The following two articles were written by Dean Poucher, and published in the Beaufort Gazette..

   The dog has been called  man's best friend for as long as I can remember and one of the most valid examples  I've ever seen of that was the relationship between Jim Haselden and his black  lab retriever, "Trampus." This dog, just a little over one year old, was the best friend a man could have as far as "Uncle Jim" was concerned.  He and Trampus spent many a long pleasant afternoon together in Jim's "Dog House," off just a little way from the main house on Gobbler's Knob, which is a very special section of Lady's Island.  The dog house is Jim's favorite hangout.  Here his desk, easy chair, tv, radio, stove and refrigerator, all go to make life more easy, and there's a telephone there just in case he needs something back in town that Miss Sarah can pick up for him on her way home.

   That dog, Trampus, had more than enough sense to see through a barbed wire fence, (something Jim doesn't usually give me credit for) and has done some things that are downright intelligent.  He carried notes back  to Miss Sarah in the big house when a fresh pack of cigarettes was needed, or a big spoon to stir a pot of collards.  Trampus took the note and delivered the desired item back to Jim just like you would expect your own son to do.

  When Jim took a stroll around the Knob, Trampus was always right there with him, and if some trash needed picking up, Trampus did his share of the clean-up detail and deposited litter in the same bucket where Jim put his.  In a way, a man approaching the octogenarian stage of his life can appreciate a friend like Trampus more than you or I, particularly when sight is failing in a huge, healthy, robust man accustomed to a hearty outdoor life like Jim.

   On the first days of Spring, Jim gets out his hand plow and rips up the ground behind the dog house for his garden, snorting like a bull with sweat glistening on his broad shoulders in the kind of physical exertion that would probably kill men nowadays just half his age.  And that garden grows some of the most delicious vegetables that I've ever tasted, straight from the green thumb of Jim Haselden, the scion of Lady's Island.

   Last week, Trampus disappeared along about 3:30 one afternoon and hasn't been seen since.  I once saw a man jokingly offer Jim $1,500 for the dog and Jim turned him down in all seriousness with one pouting, contemptible scowl.  I haven't seen that look very often, but there's no doubt about what is going through Jim's mind when you do see it, and it's unprintable.

   There's a $100 reward for the return of this beautiful, full-blooded Labrador retriever.  The dog is coal black with big brown eyes and he loves to ride in the car.  On the collar is a phone number.  The area has been searched where he was lost and it must be assumed that someone picked him up.

   Please bring him back and collect the reward, no questions asked.  Surely he must miss Jim, as much as Jim misses him.
January 22, 1970

   The advertisement by Jim Haselden of a $100 reward for the return of his black lab, Trampus, created quite a stir during the past week and resulted in a number of phone calls, all of which turned out to be false alarms.  Trampus was nowhere to be found.

  One very close call resulted in a beautiful black lab being delivered to Gobbler's Knobs that looked just like Trampus, but it wasn't, and since the finder of the dog had no place to keep him, the lab wound up in Jim's dog pen waiting...hopefully for his rightful owner to come and pick him up.

   One Saturday afternoon a bunch of us had gathered at the Knob to "roll a piece of meat."  That is, barbecue a pork loin on a rotisserie, which is a mighty pleasant way to while away an afternoon.

   As the sun dipped lower and lower behind the trees, a cold wind sighed through the leafless poplars out at the dog house where we had gathered around the heater.  A car drove up and out in the real dog pen, that lab started tearing the roof off and quite suddenly there was a reunion of dog and owner.  A captain from Parris Island had lost his dog back around Christmas and there was no question but that the dog delivered to Jim was indeed, the captain's  lost dog.

   They drove off together, practically arm in arm, and another long silence fell, broken only by the whine of the rotisserie outside, as the meat turned over the charcoal.  Miss Sarah had gone to the kitchen to get something and on her way back, suddenly, out of nowhere, there was Trampus, limping across the yard to meet her, and pandemonium broke loose.

   Jim's ads had said that the hundred dollars would be given for the return of the dog with no questions asked.  There were lots of questions asked Trampus as he took his rightful place beside Uncle Jim's chair and laid his head in his lap with those big, brown eyes looking happily around the room, but Trampus didn't say a thing.  He just snuggled closer to Jim and looked mighty happy to be home.

   There could have been just a speck of dust in Jim's eye as he patted old Trampus on the head, but that didn't matter.  There was a mighty happy bunch of folks who sat down to dinner that night.  Happy for Uncle Jim, who had mourned the loss of his dog so much, and probably equally happy that Trampus had come home.  No questions asked.
January  29, 1970.
 

   This true story took place in Beaufort, South Carolina.  It turns out that Trampus had been taking a run in the marsh by our farm, near the causeway  to St. Helena's Island.  It is believed that he was hit by a car, and left to die on the side of the road in a ditch.
   Trampus' love for Uncle Jim and Miss Sarah sustained him, as he dragged his injured body slowly home, with no food, and possibly only rain water to drink. .  It took over a week.  The vet had to perform surgery on Trampus and he had a pin put in one hip.

Compiled by their daughter, Lynn Haselden Boccia, August 11, 1998

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