I remember my families first dog, Bingo. She was a mixed breed, dad always said she had a lot of Feist in her. Is that a breed of dog? She was white short haired and very cuddly.
On one move to a new pastorate, I had not wanted to move and leave my friends. I pouted and tried to make everyone’s life as miserable as I could. Mama and Daddy went to visit Dad’s sister, Anna Mae. Anna Mae was such a cut up, she also had a son named Jackie, same as mine.
Anyway Anna Mae gave me the best present I ever had, a Black Cocker Spaniel, I named Ace. Ace and I were inseparable. Even when I was in church (which seemed to me 5 days a week LOL), Ace would lie at the side door with his head in the church.
Ace loved chickens and chased too many, I heard Mr. Brinkley who raised his chickens in his lumber yard, put some poison out for Ace, and he died. I buried Ace in Valdese, and never did like Mr. Brinkley after that.
During the time I was upset about Ace, dad took me to visit Rev. QJ Cox. I did not like to visit there because there were no kids. But he did have a black Cocker Spaniel. I had a ball playing with the dog. When dad came out to leave, QJ asked, “Do you like my dog?” My answer was ‘yes sir’.
“Well if your dad will let you, you can take him home, he doesn’t have a boy to play with here.”
Wow, just like that I had another dog. He was named Kasco. We spent a lot of happy time together.
Once visiting my Great Grandpa Hilly, I was sent to spend the night with Uncle Inman. Inman was big, and slept on a straw tick. He had only one bed in the shotgun house. So I slept with him. He was heavy and the tick gave way to his weight and I was down against him for the night. Both doors were standing open.
While Inman snored, something ‘WHOOSHED’ thru the house and didn’t make much noise, but in about a minute, a pack of dogs ran thru the dog, yelping and barking. Inman never stirred. When I mentioned it the next morning on the way to eat breakfast at GG Hillys. Inman said, “Weren’t nothing but a fox and some dogs Jackie.” Grandpa had a pretty big farm, but by then he wasn’t farming or Judging,.
Our last dog was a mixed breed in Gitmo, His name was Grouch.
Dogs have been important in my life, lots of memories.
One dog, who had just been ‘fixed’, said to the other, “Would your ‘best Friend’ really do that to you?”
Good stuff in 1934