Puppy Love

My dog is cheating on me.  He begs to go out then only stands in the drive and looks longingly at the neighbor’s house.  I do believe, if I allowed it, he’d  howl a serenade under the lady’s window.  A few times, she’s stopped to visit and pet him.  You’d think think she’d invited him into her life.  Puffing out his chest,  he peed impressively, then kicked up a huge cloud of dust. to show what a mighty fellow he is.  In all honesty, his bladder capacity is astounding since he’s a mastiff, but I don’t think it makes her want him more., nor does his habit of making a beeline to sniff her nether portions.

Worse yet, if he gets more than twenty feet ahead of me, he goes stone deaf.  Buzzy, my other dog, suffers the same malady.  Though we have a two-acre yard with plenty of poop room, they are both desperate to leave surprises for the neighbors.  Early on, I made sure they knew the perimeter of our yard.  Since then, they’ve both try not to go inside its boundaries.  If they got their heart’s desire, we’d be surrounded by a poop fence on all four sides ten feet just outside our property lines.  Buzzy’s deposits are offensive enough, but Croc’s leavings are mountainous.and would soon obscure the view if left to lie.  We’d be run out of the neighborhood if they got their wish.

Advertisements

Accounting

Bud is fussy about his budget.  He does a computer check on the bank account every morning.  Our big dog, Croc eats a lot.  That goes in the budget.  What goes in must come out, so he poops a lot.  Bud also likes to work that not the budget.  “Croc pooped about a dollar’s worth.”

I’m glad I’m not in charge of accounting!”

Hair of the Dog Sweater

This is the prequal to yesterday’s post about dog sweaters.  I decided it might go nicely today.

My son John lives to torment my mother. Buzzy, our American Eskimo Dog sheds incessantly, making us vacuum every day to stay ahead of him. One day my husband Bud noticed a big paper bag on the mantle stuffed full of Buzzy’s combings, hair pulled from his brush, and hair swept from the floor. Amazed, Bud asked, “What in the world is this bag of dog hair doing up here?”

Mother chimed in, “Oh, that’s Buzzy’s hair I saved up for your sweater.” This was the first Bud had heard of his dog hair sweater. He thought maybe Mother had finally come unhinged. “What dog hair sweater?”

“The one you’re going to get the woman at work to make for you out of Buzzy’s hair.” Mother thought Bud was losing it. “John told me to be careful to gather up all the hair I could find every time I came over so that woman you work with can spin it and make it into a sweater for you. How long do you think it will take to get enough?”

Poor Bud had to break her heart. “John’s been pulling your leg, again. There ain’t gonna be no dog hair sweater.”

 

 

My son, John

John as Jason

 

A Hog a Day Part 3

Miss Becky cleared away breakfast and remarked, “Well, setting here drinking coffee ain’t gittin my permanent put in.  If you’re still a’mind to do it, we better git started.”  Pouring a kettle of hot water over the dishes, she set another big pot on the stove to heat.  They got their water from a well, not a faucet, so I followed her out to refill the water bucket.  The well fascinated me, enclosed in a covered timber structure.  A bucket hung on a rope suspended from a pulley.  Miss Bessie turned the cover back and allowed the bucket to drop.  After a few minutes, a heard a splash.

“Can I look?” I asked.

“No, it’s too dangerous.  There’s a boogerman in the well!”  She warned.

At five, of course I knew there wasn’t a boogerman in the well, but also had learned long ago not to sass. Mother had foolishly assured me earlier there was no boogerman, a serious error on her part.  I’d have  probably been a lot better kid had she invoked  him periodically.  Maybe Daddy would hold me up and let me look down the well when he got back.  That wasn’t the kind of thing I’d even bother to ask Mother.  She was always trying to prevent any kind of fun.  I gave some thought to trying to look on my own, but feared falling in and somehow being rescued.  Daddy would warm my britches, good.  What I really wanted to do was get in the bucket and let myself down by working the rope hand over hand.  I’d seen a well dug and that’s how the men had gotten up and down, of course, that was before the water seeped in.  I’d have to think some about how this could be managed without discovery.

I thought about this as I followed Miss Bessie back to the kitchen with her bucket of water sloshing out on either side as she walked.  Mother had the home permanent ready to go by the time we got back in.  Home permanents were the hairstyle of choice for budget-conscious women of the fifties who were brave and not too fussy.    Women frequently cut and permed each other’s hair.   Mother was not a talented amateur.  She hated fooling with hair, but Daddy had volunteered her for the job.  He was good at that.  Her time and energy belonged to him and made him look good.  Miss Bessie wrapped a towel around her shoulders and settled in a straight back chair on the porch.

