The Meadow

By Charles H. Rudolph

The Meadow is about a boy growing up on a farm while being loved and nurtured by his family and neighbors. Read about the adventures of Charlie and his two best friends—the lovable Labrador retrievers, Martha and George—as they romp, play, and have fun together. The Meadow is a book for people with a love for family, traditional values, and a slower pace to life. It is a book for all ages to enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728308067

Charles H. Rudolph

Chuck Rudolph was born in Morgantown, West Virginia, and lived in Parkersburg, West Virginia for about 20 years. Mr. Rudolph has been a high school history teacher for 28 years. He is the author of 10 books, and has been a writer for more than a decade. He likes to laugh and play with his dogs, and spend time with family and friends. Chuck is an avid animal lover, fitness enthusiast, and he never misses a Pittsburgh Steelers game. He currently resides near Fredericksburg, Virginia, where he happily shares his home with his dogs Zoey, Chloe, Sophia, and Charlie; and his cats Dixie and Jefferson.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Charlie Russell loved his dogs more than anything else in the world, except for maybe his parents. Growing up at his farm called The Meadow, his two most faithful companions, Martha and George, never left his side. In theory, the dogs belonged to the family, but in reality, they were Charlie’s. He had known this almost since he was a baby, and he had no memory of life without his Labrador Retrievers, nor could he imagine being without them.

The Meadow was a perfect place for a boy and his dogs. The rolling West Virginia hills that surrounded The Meadow were a perfect place for the happy trio to run, to play and to explore. Life was a daily adventure for Charlie and his canines, one new experience after another. Every night he went to sleep, Charlie Russell was breathless in anticipation for what the next day would bring.

Read The Meadow and follow Charlie and the pups, as they lived and loved.

CHAPTER 1

MARTHA AND GEORGE

Charlie Russell was in a deep sleep, snuggled under the blankets, a pillow over his head. Charlie’s bed was constantly a mess. It was full of pillows, blankets and comforters of all shapes and sizes, along with a giant quilt Grandma Erma had made him a few years back.

Charlie liked to bury himself under as many blankets as possible, like a deep sea diver submerging below the ocean’s surface. His favorite article on the bed was his grandma’s quilt, because it was the biggest and the warmest.

By Charlie’s side, of course, were his two constant companions, Martha and George. The pair was a bonded set of Labrador Retrievers. George was a yellow Lab, and he was about two.

His older sister was Martha, and she was a six year old black Lab. Martha wasn’t really George’s sibling, but the two were so close that Charlie thought of his dogs as being related.

Charlie had been given the honor of naming Martha, although he wasn’t sure why. He guessed it was because he was the oldest, but his parents never actually explained that to him. As he recalled, Alice, his mom, had whispered to him, Charlie, why don’t you name the puppy? which pleased the boy immensely. Charlie chose Martha as the dog’s name because he had learned about George and Martha Washington in school that year. So naturally when another Lab was adopted a few years later by the family, and this one was a male, George seemed like the only option for the second canine in the family.

George was a powerhouse of a dog, an absolute beast. He was an athlete, a physical specimen for sure. George tipped the scales at more than 100 pounds, and he was full of muscle and brawn. He had a big, full chest, and powerful shoulders. His head was gigantic, and hard as concrete, which Charlie had learned the hard way. George ran with the speed of a meteor, and he jumped as if he were on a trampoline. He was young and full of life.

Martha was a good-sized female, but she almost looked tiny when she stood next to George. She was a full head shorter than her younger buddy, and she weighed about 70 pounds, 30 less than George. Still, Martha would never have been described as a small dog.

Martha was middle-aged, and tiny specks of gray had recently appeared around her chin and just above her eyes, but she was in wonderful health.

The two dogs couldn’t have been more different in temperament. Martha was unbelievably sweet and gentle. She was a real lady, loved by all who knew her. She was patient and submissive. Martha was an intelligent dog. You only had to show her something once or twice, and she knew what to do. Martha was a quiet dog, and only barked if something was really wrong, or if a stranger came on the property.

