Pup showed up at our house circa 1973. I don't think we ever learned where he came from, but the going theory was always that my great uncle Doug Ford dropped him off. Pup was a reddish, longer-haired dog, possibly a Border Collie mix (as best I remember). I don't know why he took to us kids like he did, because I used to do stuff like trying to cut his hair with lopper shears (as long ago as that was, I have a fleeting memory of that).
The rest of this story is from stories that have been told and re-told through time and may, or may not, be the whole truth, but it is the truth as I know it.
Pup took it as his personal mission to protect Kellie and I. When Kellie was a toddler, and I was still a babe, Mom used to let Kellie out in the yard when she hung the laundry on the line in the back yard. Pup would keep watch over Kellie and if she started toward the road, pup would run in front of her and trip her, so she couldn't wander into danger.
He would also actively protect us. Back then, Dad was a gear head and shade tree mechanic, and Eddie Wayne would come up and help him work on whatever project was in the driveway. One night, they were out there working on a car and we were in the front yard playing. Eddie Wayne walked toward us, for whatever innocent reason, and Pup, sensing a potential threat, bit him. Eddie Wayne threw the timing chain he had in his hand at Pup. Dad told Eddie Wayne that he'd go get a shotgun so he could kill Pup (an eye for an eye, so to speak, as would be expected), but Eddie Wayne said no, he was just trying to protect the kids.
There was a man in the community at the time that was mentally challenged. I don't know what his condition was, but he used to ride his bike up and down Egypt Road. (it wasn't Glen, these folks lived up near the Adams) One day, he threw the chain, or some similar bike trouble, and got off and started pushing his bike. He was on the side of the road next to our house and Pup perceived that he was coming toward Kellie and I, so he (you guessed it) bit the poor guy. As I remember it, Mom and Dad put him in their car and took him home, apologized profusely, and offered to pay his doctor's bill. His mom and dad understood and said everything was forgiven, and they'd take care of their son.
Some years later (when Pup was very old), we got a phone call, rather early early in the morning. It seems that Pup was asleep in the road, and someone ran over him. The person recognized Pup and knew he belonged to us and called to tell us what happened.
If this story was repeated today, my parents would be destitute from the law suits, and there would be a campaign to outlaw border collie mutts. However, back when people still had common sense, they recognized that sometimes bad things happen due to unfortunate circumstances. Everyone involved recognized that Pup was only trying to protect "his" kids, and they, unfortunately, appeared to be a threat.
Sometimes, life just sucks like that and any attempt to place blame is either futile, or a dishonorable attempt to take advantage of others.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Way back in the day - a Beagle named Penny
Christy Chavies Tripp posted something on Facebook tonight that made me think of this.... Waaay back in the day, maybe 1976ish(?), we had a female beagle named Penny. I don't remember where she came from, probably a neighbor. She was mostly white with black spots. Well, as those "female dogs" will do, Penny got knocked up. One night she went up under the shed behind the well house (which is right behind the house) and had eight puppies - eight!
With eight puppies running around, you couldn't hardly step out the door without stepping into a "pile". I mean, it was like trying to cross the Korea DMZ without stepping on a land mine. Mom even tried putting sandwich bags over our little shoes to keep us from getting poo ground into our shoe soles and tracking it into the house.
We had a real problem on our hands. We had the only dog we needed. We we certainly didn't need eight more beagles. We gave every neighbor a puppy who would take one, but we still had a bunch that needed homes.
At that time, John Green still ran the little store up at the intersection of what is now Egypt Road and Hampton Mountain Road. There were three or four boys who would walk by our house every couple of days, on their way to Green's store. They lived somewhere on HWY 179, over a mile from the store, but back then, you could (and would) still walk that far to the store to buy a coke and some peanuts to put in it. Every time they came by our house on their way home, they'd come up in our yard and pet the puppies, and they'd end up taking at least one home. I think they ended up with at least five beagle pups.
When they took the last pup, Mom convinced them to take Penny too (because she was a walking time bomb of beagle puppies). She even drove them home, because we had no use for leashes and didn't have one, and Penny was too heavy to carry all that way.
