Andy didn't admit that he had done that very thing more than once. He especially liked to call the Swartz boys Schwatzbaert (blackbeards, pirates).
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"But, Dad, they hurt Shep, and he can't protect himself."
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"Ach, I suspect he can. Come on, I'll take a look at that leg."
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Andy followed his father out to the edge of the walk where Shep lay. The dog wanted to come up on the porch, but he knew that was off limits for him.
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Many times Lizzie or one of the girls had chased him off the porch with the broom. They never hit Shep, just shooed him away.
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"He tracks too much mud," Lizzie told Andy.
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"But, Mom, he likes to be where it's warm," her son protested.
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"The barn, buggy shed, workshop, and toolshed are warmer than the open porch. Shep can go there for shelter."
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Jake examined Shep's leg. He saw how the dog favored the right front one.
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"There's a small knot here." Jake pointed to a spot the size of a quarter. "It's just a bruise and should heal quickly."
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"Just a bruise!" Andy shouted, his face turning beet red. "If I catch those Swartz boys, I'll give them a bruise!"
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"Genunk (enough)!" Jake declared.
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"Andy, you remember you asked me a few weeks ago if you could build a doghouse for Shep? Well, I'll make an agreement with you. If you'll try to control that temper, I'll give you permission to build one.
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