Showing posts with label Jerre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jerre. Show all posts
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Rufus the Cairn Terrier
By Robert Darnell [Date unknown]
It was always easy to get Rufus disoriented. In his younger days when he would wander off he would wind up on the porch of a house three or four blocks away situated on a street the same as our house was situated on our street.
We would put up a lost dog sign and he always was returned home. Some of the times he had his collar on with our phone number ans some of the time he didn't.
He dearly loved to dig in the grass for grub worms and prowl through shrubs for lizards. He delighted in snapping at flying insects, and sometimes when he would catch a wasp or a bee, the sting would make him dizzy for a spell.
He didn't really care much for other dogs and mostly just seemed to tolerate them. There was one exception, a dog named Poochie, who enticed Rufus to run off with him several times. They were great friends.
Rufus was a great digger, which was his nature, and if he wanted to get out he usually did. However, most of the time he was content with his own yard.
He had a large vocabulary and fully understood many things that were said to him.
He was sturdy and healthy most of his life, except for allergies and hook worms, things that were pretty easily taken care of. His thick hair required constant grooming and lots of times it was a hit or miss operation. However, in his later years Jerre took care of his grooming very regularly.
He was a great friend and comfort to all of us who lived with him. Especially a comfort to Jerre when I would be out of town. She was glad to know that old Rufus was out there guarding things.
It is a sad time. The sturdy little dog, Rufus passed away last Friday.
On Wednesday Jerre and I went out to play nine holes of golf. Rufus was lying by the front door and looked sick. Jerre remarked that he was probably frightened by gunshots that could be heard in the distance.
Thursday it was obvious that he was pretty sick, so Jerre took him to the vet. The vet said he would have to run tests and take samples. Jerre brought Rufus back home and he continued to sleep mostly.
Then he died Friday while we were waiting word from the vet. When the diagnosis came it was that he had [a rare disease] and there is really no treatment for that in dogs.
Rufus had a good life and enjoyed it to the fullest.
One of the things that got him most excited was going for a walk. He didn't really walk but spent his time nosing and smelling everything in every yard.
Another of his passions was barking at thunder. When there would be a thunderstorm he would dash madly about the yard barking at the sky. When the thunder stopped he would sit in the rain looking up at the sky until the lightening flashed. Then he would get poised for another dash at the thunder.
He always barked furiously at the garbage men and when they were coming down the street one would think that a lion was raging in the backyard.
Likewise with the postman by if he ever got out he just greeted the postman like a member of the family.
It was always easy to get Rufus disoriented. In his younger days when he would wander off he would wind up on the porch of a house three or four blocks away situated on a street the same as our house was situated on our street.
We would put up a lost dog sign and he always was returned home. Some of the times he had his collar on with our phone number ans some of the time he didn't.
He dearly loved to dig in the grass for grub worms and prowl through shrubs for lizards. He delighted in snapping at flying insects, and sometimes when he would catch a wasp or a bee, the sting would make him dizzy for a spell.
He didn't really care much for other dogs and mostly just seemed to tolerate them. There was one exception, a dog named Poochie, who enticed Rufus to run off with him several times. They were great friends.
Rufus was a great digger, which was his nature, and if he wanted to get out he usually did. However, most of the time he was content with his own yard.
He had a large vocabulary and fully understood many things that were said to him.
He was sturdy and healthy most of his life, except for allergies and hook worms, things that were pretty easily taken care of. His thick hair required constant grooming and lots of times it was a hit or miss operation. However, in his later years Jerre took care of his grooming very regularly.
He was a great friend and comfort to all of us who lived with him. Especially a comfort to Jerre when I would be out of town. She was glad to know that old Rufus was out there guarding things.
It is a sad time. The sturdy little dog, Rufus passed away last Friday.
On Wednesday Jerre and I went out to play nine holes of golf. Rufus was lying by the front door and looked sick. Jerre remarked that he was probably frightened by gunshots that could be heard in the distance.
Thursday it was obvious that he was pretty sick, so Jerre took him to the vet. The vet said he would have to run tests and take samples. Jerre brought Rufus back home and he continued to sleep mostly.
Then he died Friday while we were waiting word from the vet. When the diagnosis came it was that he had [a rare disease] and there is really no treatment for that in dogs.
Rufus had a good life and enjoyed it to the fullest.
