....happened about the same time my wonderful uncle Frog was teaching me and my cousin Mike to smoke. We were four. We got spanked but Frog managed to get out the door before my mama could catch him. Anyway, it was about this same time our backyard neighbor on Calloway Drive invited mama, Cindy, me, and I guess Glenn, though he was a little thing and easy to forget back then....anyway, these neighbors raised huntin' dogs. In most parts of the world they would be "bird dogs", in Louisiana "coon dogs", but in Texas they're called HUNTIN' dogs. These dogs were valuable and required lots of attention and exercise to keep them in shape to bring in the best price. I don't remember these neighbors' name but the guy had to go out of town on business and left his wife to care for the dogs. She was a little, scrawny young bride and had fits with those dogs.
One day she had a brilliant idea. On a hot afternoon, rather than leash all these dogs to let them run along a dirt road behind the house, she would put an open can of dog food on the back bumper of their brand new 1954 Ford and drive off. The dogs would run after the food and get the exercise they needed without her having to work up a sweat. She asked if we wanted to ride along with her. It looked like it was going to be a great adventure. Cindy and I...and I guess Glenn, though I don't remember him being there, sat in the back seat to watch the dogs while skinny neighbor lady (I'll call her "Ms Skinny") and mama sat in the front seat gossiping. We were having a grand old time until tragedy struck.
Ms Skinny wasn't watching the road and managed to hit a huge pot hole in the road. The front left tire hit that hole and shook the whole car causing that opened can of dog food to fall off the bumper and onto the dusty road. It was a bloody, horrible, nightmare causing scene. Those dogs raced for that can as fast as they could. The runt of the litter was the unfortunate winner of the race and dug her nose into the can as the bigger dogs caught up and decided to take charge. It's important at this point to remember that these dogs were ready to sell. They had spent time growing, graduating from huntin' dog school, and putting on height and weight...so the phrase "runt of the litter" should be taken with a grain of salt. These dogs attacked that runt and tore into her. It was a brutal thing to witness. By the time Ms Skinny got stopped those dogs were in no mood to be disciplined by that tiny woman. My mama ran back with her even though she was scared to death of dogs. Together they wrestled the runt away from the bigger dogs and carried her to the car. The poor thing was torn up and bleeding bad. Ms Skinny didn't want to put her in the car because, after all, that car was brand new. It was too far to walk home carrying the dog so she decided to put her on the trunk lid...no rope, no leash, just bloody dog trying to hold on. It wasn't a long drive but that poor dog hadn't mastered the art of trunk lid riding and she was slipping all over that Ford's trunk lid. Cindy and I tried to tell Ms Skinny the dog was making a terrible mess on that trunk but she yelled back that she would wash it before Mr Skinny got home from his trip.
Cindy and I should have given a better description of "terrible mess" I reckon because what we watched was one bleeding dog scraping and scratching like crazy to not fall off while the rest of the dogs ran behind jumping up on the back of the trunk and bumper trying to get another bite in on the loser. It wasn't a pretty sight. The back of that new Ford was destroyed. I felt sorry for Ms Skinny but felt worse for that dog. She was so scarred up by the time the vet got through with her there was no way she would ever be worth selling. I don't know what became of that poor dog but I bet wherever she is, she's still telling her grandkids about that fateful day
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