The White Dog

by Kath

My father's cousin, Des, is now in his 80s, but when he worked he worked for the government doing 'Lands and Survey' meaning that he travelled around to a lot of the huge 'sheep stations' - like ranches, I suppose, in the South Island; often high up in the mountain ranges. Mostly he went by horse, and would travel from one station to another, and got to know the station owners and managers very well. One told him this story, and he was telling me about it just a couple of months ago.

 

This particular 'sheep station' had been in the same family for several generations, and there was a small family cemetery on a hill behind the homestead. One night the phone went in the owner's home, and the man who spoke to him said 'you don't know me, but - nearly 40 years ago - my father used to work on the station'. This was when the present owner was just a child.

 

The man on the phone said he had an unusual request. He said that his father was very ill, and likely to die very soon, and had said he had only one request - to be buried in the small family cemetery at the station. As this was where, he felt, he had spent some of his happiest times with his horses and his dogs, up in the mountains.

 

The station owner said that he was prepared to allow the request, and asked the son to contact him again and let him know as soon as the father passed away. A few nights later the son called back to say his father had died peacefully, and arrangements were soon made for the funeral.

 

On the day of the funeral the station owner had been out with his horse and dogs rounding up sheep. He had not intended to be present at the funeral, feeling it was a 'family occasion' but had told the mourners they were welcome to come to his home afterwards. He returned home and could see, on the hill, that the mourners were just arriving for the service. He released his horse and tied up his dogs. One of the dogs was pure white - a very unusual thing, to have a pure white sheep dog. He checked the dogs' leads, and made off for the house, where he stood outside with his family, watching

the service from a distance. Suddenly, he noticed that his white dog had escaped and had run right to the side of the grave, where it was sitting, looking intently down. At first he thought to go and get the dog, he felt embarrassed, but then thought he would leave it, as the dog was sitting quietly, and he did not want to further disrupt the service. He noticed that the mourners were looking anxiously at the dog, though, and muttering quietly to themselves.

 

As soon as the service was over, and the coffin interred in the earth, the white dog jumped up and ran down to his owner. The owner took the dog back to his kennel, but could not see how the dog could have escaped. Later, the mourners came to the homestead, and the son of the deceased man came to talk to the station owner. Immediately, the station owner began to apologise for the behaviour of the dog, saying he could not imagine why the dog had run to the grave, nor how he had even got off his leash.

 

The son replied that this was actually a wonderful thing to have happened. He told the owner that after he had phoned and ascertained that his father could be buried at the station his father had told him that he felt that he could now die at peace to think that he would be returned to a place he had not seen for so many years, but which he loved so well. He then said to the son that at his funeral there would be a sign to show them that this life was not the end; he said the sign would be in the form of a pure white dog who attended his funeral and would watch over him as his coffin was being interred.

 

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