Wednesday, March 6, 2013
I come home to find three new trees planted. Lined and spaced evenly to the west of the porch, bare nine foot sticks reaching toward the sky. I look out the driver's side window and smile. It's Dad and his giving.
This is a man who will notice when a tree limb has fallen on your house. He'll stop and help you remove it.
This is a man who finds a dog and writes a story about it. The dog he named Lucky.
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is my Dad.
Uncle Wesley, Mama's eighty-one year old brother, always totes a canvas folding stool when he goes rabbit hunting with me. His wife, Aunt Marjoree, doesn't like rabbit so the last one he got he ended up eating rabbit three nights in a row.
When he asked me if I saw that little funny looking dog while we were running rabbits I didn't think much of it (no, I hadn't seen nothing but beagles).
The place we were hunting is a big area, roughly two miles by one and a half. Uncle Wesley said his dogs got lost once and it took them three days to get home.
The next day.
I go to the same place alone (from the other side, one mile at least from where we were the day before). Jason's beagles, which I've been volunteered to help train, are running nothing but deer. I am walking up and down roads trying to get all of them back. Of course ain't nobody can call to a dog as good as a country boy raised up fox hunting and rabbit hunting.
I look down at my feet and there's a toy schnauzer looking up at me. His eyes are all matted, and he looks like he's been crying. I'm wondering how did he survive the night in this place because every rabbit track that I have seen has two bobcats and two coyotes following it.
I'm walking up and down these roads just hollering for these beagles, only two left to find. This little schnauzer is faithfully trotting along with me. He's one of those that picks up a back leg and trots on three.
When I holler I stop so that I can listen. I notice that my new companion looks up at me then trots over to the shade and lays down. Even though he looked at me the same way and did the same thing I didn't think that I was so stupid to begin with. After the third time I understand that he genuinely believes me to be stupid to stand in the sun. Before this I had been figuring that I would leave him in the woods because he must be sick and someone had thrown him away. Now there is no way that I can leave him to the mercy of the wild creatures even though I know that he survived at least one night there.
It seems as soon as I decide this my last two beagles come around the curve and we load everybody up. The rabbit dogs get put in the box and Lucky gets to ride in the open bed. Of course that means he is boss dog. Anyone outside the truck can only see his ears sticking up even though he is standing on his hind legs.
Here we go to Uncle Wesley's.
As I turn in that Holifield man that works for the water company slows down. Then he backs up and pulls in behind me. He gets out and asks, Where did you get that dog?
At first I don't even think what dog he's talking about. Then I look down at Lucky. Raised him from a pup, I say.
This guy is serious and not in a humorous mood. By now he is where Lucky can see him and you can tell Lucky is his dog. He asks, How long have you had him?
I get the story told that we had been rabbit hunting and had seen him the last two days. How this dog got there and survived the two days had convinced me to pick him up and how this should be on Oprah TV!
Today I am grateful my Dad gives and blogs.