In the mid 1950’s my family left Virginia and moved to Georgia. I had a dog at the time whose name was Pups. He was one of granddad’s deer dogs, so he stayed behind when we moved. After we got settled we got a puppy and to keep things simple and he was also named Pups. His tail curled over his back like a chow, but he didn’t look like a chow. His heritage was unknown, but we liked him. My brother and sister would run through the house to get Pups to chase them. I tried to get them to stop, but this became a regular game.

When the dog got a little older, if someone ran from him they would get bit on the ankle. When someone would visit, we had to get control of the dog. He would bark and if someone tried to move away from him, he might bite them. Other than this he was a good dog.

One day while walking down the road in front of the house, a car came speeding by and hit Pups. I watched as the dog somersaulted down the road three or four times and came to rest lifeless as the car sped away. As I stood there contemplating what to do about my dog that had just been killed, Pups got up and ran back to the house. I was sure that I had just witnessed a miracle. He seemed to be unharmed, other than a broken tail that no longer curled over his back. Pups was tough.

One Easter, we got a couple of baby ducks. The ducks grew up together and were inseparable. They stayed in the yard with the dogs and were always up to some kind of mischief. Pups was their main target. They would catch the dog sleeping and come across the yard side by side quacking to each other as to say hey y’all watch this. Then one would walk in front of the dog and the other to his rear. The one in front would then peck the dog on the head. When the dog woke up to attack the duck, the other would peck him on the tail. As the dog spun around confused, the ducks would run off side by side laughing in duck hysteria.

One day, one of the ducks became ill and passed away, leaving the other one to fend for himself. This duck immediately took up with Pups and they became best buddies. Wherever the dog went the duck would follow. We could be in the far back cornfield with Pups and the duck would soon appear, he would make his way through the woods, through the briars or anywhere else to keep up with the dog.

I felt sorry for the duck and one day I took him down to the creek to let him swim. When I placed him in the water he began thrashing around acting like I was trying to drown him. He and the dog were best friends and he did not want to be treated like a duck when he knew he was a dog. The duck had made the best of the situation he was in. He was happy and content just being a dog. Sometimes when I find myself in a situation that requires a little adaptability to resolve, I think of the lesson I learned from a duck.

Frank Hancock has worked as a Farm Manager, Vocational Agriculture Teacher, Vice President at Snapper and currently serves as the University of Georgia Agricultural Extension Agent in Henry County. He is a also a member of the Heritage Writers Group.