George was a wild canine. He was a big baby, who didn’t understand his own size and strength. He was terrible on the leash, and walking him was like walking a speeding bus. He pulled on the leash at everything he saw, smelled, or heard. When George became excited, the Russells learned to back up a few feet, because he liked to jump and land on people’s chests, with both enormous paws thudding against the poor victim’s rib cage with a deafening thump.

But he was also tremendously loyal, and sweet like Martha, though not quite as much.

George was a blockhead, and could be stubborn. It seemed to Charlie that Martha was much more intelligent than George could ever be. George could be the most exasperating dog!

Charlie wondered if George would eventually settle down and be more like Martha as he aged.

The dogs followed Charlie everywhere, and they loved to sleep on his bed, George on one side, and Martha on the other. Martha preferred to sleep near Charlie’s chest, and George liked the other side, against Charlie’s back. Many nights Charlie would awaken with both pups pressed against his body. He would stroke each animal for a few minutes, then fall back into a deep slumber, secure in the fact he had the two best dogs on earth.

CHAPTER 2

THE MORNING

Charlie felt a tap on his shoulder.

Wake up, Charlie, it’s time to do your chores, his mom said. Charlie groaned. The Russells were early risers, up before the chickens even, and each day started around 5 a.m.

Charlie hated doing the chores, especially if it was cold out. It was October, and autumn had settled in the West Virginia mountains, which meant it would be cold early in the day. Charlie always noticed it was a few degrees colder in the mountains on the family farm than in it was in town, even though it was only 15 miles away.

Okay, mom, I’m up, Charlie said, and he pulled himself from under his conglomeration of covers.

Charlie didn’t know why, but his mom always got him up first, then she woke his siblings. Maybe it was because he was the oldest; he wasn’t sure. She also went by age, going down the narrow hallway to awaken Patty, then John, and lastly Rose. Charlie was proud to be the oldest child, but sometimes he resented it, because he thought his parents expected more from him than the others. But that’s the way it was; there really was nothing he could do about it.

The Russells were hard workers. Before school each day, the four children were responsible for feeding the goats, chickens, and horses, and helping to set the kitchen table for breakfast, which Alice Russell, the mother of the brood, prepared. At least they didn’t have to milk the cows anymore, since the family had sold their last two heifers the year before. After breakfast, the four children cleaned themselves, brushed their teeth, and changed into their school clothes, before waiting by the gravel road for the school bus.

The children rotated their pre-school chores, and everyone was expected to do his fair share, even little Rose, who was only five. The horses were fed hay and carrots, which were brought into their stalls. Next the goats were tended to, then the chickens, as they clucked and cackled about. Charlie loved all the animals, and so did his dogs. With two horses, two dogs, five goats, two cats and countless chickens, Charlie often thought his house was something of a Noah’s Ark.

Martha was so calm and serene; she probably would have been relaxed among a herd of elephants. She frequently went to the goat’s pen fence, and gently nuzzled the goats from the outside of the circle, one at a time. After spending some time with the goats, Martha would amble over to the horse stalls inside the barn. Martha liked old Buck, the 20 year old gelding, but she adored Sue, the younger mare. Sue was eight or nine years old.

The horses reciprocated Martha’s adoration. Buck’s coat was a deep brown, and he could be temperamental when the mood struck. Every family member knew to always approach Buck from the front, and to speak softly before approaching him. He had once kicked a neighbor from behind, and just had just missed kicking him in the head. But Martha was Buck’s favorite animal, and more than once Charlie found Martha asleep in Buck’s stall. Charlie held the opinion that Martha the Lab calmed old Buck’s nerves a little.

As ornery as Buck could be, the family loved him. He was a part of the group! The mare Sue was the antitheses of Buck. She was a beautiful gray, and substantially smaller than Buck.

When the children went for a horse ride, they rode Sue, not Buck, since Sue was smaller and more loving.