One of the things that got him most excited was going for a walk. He didn't really walk but spent his time nosing and smelling everything in every yard.
Another of his passions was barking at thunder. When there would be a thunderstorm he would dash madly about the yard barking at the sky. When the thunder stopped he would sit in the rain looking up at the sky until the lightening flashed. Then he would get poised for another dash at the thunder.
He always barked furiously at the garbage men and when they were coming down the street one would think that a lion was raging in the backyard.
Likewise with the postman by if he ever got out he just greeted the postman like a member of the family.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Texas-Tennessee Coalition Chili Formula MXVII
By Robert Darnell [Date unknown, Note: Jack Moore was 85 years old]
A few weeks ago we went to College Station to see Jack Moore from Abilene, who was one of Robert's early sponsors in his high school years. Jack was partly responsible for forming Robert's lovely personality. He is such a good old boy.
We hadn't seen Jack in 30 years and he's getting on up there in years now -- eighty-five. It was a nice visit with him, his wife, Ann, daughter, June Ford, her daughter Janie and several of Jack's grandchildren. Becky was specially glad to meet one of the grandsons, Clay, who is a senior in high school. He took her on a tour of the A&M campus which really made a hit with Becky.
It was at that visit during a weak moment that Rob and Jerre agreed to enter the great chili cook-off which was coming up October 24th in Flatonia. Jerre cooks chili at home for the family and it is good but it is not the hot, spicy, greasy, vaporizing, lava melting, belly scorching brand that you usually find at chili cook-offs.
Never-the-less we entered and the week before the contest Jerre and Rob bought all the ingredients except the meat. Jack got that from old Mack Eplen's Butcher Shop in Abilene. It was Mack Eplen's super number one chili ground brisket. They wrote a song about Old Mack Eplen, "Mack the Knife." and Jack Moore is legendary like a Pecos Bill, but those are other stories.
Jerre and Bob worked with their formula all week and practiced with cooking procedures. They named the chili "Texas-Tennessee Coalition Chili Formula MXVII."
David, David, and Jennifer planned to go to the cook off, but had to cancel at the last minute because of a big real estate deal that David had pending on Saturday. Sylvia and 'Lish talked about going but Sylvia had to work.
Bright and early Saturday morning, like 5 AM, Jerre, Bob and Beck got loaded up with the pots, cooker, utensils, ingredients, chairs and table, and headed for Flatonia which is a little over 100 miles West of Houston. Houston is 140 miles SE of Austin, and Austin is 65 miles NW of Round Top.
Well, they rolled on out and stopped in Columbus at the City Cafe for breakfast. The City Cafe is one of the few places left where a family almost any size can eat breakfast and the bill is still under $10.00.
They arrived at the neat little town of Flatonia and found all the streets blocked to traffic and everything shut down for the "Czhilispiel." They located the registration tent and were assigned their cooking spot. It turned out that there were two hundred cooks and they were lined up all up and down Flatonia's Main Street.
After some maneuvering with the traffic patrolman we were able to park our car in the cooking spot and spread our stuff out beside it. Jack and Ann showed up at the same time we did and they parked down by the lumber yard. We set up our table and chairs and started a charcoal fire in the cooker. It was soon pretty obvious what amateurs we were because everyone else was cooking with kerosene cookers and we were the only ones using charcoal.
Also we were cooking too much chili. Most everyone was cooking only two or three gallons, and we had a ten gallon pot.
Becky was assigned as the official onion chopper and that plus the smoke from the charcoal fire made her cry. She attracted several young Kikkers who wanted to rescue her from her Cinderella job. Especially they wanted to be sure that she survived so she could be at the dance that night. They asked why she was crying, and she said because she didn't want to eat her Daddy's cooking -- it made her sick and that's why she is so skinny. They asked her why she didn't eat her Mother's cooking and she said her Mother was too busy to cook.
With our charcoal fire and ten gallon pot, we had trouble browning our meat, so we decided to cut our formula to about 3/4. We finally got it all worked out and Chili started simmering pretty good.
The beer drinking started immediately on arrival. Everybody went directly past "Go" to the beer keg and that operation continued all day long and went smoothly without a hitch.
Our booth was just across from the bandstand so we had a front row at the music. This is the same band stand where Willie Nelson started and from which many other famous musicians have played.
Beck and Clay and some of the small fry went off to the kiddy rides and the armadillo races. The older ones sat around and told stories.