That didn't last. A few days later, Penny came running up into the yard. I still don't know if those boys' parents brought her back and dropped her off close to the house (It's like hot potato, the one that owns the bomb when it goes off owns the pups), or if she found her way home.
Christy's Facebook thing was about kids of the 50's - 80's and how our childhoods were decidedly different from the modern kids. I think this story is a perfect example. Here we have kids walking well over a mile, alone, just to go to the store (just to go); people giving dogs away (check out a pet store today and price a beagle pup), and without some kind of application, background check, and home visit; kids walking up into a strangers yard (and strangers letting them) without fear of a lawsuit for some reason; and kids getting into cars with strangers, and yet we all lived and are none the worse for wear.
I have no idea who those boys were, or what they are doing now, but I can only imagine that they are like me, trying to raise their own kids, the best we can, the realities of modern life not withstanding.
With eight puppies running around, you couldn't hardly step out the door without stepping into a "pile". I mean, it was like trying to cross the Korea DMZ without stepping on a land mine. Mom even tried putting sandwich bags over our little shoes to keep us from getting poo ground into our shoe soles and tracking it into the house.
We had a real problem on our hands. We had the only dog we needed. We we certainly didn't need eight more beagles. We gave every neighbor a puppy who would take one, but we still had a bunch that needed homes.
At that time, John Green still ran the little store up at the intersection of what is now Egypt Road and Hampton Mountain Road. There were three or four boys who would walk by our house every couple of days, on their way to Green's store. They lived somewhere on HWY 179, over a mile from the store, but back then, you could (and would) still walk that far to the store to buy a coke and some peanuts to put in it. Every time they came by our house on their way home, they'd come up in our yard and pet the puppies, and they'd end up taking at least one home. I think they ended up with at least five beagle pups.
When they took the last pup, Mom convinced them to take Penny too (because she was a walking time bomb of beagle puppies). She even drove them home, because we had no use for leashes and didn't have one, and Penny was too heavy to carry all that way.
That didn't last. A few days later, Penny came running up into the yard. I still don't know if those boys' parents brought her back and dropped her off close to the house (It's like hot potato, the one that owns the bomb when it goes off owns the pups), or if she found her way home.
Christy's Facebook thing was about kids of the 50's - 80's and how our childhoods were decidedly different from the modern kids. I think this story is a perfect example. Here we have kids walking well over a mile, alone, just to go to the store (just to go); people giving dogs away (check out a pet store today and price a beagle pup), and without some kind of application, background check, and home visit; kids walking up into a strangers yard (and strangers letting them) without fear of a lawsuit for some reason; and kids getting into cars with strangers, and yet we all lived and are none the worse for wear.
I have no idea who those boys were, or what they are doing now, but I can only imagine that they are like me, trying to raise their own kids, the best we can, the realities of modern life not withstanding.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Why I LOVE Duck Dynasty
If you are reading this, you are probably a friend of mine. If you're a friend of mine, you probably watch Duck Dynasty, or have at least seen it. In case you haven't, it is a "reality" show on A&E about the Robertson family that started and still runs the Duck Commander company. They specialize in making some (rather high end) duck calls. Although they are stinkin' rich, they are still very "red neck". Just like all "reality" shows, there is a lot of staging and scripting (if you don't believe me, watch the Clint Bowyer episode), but I must believe the heart of the show is really the heart of the Robertson family.
What I love:
First, the characters. I think we all know someone like one of the Duck Commander family. You can't script those personalities! I can identify with them - even crazy Uncle Si. Who doesn't have a mother, grandmother, or aunt like Miss Kay?
Second, they play with guns. I don't mean "play" in a derogatory sense. I mean they use guns for sport and have fun with them in line with their intended purpose - like when Phil and Si were shooting golf balls that Jase and Willie were hitting off tees, or when Phil had the little girls trying to shoot duck decoys with their BB Guns from their playhouse "duck blind". Despite all that gun play, no one is hurt, or ever feels threatened by a gun. Guns are useful and fun, and a perfectly normal feature in a family setting.
Third, they hunt and fish. They kill things, and they clean them and eat them. There is no shying away from killing or the messiness that comes from killing your own food. On the other hand, they don't kill just to kill. Everything has a purpose.