Mother got straight to work, cutting and perming as she went.  Dividing Miss Bessie’s hair into sections, she measured it, wet it with a comb dipped in water, wrapped it in a little folded-up square of white paper,  measured it against a mark, and snipped off every thing sticking out past the end of the curling paper.  Afterward, she twisted the paper-wrapped hair around a hard plastic spiky permanent curler, and twisted it tightly to the scalp.  I’d been subjected to this misery a few times, so was glad to escape outdoors.  I wanted no part of the home permanent process.  It was painful, smelled horrible, and made me look like a Brillo Pad.

Billy and I played in the cool, white sand under the high porch.  The dogs had thoughtfully dug  large holes to make the landscape more interesting where we marked out roads with chips of wood.  We stood up small branches to serve as trees.  Rocks made fine pretend houses.  From time to time a lazy hound pushed its way into one of the holes as we played around him.  Billy stretched out and took a nap across one of the hounds.  Bored with Billy sleeping, the conversation from the porch above caught my attention.

“Miss Bessie, how many kids do you have?”  Mother asked.  I couldn’t make sense of that.  In my mind, once people got grown, they had no parents.  Miss Bessie was as old as my Grandma.  Mother claimed Grandma was her mother, but it didn’t make sense to me. If Grandma was her mother, how come I’d never seen her spank Mother? Besides, if Grandma was her mama, why didn’t she live with her?  Why didn’t she sit on her lap?  I just let it go.

“I had them five big ol’ boys right off.”  Miss Bessie said.  “Seems like every time Grady hung his britches on the bedpost another one come along. It plumb wore me out.  If his mama had’na been staying with us I don’t know how I’d made it.  I had to help Grady in the field.  She couldn’t see well enough to do much, but she could rock young’uns and string beans.  All three of my oldest squalled till the next’un was born.  I thought I was done, then ten years later two little gals come along ten months apart.  Ruth Ann done fine, but I lost Susie early on.   She nursed good but never keep nothing down.  Grady got a goat but she never did put on no weight.  It ‘bout killed Grady to lose her.  I thought I might lose him.

I pricked up my ears at this.  Miss Bessie lost her little girl!  She must have been mighty careless. I wondered if I might be able to find her.  Maybe she hadn’t gotten too far.  Old people ought not to be having babies.  Miss Bessie looked like she moved way too slow to keep up with a little kid.  I thought I’d just look around a little.  I crawled out from under the porch and dusted off my knees.

”Don’t you run off and get lost,”. Mother bossed. “I’m fixing to put the stuff on Miss Bessie’s hair and I don’t want to have to go looking for you and burn her hair up.  Where’s Billy”

”He’s sleeping on the dog.” I informed her.

At that, she had to go check.  “Well, you stay right here where I can see you.  Don’t go messing around that well.”

”Yes, Ma’am.  I’m just going to look for Miss Bessie’s baby.”

”What?” Mother said.  She seemed to have totally forgotten about that lost baby.  Miss Bessie didn’t look too worried either.

 

Conquering Corwin end Mother’s Bad Attitude Part 2

image . . Aunt Essie got her nose out of joint when her little guys came home bringing tales of how badly Uncle Bill had treated them, so he didn’t hear

was Qan affable enough guy. Q, though he must not have taken time to meet the boys before they married. He’d also married before and “wadn’ payin’ no child support. to that Q. Qwoman after the . w. ay she done me. Besides oldest ‘un never did look , that little https://. . / 2016/12/15/. / neither, if you git down to it.”

The long and short of it was, they needed to get the heck out of Dodge or her sweetie would have gone to jail. Like any landed gentleman of the South, Daddy had always maintained he’d a place for any of his sisters who fell on hard times. Desperately in need of a home, She magnanimously forgave. Daddy. Over Mother’s furious objections, he set up a mobile home on their farm for Aunt Essie and her family. The situation went downhill fast. Aunt Essie wore her slippers to check the mail and slid down. She asked Daddy for the name of a good lawyer so she could sue. He told her she’d have to move if she sued him, so she changed her mind. Her Bill had a heart attack within a month of the time they moved there. He never worked another day, leaving them penniless until his social security kicked in. Guess who supported them.  The good news was, he’d gotten an increase to his check when he and Aunt Essie got married, since he could lead claim her boys.  The bad news was, he had better things to spend it on than groceries and rent.