Jack told about the time he was eating dinner with a farm family in West Texas. The mother put a dish of butter on the table into which she stirred some good old syrup. One of the kids stuck his knife in the bowl and licked it. Then he stuck it back in and threw it on the floor.
His old Paw back-handed him out of his chair and yelled: "How many times I told yew -- Don't throw yer knife on the floor without lickin' it!"
Then old Rob told about the time he was traveling up in East Texas for Stauffer Chemical. He was looking for a Mobil Gas Plant up around Bobo and Blair. It was a hot summer day and the way was dusty and sweaty and Rob was wishing he had a cold drink of water.
He saw an old farm house by the road with a well in the yard. He stopped. It was a run down unpainted house with a rusty tin roof and a junky yard. He had his doubts but went ahead up to the door and knocked. A woman came to the door who was the dirtiest woman he had ever seen. Her dress had dirt and stains from months of wear. Her hair was greasy and stringy -- dirty hands -- dirty feet.
"What 'cher want?"
"Well, I was er... uh... thinking ... ahem. Uh, could I have a drink of water from your well?"
The husband came up behind the woman and he was just as dirty as she was. Then four little kids showed up and they were dirtier than the parents. Not only dirty clothes but soiled diapers and snotty noses as well.
Then as Rob was drawing the water from the well the old Grand Paw came around the corner from the back yard. Now that old man was so dirty he made the others look almost clean. That man was old and never had washed in his whole life.
The water was up and the community dipper was hanging there so Rob had to go ahead and get a drink.
He took the dipper and looked at it -- dipped the water -- and started twisting the dipper around the way you do, trying to drink out of a spot where no one else drinks out of it. He had it twisted around almost 360 degrees until his hand and wrist were inverted and he was drinking next to the handle on the other side when he heard one of the kids say:
"Look Maw, he drinks just like Grand Paw does."
Jerre was promenading around checking all the action when a handsome young feller gave her a big hug and kiss because she looked so delectable. She was all a'flutter the rest of the day. The Kikkers and Stompers were really prowling that day.
While moseying around Robert ran into Leon Hale. Robert reads Leon's column in the Houston Post every morning and often cites him in his conversations. He introduced Leon to Jerre, Jack, Ann, Beck, June, and Clay and they were glad to meet the celebrated columnist. Leon was one of the judges in the Chili Cookoff.
Our booth consisted of a card table, chairs, cooker and pot -- but most others were decorated up with a theme -- Wild men from Borneo, Convicts from Huntsville, Devils Den, Long Rifles, Civil War Canoneers ,,,
Playful Pleasure Saloon gave out free shots of Tequilla and Nachos. They were very popular.
Swiss Chalet with shots and sox... they yodeled. Hawaiians with their portable grass shack.
The Hornydillas -- Queen Bee with her drones buzzing all over the place.
Mexican Hot -- shots and many, many more.
Little shops scattered around selling coffee, Cokes, hot chocolate, Kolaches, hot dogs, nachos, hamburgers ... etc.
The portable chemical heads were a top attraction. Long lines queued before them all day.
One lady was giving free squirts of Tequila out of an enema bottle. None of our crowd would take any. Finicky stomachs.
The weatherman participated beautifully. Crisp -- cool all day -- no rain -- no heat -- no cold -- just right.
After all the chili cooking, chili tasting, walking and talking and drinking and more chili tasting we were plenty tired by five o'clock when the winners were to be announced.
We waited expectantly but when they did not call out our number we felt sure some mistake had been made. But decided not to file a protest, and just let the judging stand.
We all packed it in and headed for our respective homes about six. Jerre, Rob, and Becky headed for Houston. They stopped at Frank's -- one of the world's great highway restaurants -- in Schulenburg for supper. They had some chili and chili dogs ... then on home.
Please pass the bicarb, Pappy.
end
A few weeks ago we went to College Station to see Jack Moore from Abilene, who was one of Robert's early sponsors in his high school years. Jack was partly responsible for forming Robert's lovely personality. He is such a good old boy.
We hadn't seen Jack in 30 years and he's getting on up there in years now -- eighty-five. It was a nice visit with him, his wife, Ann, daughter, June Ford, her daughter Janie and several of Jack's grandchildren. Becky was specially glad to meet one of the grandsons, Clay, who is a senior in high school. He took her on a tour of the A&M campus which really made a hit with Becky.