Finally, this is one of the few (possibly only) "reality" shows that has values. I say the show has values because every episode is permeated with family values. The family participated in a Christmas program at their church, Phil is constantly working to teach the next generation his values, and in the end of every conflict, family wins out. Put on top of that, every show ends with the extended family gathered around the table together for supper, and they always join in prayer. No other show on TV would be so bold (and its a shame that I consider that bold).
If you've never seen it, re-runs are on every Wednesday and new episodes are on Fridays on A&E.
*Disclaimer - none of the pictures belong to me. They were on the internet and assumed to be public domain for non-profit use.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Comedy Gold
The kids were on fire at the supper table tonight, giving quote after quote that made me hide my face behind my napkin, almost crying from laughter.
We had Digiorno's "freezer pizza" for supper tonight. We had a left over Papa John's dipping sauce, which Joseph will literally drink, so Jeni warmed it up in a microwave proof sauce cup and let Joseph have it. I asked him if I could have some and he said yes and then kept telling me to "dip your pizza Daddy" while I tried to explain that I only dip the crust and I hadn't eaten all the way up there yet. When I did start dipping, he only let me have about 3 or 4 dips and I guess he thought I'd had enough. He, very demonstratively, picked up the cup and moved it to the other side of his plate (away from me) and said, "That's enough Daddy!"
I'm currently taking a class I need in order to be certified for my next job, at the Defense Acquisition University (DAU) (a high falutin' name for an institution that issues no degrees). Making kid friendly conversation, Jeni said, "Daddy, what did you do at school today?" Janelle piped right in and said, "Daddy, what did you have for snack?!", echoing what I often ask her about her day at "school".
They will probably go to Tyson's Galleria to see Santa tomorrow, because there is no line on weekdays, so I asked Joseph what he was going to ask Santa for. He said, "an Army truck!". I haven't heard that before, so I asked, "an Army truck?" Joseph gave me a perfect Pentagon salute, you know, shoulder shrug, elbows bent, and palms up, "I don't have an ARMY truck Daddy. I'm going to ask for an Army truck."
Then Janelle asked Jeni what she wanted. Jeni told her she wanted a vegetable peeler (something simple the kids could "get" her). Janelle asked what else. Jeni said maybe a rubber whisk. Janelle asked what else and Jeni said, "I'll make you a little list", to which Janelle replied, "but Mommy, I can't read!"
Finally, Joseph announced, "I need to go potty." Jeni said, OK, go potty. Janelle, never one to be left out, announced, "I need to go potty too", and took off for the bathroom. Joseph said, "I'll go upstairs to potty". Janelle announced from the bathroom, "You can go here when I get done!" Joseph said, "OK, I'll wait right here, on my truck." (sitting on his ride-on fire truck)
You can't make this stuff up. I can't express their vocalizations in type, so maybe you had to be there, but I could have sold tickets to dinner at the Ford house tonight.
We had Digiorno's "freezer pizza" for supper tonight. We had a left over Papa John's dipping sauce, which Joseph will literally drink, so Jeni warmed it up in a microwave proof sauce cup and let Joseph have it. I asked him if I could have some and he said yes and then kept telling me to "dip your pizza Daddy" while I tried to explain that I only dip the crust and I hadn't eaten all the way up there yet. When I did start dipping, he only let me have about 3 or 4 dips and I guess he thought I'd had enough. He, very demonstratively, picked up the cup and moved it to the other side of his plate (away from me) and said, "That's enough Daddy!"
I'm currently taking a class I need in order to be certified for my next job, at the Defense Acquisition University (DAU) (a high falutin' name for an institution that issues no degrees). Making kid friendly conversation, Jeni said, "Daddy, what did you do at school today?" Janelle piped right in and said, "Daddy, what did you have for snack?!", echoing what I often ask her about her day at "school".
They will probably go to Tyson's Galleria to see Santa tomorrow, because there is no line on weekdays, so I asked Joseph what he was going to ask Santa for. He said, "an Army truck!". I haven't heard that before, so I asked, "an Army truck?" Joseph gave me a perfect Pentagon salute, you know, shoulder shrug, elbows bent, and palms up, "I don't have an ARMY truck Daddy. I'm going to ask for an Army truck."
