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To the Rescue: A Dog Story
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By Garden of Cross Timbers
Hello, I am Becky Carlberg, gardening enthusiast from Southeast Oklahoma. I have degrees in Biology from Eastern Oklahoma State College and Oklahoma State University. Teaching, research work, and competing in art shows then followed. I earned my ...
Gardens of Cross Timbers

Hello, I am Becky Carlberg, gardening enthusiast from Southeast Oklahoma. I have degrees in Biology from Eastern Oklahoma State College and Oklahoma State University. Teaching, research work, and competing in art shows then followed. I earned my Master’s Degree in Plant Pathology from OSU and continued graduate work on a Doctorate of Botany at the University of Oklahoma.

With my family, we twice had an opportunity to live in Europe. We were in England for five years and then later in Germany for seven years. It was an excellent education for our sons. I returned to gardening, writing and art, became a Master Gardener, as well as an Oklahoma certified Master Naturalist. I am the gardener in charge of the Shawnee Japanese Peace Garden, a member of the Deep Fork Audubon Society, and now call my five acre Backyard Wildlife Habitat and Oklahoma Wildscape outside Shawnee home.

My name is Linda Workman Smith. The first step of my gardening journey began in the hills northwest of Van Buren, Arkansas, where my parents—both from farming families—raised seven children.

This is not to say that I’ve always had a love for gardening although over the years I’ve managed to keep my hands in the dirt. In 2000, my husband’s employment brought us to Shawnee where we settled on two acres west of town. Being unemployed for the first time in many years—and planning to stay that way—I started gardening on a small scale.

I have been a member of the Multi-County Master Gardener Association for several years and thoroughly enjoy being in the organization. I now have many flower beds and I’ve expanded my gardens to include lots of vegetable varieties, several fruit trees, strawberries, blackberries, raspberries and grapes. Every year I try to plant something different. I don’t grow a lot of any one thing, but a little bit of lots of things!

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By Garden of Cross Timbers
May 3, 2013 12:18 a.m.

03 May 2013 Blog Part 2
Rebecca Emerson Carlberg
The Rescue. It does involve red cedars, tangled brush, barb wire fence and a large pond. First I told my mom we had rescued a dog. She reminisced of a time years ago, when our family happened upon a poor puppy that had been tied up to a pole and abandoned at Wrightsville Beach, Wilmington, N.C. We all gathered around the starving thirsty thing, still alive, and took it to the vet. The vet could not save the animal.
Next I told our son that we had rescued a dog. “Oh no, not another one” he remarked. “Didn’t the last one cost you $700”? That was last year, when a local family’s house was repossessed, and they left with their possessions, but not their female pit bull. She remained chained at the house. They did come back once, broke into the locked house through a window, and threw her some moldy bread on their way out. Never saw the people again. The dog got loose, was caught, spent several days at the vets as she was in such bad shape, and then was taken to a place for rest and rehabilitation. A very big thank you to SPAR (Saving Pets at Risk). They helped with costs and finding a home for her. Happy and healthy, she was later adopted out to a wonderful family.
This last Saturday I heard a dog barking by the rancher/neighbor’s pond across the road. I knew he had no dogs and raised cattle on that land. The sounds were coming from a wooded area by the water. Someone may have been out walking with his or her dog. I heard the dog, same place, that afternoon. Hmmm. I heard the dog Sunday morning. We talked with our rancher/neighbor, and he had heard a dog, but it sounded far away. That afternoon a man drove by, asking if we had seen an escaped beagle. No, but I told him I had heard this dog barking across the road. He checked it out and found nothing. The dog briefly barked later in the afternoon, the rancher/neighbor was again contacted, and he took his 4 wheeler around his pond. No dog.
Monday morning, dog barked, still at the same location. I heard a short bout of barking in the evening, made another neighborly call, but neighbor had not heard the dog that day at all. My husband said he’d walk the area on Tuesday if the barking continued. Tuesday, silence. If there was a dog, he must be gone. Wednesday, one hoarse bark. That animal had to be found. I called my husband at work. Please, before the weather shifts, come and let’s look for this dog. He drove back from work and together we walked down the road. My husband entered the wooded pasture while I walked up and down, listening for the direction of any bark. No bark, just whistling and “here pup, come here.” I thought if we were quiet, the dog would tell us where it was. After a few moments of silence, the dog barked once. Where was it?
My husband walked back and forth around the trees, and up and down the hill. The dog barked twice. My husband circled a small copse of trees, looked inside, and there, with its rope tied and knotted around trees and brush, was a bound-up young beagle. He had worn down a place about 2 feet in diameter in his attempts to escape. The rope had to be cut, and the dog was led out, scrawny and thin, but strong and alive. We walked him back to our house and called his owner, whose telephone number was on the collar. Good idea.
The beagle drank water and ate some milk bones. My husband sat down and the dog sat in his lap, giving him a lick on his face every so often. You could see the thankfulness in those deep brown beagle eyes. The owner came and could not believe the dog was still alive. The beagle was taken back home and we breathed a deep sigh of relief. What would be the odds of this? I did not want to think of a dog unable to free itself, being caught out and exposed to this approaching unseasonably cold wet weather system…. especially since he had already been without food or water for 5 days.
A very good ending.

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