at the subway, with constant activity. But, he weaved in and out and never lost so much as a piece of his tail. I was firing a daylight goat at the subway when I met George that year. Then one spring day, I decided I’d give him a permanent home. It so happened that a switchman had made the same decision at the same time. We flipped a coin and I won. George was going to be a winner either way. The first stop was the vet and the groomer. He got vaccinations and was in excellent health. The vet guessed hid age at about 18 months or a little more. We knew he was a large breed, but he was covered in grease and crud, matted fur that we knew he was yellow. When he walked out of the groomer, he was a beautiful long hair golden / Sheppard cross. Of course I took him to the shanty so that all could see him. But some 36 hours later I wound up running the risk of being unceremoniously strung up by my thumbs in the aforementioned switch shanty. IF I was lucky. If not, I was sure to be strung up by something else, physically a shorter distance from the heart than the thumbs at arm’s length. I had gone to the market for something. Just a quick around the corner and back. I left George in the fenced back yard. Being spring, we were having some really rockin’ and boppin’ thunder storms, that actually spawned two tornadoes in three days time. Needless to say, when I got home, George had scaled the fence and was gone. The thunder had scared him. And if I had lost him… well… I’d be able to sing Frankie’s part in Four Seasons’ songs. I drove, hollered out the window, around and around in ever expanding circles. Farther and farther. Nada. Zero. Zip. I thought about ending my own life somewhat more mercifully than that which waited me at the shanty. THE SHANTY !!! That’s where I went, that’s where he was. He again bid his old buddies adieu and returned home with me. We were never again separated, and he lived out his days on our acreage. That same spring, those heavy storms caused major flooding at the subway. This time, the shanty lost another switch shanty personality. It was a grey field mouse we had dubbed “Algernon,” from the movie. He ran around on top of the baseboards and had a nest under a disused locker. He ate well, too. But, he lost both his home and his life due to that flooding. Even after retiring in 2000, I still have an rr dog, of sorts. My son was walking along the tracks and found a black lab puppy. Her mother and siblings had been run over and killed, so, he stuck her in the pocket of his army surplus fatigue jacket and brought her to me. That was 7 tears and 119 pounds ago. So, have there been these types of guests in your place of work? I can't think of anywhere this goes on unchallenged by carrier management these days. No room for compassion these days. Might detract from the bottom line. What's your furry workplace friends tales? .... Read More »
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