Then Janelle asked Jeni what she wanted. Jeni told her she wanted a vegetable peeler (something simple the kids could "get" her). Janelle asked what else. Jeni said maybe a rubber whisk. Janelle asked what else and Jeni said, "I'll make you a little list", to which Janelle replied, "but Mommy, I can't read!"
Finally, Joseph announced, "I need to go potty." Jeni said, OK, go potty. Janelle, never one to be left out, announced, "I need to go potty too", and took off for the bathroom. Joseph said, "I'll go upstairs to potty". Janelle announced from the bathroom, "You can go here when I get done!" Joseph said, "OK, I'll wait right here, on my truck." (sitting on his ride-on fire truck)
You can't make this stuff up. I can't express their vocalizations in type, so maybe you had to be there, but I could have sold tickets to dinner at the Ford house tonight.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Boys Afternoon
Mommy and Janelle went to a "Princess" birthday party this afternoon, so I cross loaded Joseph's car seat into my truck and we set out to have a boy's afternoon out. Joseph loves to ride in my truck, he says he want's one like it when he's big, but he doesn't get to do it much. Our first mission was to get me a haircut. Joseph loves to go to the barber shop and he wanted a cut, too, but he really didn't need one.
The barber shop was really crowded but we found two seats and sat down. As an irrelevant aside, I go to a Vietnamese barbershop (every soldier knows the Korean barbershops outside the gate). It is a really modern shop and they have a fish tank and a little area with some kids chairs and a little table and a bin of toys for the kids. The barbers have names like Qui, Luke, Andy, Hung, and Jennifer.
When we got there, Joseph and I sat down and looked at some car magazines until it was my turn. When I got called, I told Joseph he could go sit in the little chairs and look at the fish or play with toys. He was such a little man. He went over and got a little chair and turned it around and looked at the fish tank. At some point, Jennifer (the barber), was sweeping up hair, and Joseph turned his chair square around, so he was facing the barber chairs and Jennifer. This caught her a bit off guard and she said, "Hello there". He didn't throw the toys about or cause any kind of fuss. He just sat there and waited for me to get through. When I got done, my barber (the young lady who is a George Mason Pharmacy grad who cuts hair on Sunday) asked me if she could give him a sucker. Needless to say, I was very proud of him.
After the barber shop, we went to CostCo. I told Joseph that he would have to stay very close to me, because CostCo is crazy crowded, and he did the best he could. After a while in CostCo, I put Joseph on my shoulders and was playing a little game with him... lean this way, "don't fall"... lean that way, " don't fall". After a while, my shoulders were getting tired, so I asked him if he'd like to get down.... silence.... "Joseph, do you want to get down?".... silence. "Joseph, I can't see you nodding your head, you need to talk". He leaned over, right next to my head and nodded, so I let him down.
After CostCo, we went to the Giant grocery store to get some juice for the kids. We got two each one quart bottles of juice and Joseph wanted to carry one. It was a handful for him and he hugged it up against his body, "holding it with two hands, daddy". We went by the floral section and Joseph wanted to smell the flowers. They had some really expensive Orchids and Joseph went over and smelled and asked all kinds of questions. "What is this?" "That's a bud, son, a little flower that hasn't opened up yet." "Daddy, what's that yellow thing in the flower?" "I don't know, son, it's just part of the flower. Don't touch it, that's a very expensive flower if you break it" Then he carried his bottle up to the self check and we paid out and went to the truck.
There was a moped one park over and in front of us. A guy got on it and rode off. Joseph said, "Look daddy, he's on a motorcycle." I said, "Well that's not really a motorcycle, that's more like a scooter." Joseph said, matter-of-factually, "Scooters are pink, that's a motorcycle".
While we were out driving, Joseph was asking questions and learned all kind of things. He learned what blinkers are and what hazard flashers are. I tried to explain what that "big lever" in the floor does, and what the "little lever" (4 WD shifter) does and why the "clocks" on the dash (the speedo and tach) go up when we leave a red light. I told him about engines and when we got home, I had to pop the hood and show him the truck's engine. He told me he wants a "motor like that when I get big".