It was at that visit during a weak moment that Rob and Jerre agreed to enter the great chili cook-off which was coming up October 24th in Flatonia. Jerre cooks chili at home for the family and it is good but it is not the hot, spicy, greasy, vaporizing, lava melting, belly scorching brand that you usually find at chili cook-offs.
Never-the-less we entered and the week before the contest Jerre and Rob bought all the ingredients except the meat. Jack got that from old Mack Eplen's Butcher Shop in Abilene. It was Mack Eplen's super number one chili ground brisket. They wrote a song about Old Mack Eplen, "Mack the Knife." and Jack Moore is legendary like a Pecos Bill, but those are other stories.
Jerre and Bob worked with their formula all week and practiced with cooking procedures. They named the chili "Texas-Tennessee Coalition Chili Formula MXVII."
David, David, and Jennifer planned to go to the cook off, but had to cancel at the last minute because of a big real estate deal that David had pending on Saturday. Sylvia and 'Lish talked about going but Sylvia had to work.
Bright and early Saturday morning, like 5 AM, Jerre, Bob and Beck got loaded up with the pots, cooker, utensils, ingredients, chairs and table, and headed for Flatonia which is a little over 100 miles West of Houston. Houston is 140 miles SE of Austin, and Austin is 65 miles NW of Round Top.
Well, they rolled on out and stopped in Columbus at the City Cafe for breakfast. The City Cafe is one of the few places left where a family almost any size can eat breakfast and the bill is still under $10.00.
They arrived at the neat little town of Flatonia and found all the streets blocked to traffic and everything shut down for the "Czhilispiel." They located the registration tent and were assigned their cooking spot. It turned out that there were two hundred cooks and they were lined up all up and down Flatonia's Main Street.
After some maneuvering with the traffic patrolman we were able to park our car in the cooking spot and spread our stuff out beside it. Jack and Ann showed up at the same time we did and they parked down by the lumber yard. We set up our table and chairs and started a charcoal fire in the cooker. It was soon pretty obvious what amateurs we were because everyone else was cooking with kerosene cookers and we were the only ones using charcoal.
Also we were cooking too much chili. Most everyone was cooking only two or three gallons, and we had a ten gallon pot.
Becky was assigned as the official onion chopper and that plus the smoke from the charcoal fire made her cry. She attracted several young Kikkers who wanted to rescue her from her Cinderella job. Especially they wanted to be sure that she survived so she could be at the dance that night. They asked why she was crying, and she said because she didn't want to eat her Daddy's cooking -- it made her sick and that's why she is so skinny. They asked her why she didn't eat her Mother's cooking and she said her Mother was too busy to cook.
With our charcoal fire and ten gallon pot, we had trouble browning our meat, so we decided to cut our formula to about 3/4. We finally got it all worked out and Chili started simmering pretty good.
The beer drinking started immediately on arrival. Everybody went directly past "Go" to the beer keg and that operation continued all day long and went smoothly without a hitch.
Our booth was just across from the bandstand so we had a front row at the music. This is the same band stand where Willie Nelson started and from which many other famous musicians have played.
Beck and Clay and some of the small fry went off to the kiddy rides and the armadillo races. The older ones sat around and told stories.
Jack told about the time he was eating dinner with a farm family in West Texas. The mother put a dish of butter on the table into which she stirred some good old syrup. One of the kids stuck his knife in the bowl and licked it. Then he stuck it back in and threw it on the floor.
His old Paw back-handed him out of his chair and yelled: "How many times I told yew -- Don't throw yer knife on the floor without lickin' it!"
Then old Rob told about the time he was traveling up in East Texas for Stauffer Chemical. He was looking for a Mobil Gas Plant up around Bobo and Blair. It was a hot summer day and the way was dusty and sweaty and Rob was wishing he had a cold drink of water.
He saw an old farm house by the road with a well in the yard. He stopped. It was a run down unpainted house with a rusty tin roof and a junky yard. He had his doubts but went ahead up to the door and knocked. A woman came to the door who was the dirtiest woman he had ever seen. Her dress had dirt and stains from months of wear. Her hair was greasy and stringy -- dirty hands -- dirty feet.
"What 'cher want?"
"Well, I was er... uh... thinking ... ahem. Uh, could I have a drink of water from your well?"
