Lost From The Train
When I met Alice in Denver in early 1935 she had a pet, a toy fox terrier. The dog was shy and wouldn't go to strangers. After work each evening, Alice would walk the dog, whose name was Cutie, around the block. We lived in the same hotel. She and her mother had a room down the hall. About the third time I called upon her, we were going out for dinner. As she was a little late getting home and wanted to change dresses, I said I would take Cutie for her walk. Alice didn't think she would go with me. I got her harness and leash and she came nicely around the block with me. After that the dog and I were good friends.
In the winter of 1936 we were traveling through western Montana and eastern Montana. There was my wife Alice, Cutie, and I. In summer we had a company car and winter we traveled by train. I had a box made for Cutie and we used to tell her when she got out we would be there to meet her. We always went back to get her as soon as we could.
In those days it took eight hours for a trip from Butte to Spokane. I remember this particular day as it was Alice's birthday. When we got off the train and went to the baggage room there was the box but no dog. The baggage man said about half way over he went to water the dog and he had seen where the box had been chewed till she was able to get out and he looked all over the car but no Cutie. He said at one of the stops she had to get off. That was after 5:00 p.m. So I bought a ticket for myself back to Butte to leave at 9:30. I got Alice settled in a hotel and we went out to have dinner and she saw me off knowing the dog was somewhere in western Montana looking for us.
On my return trip to Butte I told the conductor about the dog getting loose and each stop I asked the station master if they saw such a dog. When I got halfway over they changed crews. The conductor and crew was the same that had come over this far yesterday. So far there was no results and we were over three-quarters of the way back to Butte. The conductor brought the brakeman to me to tell me he saw a strange dog stick his head around the building at the first train stop about 16 miles outside of Butte and he knew it didn't belong to the Spanish railroad employee who worked for the railroad, and his wife and two children who all lived close. When we were about a mile from the station, the train let out a few blasts of the whistle and about one-half mile repeated it. When we got to the station, the man was up and in broken English he said there was a strange dog there and that the children tried to catch it but couldn't. That was around 6:00 a.m. and it was getting light very fast. I found a shed where she bedded down for the night and her foot steps in the snow led me to an auto road about a mile from the station. At the road the snow had melted on the paved road. I started to walk down the road and would call Cutie out loud. I guess I went about one-half mile on the road calling her name often.
Then I looked up and there was Cutie in the middle of the road about a quarter of a block ahead. I called to her but she didn't move. When I would take a few steps she would only back away from me. Soon she stopped and I kept going to her and talking to her. When I was about 25 feet from her she recognized me and came running toward me and leaped in my arms. We went back to the depot and the family treated us fine and he called Butte to be sure the train stopped to pick us up to take us to Spokane. It's all swell that ends well.
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According to Dad's note on the envelope, Lost From The Train was returned from Colorado Old Times on February 11, 1981.
Cutie was about the only thing my mother brought to the December 18, 1935 wedding to my Dad. Her mother kept their car and every thing else of value. Besides that, the marriage was performed at the spur of the moment at the City and County Building by a Justice of the Peace. The witnesses who attested to the marriage were strangers.
I can remember the day that, for some reason, my mother and I walked across Santa Fe Drive. When I looked back, Cutie had slipped through the fence and was crossing the street, following us. When she saw us looking at her, she froze in the street. My mother had the choice of trying to rescue the dog knowing I would probably follow her or stay on the side walk with me.
She stayed with me, the truck stopped after hitting the small dog, and the driver got out. Everything was quite so Mom recrossed Santa Fe, picked up Cutie, and held her while she died in her hands.