Biographical Poetry posted June 22, 2015 | Chapters: | ...23 24 -25- 26... |
A little collie goes a long way
A chapter in the book Miscellaneous Poems - vol 3
Bob the Railway Dog
by CD Richards
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A newspaper cutting stuck to the back of the photograph shown above states:
"On a spring morning in 1885, 32 years back, Bob, then a young puppy, was among about 200 other dogs in a sheep van bound from Terowie to the far north, above Quorn, there to be used in exterminating rabbits. The train stopped at Peterborough, and I saw Mr. William Seth Ferry, then foreman porter at Peterborough, exchange another dog for Bob. Bob was taken from the sheep truck and commenced his railway career that minute. Mr Ferry trained him as a puppy to do all sorts of tricks, and later when he was guard on the narrow gauge northern lines, took Bob thousands of miles with him in the guard's van. Occasionally Bob went with enginemen, riding on the coal stacked on the tender. Mr Ferry left the road to become assistant stationmaster at Peterborough. Mr Short, now Railway Commissioner in Western Australia, was then stationmaster at Peterborough and the write goods clerk. Bob, however, loved the engine whistle and the rattle of the trains and took possession of his seat on the coal stacked on the engine tender of any out or homeward bound train. Peterborough was his home. Bob travelled hundreds of thousands miles this way. His cheery bark and wagging tail greeted thousands. Children in particular would exclaim 'There's Bob! Good old Bob', as the trains went by. There was not one permanent way man's kiddie who did not have a wave for Bob at one time or another. He did a steamer trip from Port Augusta to Port Pirie by mistake. A Pirie engine's whistle was enough for Bob. He was on the way to reach it almost before the boat touched the wharf. For many years he wore a collar, placed on him by friendly enginemen, inscribed: 'Stop me not, but let me jog, For I am Bob, the Driver's Dog'. If there is a better home than this planet for dogs, hundreds of railway men who knew and loved Bob will join me in hoping that he reached it. He died many years ago. His skin was stuffed, and for years stood in a glass case in the Exchange Hotel. If in existence now it would be a generous deed to send it to the railwaymen at Peterborough."
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. "On a spring morning in 1885, 32 years back, Bob, then a young puppy, was among about 200 other dogs in a sheep van bound from Terowie to the far north, above Quorn, there to be used in exterminating rabbits. The train stopped at Peterborough, and I saw Mr. William Seth Ferry, then foreman porter at Peterborough, exchange another dog for Bob. Bob was taken from the sheep truck and commenced his railway career that minute. Mr Ferry trained him as a puppy to do all sorts of tricks, and later when he was guard on the narrow gauge northern lines, took Bob thousands of miles with him in the guard's van. Occasionally Bob went with enginemen, riding on the coal stacked on the tender. Mr Ferry left the road to become assistant stationmaster at Peterborough. Mr Short, now Railway Commissioner in Western Australia, was then stationmaster at Peterborough and the write goods clerk. Bob, however, loved the engine whistle and the rattle of the trains and took possession of his seat on the coal stacked on the engine tender of any out or homeward bound train. Peterborough was his home. Bob travelled hundreds of thousands miles this way. His cheery bark and wagging tail greeted thousands. Children in particular would exclaim 'There's Bob! Good old Bob', as the trains went by. There was not one permanent way man's kiddie who did not have a wave for Bob at one time or another. He did a steamer trip from Port Augusta to Port Pirie by mistake. A Pirie engine's whistle was enough for Bob. He was on the way to reach it almost before the boat touched the wharf. For many years he wore a collar, placed on him by friendly enginemen, inscribed: 'Stop me not, but let me jog, For I am Bob, the Driver's Dog'. If there is a better home than this planet for dogs, hundreds of railway men who knew and loved Bob will join me in hoping that he reached it. He died many years ago. His skin was stuffed, and for years stood in a glass case in the Exchange Hotel. If in existence now it would be a generous deed to send it to the railwaymen at Peterborough."
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