All that aside, they had the added joy of daily life with Corwin. Corwin quickly dropped out of school, a reasonable decision, since the only thing he was getting out of it was a bus ride and two free meals a day. When he got suspended for harassing little girls, it was a relief to everyone in the system. Bill and Aunt Essie went somewhere in Aunt Essie’s car one day. Wisely, Bill took his keys, knowing Corwin would certainly take off in his truck the minute he left. One of Daddy’s horses had died three or four days before. As farmers do, instead of burying it, he hitched the dead horse to his tractor and dragged it as far to the back of his place as he could, leaving it to the varmints. Corwin had been puzzling over whether or not the varmints had gotten to the horse carcass yet. Corwin showed some industry in hot-wiring the pick-up, but not in driving in the muddy fields. He got stuck and had to leave the truck buried up to the hubs next to the bloated horse. Bill was livid when he came in and found his truck missing. “Where in the Hell is my G—D—- Truck?”

“Stuck in the mud on the back of Uncle Bill’s place.”

“What in the Hell is it doing back there?”

“I drove it back there to see if see if that dead horse was stinkin’ yet.”

“Well, what in the Hell were you gonna’ do about it if it was?”

Aunt Essie had an infuriating little ankle-biting dog named Susie she kept in the house with her.  It yapped incessantly and snarled at anyone who got near Aunt Essie.  Mother and Daddy had never had a dog in the house, so Mother complained about Aunt Essie’s dog. “Let it go,” Daddy insisted.

The next weekend, Bill and Essie went out of town.  Aunt Essie wanted Mother to keep Susie, but Mother declined, not wanting a dog in her house.  It worked out fine.  Unbeknownst to Mother and Daddy, Aunt Essie left Susie alone.  Susie did a lot of house peeing, pooping, and wall-scratching scratching over the next four or five days locked up in the trailer.  Apparently the abandonment upset the poor dog’s digestion. The place smelled like a charnel house by the time they got back.

Not too long after this, Corwin and Kelvin were found to be growing a lucrative crop of marijuana on Daddy’s place.  Mother was infuriated and reported them.  They were arrested.  Aunt Essie got her nose out of joint about the arrest and moved off in a huff.    It’s a shame when families can’t get along.

BUY my book: https://www.amazon.com/Everything-Smells-Just-Like-Salad-ebook/dp/B01IVUXROQ

How to connect with Linda

Blog: https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/bethea_linda

image

Bird Dog

I was greeted by the desperate fluttering of a bird trapped in my fireplace this morning.  Shutting the doors to adjacent rooms, I went for a flashlight and dish towel before opening the fireplace doors.  Fortunately, he was blinded and clung fearfully to the bricks when I shone the light on him.  I was so relieved he easily disengaged from the wall when I grasped him with the dish towel.  My heart soared as he winged his way to freedom like so many others I’ve released from my chimney trap.  I was reminded of another bird experience.

Annie, our Dalmatian dog once alerted me to a bird on the fireplace.  That time it didn’t go so smoothly, since I hadn’t yet learned to shine the light on the bird to confuse it.  The bird escaped into the living room.  It took me a few attempts before I caught and released it.  During the melee, Annie bonded with the poor, terrified bird.  She clearly enjoyed seeing its return to safety.  Lest you think a lot of kind thoughts about Annie, I need to let you know, that’s the only non-despicable she ever did.  She was sweet about the bird.

The next day, I went to visit my sister.  Marilyn had just gotten a bird.  That poor bird must have thought it had gone to Hell.  Marilyn’s cat  had his hissing face pressed into the cage with his front paws clutching the cage in a death grip.  The traumatized bird had backed as far away  as the cage would allow.  Marilyn was tired of pulling the cat off the bird’s cage, so when she offered me the bird, I took it.  The weather was fine, so the bird stayed on the patio for the rest of our visit with the disappointed cat’s nose pressed against the glass the whole time.

Annie assumed ownership of the bird, greeting it every time she walked by and napping by its cage.  The bird enjoyed her company chattering merrily when Annie greeted it. They were friends for several years until the bird’s death.  It was a heartwarming friendship.

 

Fido Buys the Farm

Joe found his dog lying out behind his car, not moving.  He grabbed Fido up and ran him in to the vet.

Vet:  “”I’m sorry.  Your dog is dead.  That’ll be fifty bucks.”

Joe:  “No, he can’t be!”  He threw Fido in the car and drove a few miles to see Vet #2.  This one put him up on the exam table, checked him over good then brought a Labrador Retriever Into the room.  The Lab sniffed Fido, poked him with his foot, but Fido didn’t respond.  Next the vet brought a cat in and waved him over Fido.

Vet#2:  “Sorry, your dog’s dead, alright.  That’ll be three-hundred and fifty dollars.”

Joe:  “Now hold on.  The other vet only charged me fifty dollars!”

Vet #2:  “Yeah, but I did a Lab test and Cat scan!”