Martha liked all the animals at The Meadow, but Sue was her favorite. Charlie noticed if the two horses were ridden together, Martha always walked beside Sue, not Buck. Martha spent some time with Buck, but much more time with Sue. If Martha wasn’t in the house, she was probably in the horse stalls, moving from one to another. Charlie thought the sight of Martha with her horses was just about the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

For George the giant yellow Lab, every morning on the farm was like Christmas. He charged at the chickens to his heart’s delight, moving from one bird to another, the poor, dumb chickens flapping their wings rapidly, sprinting as fast as their little legs would take them, and jumping as high as they could to avoid their gigantic tormentor. The children delighted in seeing the daily morning show George gave them, although they sometimes felt a little sorry for the chickens. Charlie thought it must have seemed to the dimwitted birds like a tyrannosaurus rex was invading their territory.

As soon as the chores were done, the children, followed by the dogs, would go into the kitchen for breakfast, which they knew Alice would have waiting for them. Before he sat down to eat, Charlie would feed the pups, and the cats, Theresa and Eunice. Watching George eat was akin to looking at a pack of lions devouring a wildebeest. George was so enthusiastic about eating that Charlie had to separate the bowls for the dogs. Martha was a patient eater, nibbling her food and gently and slowly chewing her meal. George ate so quickly and with such force, his metal bowl clanged against the walls.

After he tended to the dogs, Charlie went to feed the cats. His siblings sometimes helped take care of the animals, but mostly it was just Charlie tending to his special friends. And he didn’t mind the responsibility of being the animal’s helper; he was glad to do it. Charlie was so happy to have his pets in his life.

The dogs were always fed first, then the cats. The cats had been in the family longer, and the family had learned when first Martha and then George arrived, it would be a good idea to separate the animals at feeding time, since the dogs had no inhibition about stealing the cats’ food. So while the dogs were fed at the far end of the kitchen, the cats were fed at the end of the hallway, in the tiny bathroom, with the door closed, in order for them to eat in peace.

Breakfast was one of Charlie’s favorite times of day, sort of a reward for having done morning chores. Alice worked at the local art gallery, Decker Unlimited, which didn’t open until nine in the morning, so she had time to prepare a wonderful morning feast. Charlie loved to eat, and the savory smell of the kitchen at breakfast time drove him to distraction. He was a growing boy with a hollow leg; at least that’s what his mother thought.

Alice Russell was a good cook. She always downplayed her abilities in the kitchen, but Charlie loved her cooking. In fact, there was no meal Alice made that Charlie didn’t like. The only thing she put on the table at any meal Charlie couldn’t stand were brussel sprouts, which Alice served often. Charlie thought they smelled bad and tasted even worse, with a strong, rank quality to them.

But breakfast was his mom’s best meal of the day. She owned the oven, and was like a master conductor of a symphony. She moved back and forth while the various foods cooked, with alacrity and deftness. The old black skillet sizzled with bacon and eggs, while hash browns or grits warmed in the other more modern frying pan. Delicacies like French toast or pancakes were held for the weekends, but Charlie wasn’t complaining. He was glad to get the meals he did. Charlie noticed he was always hungry, and wondered if he had a tapeworm or something.

Clayton was the patriarch of the Russells, a giant of a man, standing a few inches north of six feet, and weighing in at about 210 pounds. His commanding presence was felt by all the children, who idolized him and called him Daddy. He was the unquestioned king of The Meadow. Even Alice rarely questioned Clayton, and while the children might sometimes sass their mother, they never did so with their dad.

Clayton was a handsome fellow, just past 40 years old. He had slightly graying temples, and a strong chin. He worked at an office in downtown Clarkville, right behind Main Street, although none of the children knew exactly what their father did, since he never told them anything about his job. When he put on a suit to go to work, he looked like royalty. Clayton was fond of neckties, and he had a knack for putting on just the right one to match his suit.

Although the children weren’t allowed to go into their parent’s bedroom, Charlie had once seen his father’s collection of ties, which numbered at more than 100, with almost every color imaginable.

When the family sat down to a meal, each member had their own assigned seat.

Clayton, the patriarch, sat at the head of the table, while Alice, the matriarch, was on the opposite end. The children filled both sides of the kitchen table, which was an old, oak item, handed