After we got home, he wanted to ride his bike. He has a little-bitty Diego bike with training wheels that he rides like a little demon. His only problem is that he tends to turn it too sharply and tips it over, but he usually gets up and dusts his hands off and gets back on. When he's sitting still, and is trying to get it going, he kind of hops on it to get some momentum going forward, but also spins the rear wheel. Once, this afternoon, he hopped, his petals spun really fast, and he banged his knee on the handle bars. He really wanted to cry, but I told him "If you're going to ride a bike, its going to happen. Keep riding. Pedal it off. It will quit hurting. Go". After he got going, it was all forgotten.
I really enjoy the one on one time with the kids. Together, they are hell on wheels, and can be unbearable at times, but when there is only one, we make serious quality time together. I love that.
The barber shop was really crowded but we found two seats and sat down. As an irrelevant aside, I go to a Vietnamese barbershop (every soldier knows the Korean barbershops outside the gate). It is a really modern shop and they have a fish tank and a little area with some kids chairs and a little table and a bin of toys for the kids. The barbers have names like Qui, Luke, Andy, Hung, and Jennifer.
When we got there, Joseph and I sat down and looked at some car magazines until it was my turn. When I got called, I told Joseph he could go sit in the little chairs and look at the fish or play with toys. He was such a little man. He went over and got a little chair and turned it around and looked at the fish tank. At some point, Jennifer (the barber), was sweeping up hair, and Joseph turned his chair square around, so he was facing the barber chairs and Jennifer. This caught her a bit off guard and she said, "Hello there". He didn't throw the toys about or cause any kind of fuss. He just sat there and waited for me to get through. When I got done, my barber (the young lady who is a George Mason Pharmacy grad who cuts hair on Sunday) asked me if she could give him a sucker. Needless to say, I was very proud of him.
After the barber shop, we went to CostCo. I told Joseph that he would have to stay very close to me, because CostCo is crazy crowded, and he did the best he could. After a while in CostCo, I put Joseph on my shoulders and was playing a little game with him... lean this way, "don't fall"... lean that way, " don't fall". After a while, my shoulders were getting tired, so I asked him if he'd like to get down.... silence.... "Joseph, do you want to get down?".... silence. "Joseph, I can't see you nodding your head, you need to talk". He leaned over, right next to my head and nodded, so I let him down.
After CostCo, we went to the Giant grocery store to get some juice for the kids. We got two each one quart bottles of juice and Joseph wanted to carry one. It was a handful for him and he hugged it up against his body, "holding it with two hands, daddy". We went by the floral section and Joseph wanted to smell the flowers. They had some really expensive Orchids and Joseph went over and smelled and asked all kinds of questions. "What is this?" "That's a bud, son, a little flower that hasn't opened up yet." "Daddy, what's that yellow thing in the flower?" "I don't know, son, it's just part of the flower. Don't touch it, that's a very expensive flower if you break it" Then he carried his bottle up to the self check and we paid out and went to the truck.
There was a moped one park over and in front of us. A guy got on it and rode off. Joseph said, "Look daddy, he's on a motorcycle." I said, "Well that's not really a motorcycle, that's more like a scooter." Joseph said, matter-of-factually, "Scooters are pink, that's a motorcycle".
While we were out driving, Joseph was asking questions and learned all kind of things. He learned what blinkers are and what hazard flashers are. I tried to explain what that "big lever" in the floor does, and what the "little lever" (4 WD shifter) does and why the "clocks" on the dash (the speedo and tach) go up when we leave a red light. I told him about engines and when we got home, I had to pop the hood and show him the truck's engine. He told me he wants a "motor like that when I get big".
After we got home, he wanted to ride his bike. He has a little-bitty Diego bike with training wheels that he rides like a little demon. His only problem is that he tends to turn it too sharply and tips it over, but he usually gets up and dusts his hands off and gets back on. When he's sitting still, and is trying to get it going, he kind of hops on it to get some momentum going forward, but also spins the rear wheel. Once, this afternoon, he hopped, his petals spun really fast, and he banged his knee on the handle bars. He really wanted to cry, but I told him "If you're going to ride a bike, its going to happen. Keep riding. Pedal it off. It will quit hurting. Go". After he got going, it was all forgotten.
I really enjoy the one on one time with the kids. Together, they are hell on wheels, and can be unbearable at times, but when there is only one, we make serious quality time together. I love that.
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