The husband came up behind the woman and he was just as dirty as she was. Then four little kids showed up and they were dirtier than the parents. Not only dirty clothes but soiled diapers and snotty noses as well.
Then as Rob was drawing the water from the well the old Grand Paw came around the corner from the back yard. Now that old man was so dirty he made the others look almost clean. That man was old and never had washed in his whole life.
The water was up and the community dipper was hanging there so Rob had to go ahead and get a drink.
He took the dipper and looked at it -- dipped the water -- and started twisting the dipper around the way you do, trying to drink out of a spot where no one else drinks out of it. He had it twisted around almost 360 degrees until his hand and wrist were inverted and he was drinking next to the handle on the other side when he heard one of the kids say:
"Look Maw, he drinks just like Grand Paw does."
***
Jerre was promenading around checking all the action when a handsome young feller gave her a big hug and kiss because she looked so delectable. She was all a'flutter the rest of the day. The Kikkers and Stompers were really prowling that day.
While moseying around Robert ran into Leon Hale. Robert reads Leon's column in the Houston Post every morning and often cites him in his conversations. He introduced Leon to Jerre, Jack, Ann, Beck, June, and Clay and they were glad to meet the celebrated columnist. Leon was one of the judges in the Chili Cookoff.
Our booth consisted of a card table, chairs, cooker and pot -- but most others were decorated up with a theme -- Wild men from Borneo, Convicts from Huntsville, Devils Den, Long Rifles, Civil War Canoneers ,,,
Playful Pleasure Saloon gave out free shots of Tequilla and Nachos. They were very popular.
Swiss Chalet with shots and sox... they yodeled. Hawaiians with their portable grass shack.
The Hornydillas -- Queen Bee with her drones buzzing all over the place.
Mexican Hot -- shots and many, many more.
Little shops scattered around selling coffee, Cokes, hot chocolate, Kolaches, hot dogs, nachos, hamburgers ... etc.
The portable chemical heads were a top attraction. Long lines queued before them all day.
One lady was giving free squirts of Tequila out of an enema bottle. None of our crowd would take any. Finicky stomachs.
The weatherman participated beautifully. Crisp -- cool all day -- no rain -- no heat -- no cold -- just right.
After all the chili cooking, chili tasting, walking and talking and drinking and more chili tasting we were plenty tired by five o'clock when the winners were to be announced.
We waited expectantly but when they did not call out our number we felt sure some mistake had been made. But decided not to file a protest, and just let the judging stand.
We all packed it in and headed for our respective homes about six. Jerre, Rob, and Becky headed for Houston. They stopped at Frank's -- one of the world's great highway restaurants -- in Schulenburg for supper. They had some chili and chili dogs ... then on home.
Please pass the bicarb, Pappy.
end
My Daughter and My Three Sons-in-law
By Robert Darnell [Date Unknown]
Sylvia appeared on the scene in Jena, Louisiana, and after 3 months we settled in Fort Worth, Texas. She had a rather normal childhood consisting of public schools, home life with parents and brothers and sisters, and relatives, and friends.
We moved from Ft Worth to Houston when she was nine and her activities continued along the same course. She was active in church activities and Sunday School. Her early friends were from the neighborhood, school groups, and church groups. Her greatest interests during her early years were dramatics, dancing, and singing. She was a good student and breezed through high school and on to a degree from the U of the T.
She was a good, obedient daughter until about the last year in high school. At that time she was caught up in the hippy movement and went through a mild period of rebellion against her parents and the establishment. She was always very much interested in boys, and had many boy friends from fifth grade on. After college and her first job she brought home what was to be the first of my Three Sons-in-law.
He was Ron, a very talented jack-of-all-trades. There was no romance in this match, maybe a little love, but no really emotional love which binds two people. They started off with a very nice church wedding and went right back to work. One of Ron's most consistent habits was to drink about two six packs of beer every afternoon starting about four PM. This always prepared him for a beautiful evening of arriving home late, dirty, tired and ready to eat and sleep. They fought their way through a couple of years and had a baby girl, Alicia. After a couple of more years of battle they gave it up and divorced. Sylvia was left to raise the baby with Ron consistently not coming through with any child support.
Soon after the divorce, Sylvia showed up at our house one day with what was to be my Three Sons-in-law number 2.This character had long dirty hair that stuck out on his head in every direction, and hair that stuck out the same way on his face. If he had a mouth you couldn't see it and some teeth that stuck out in every direction like his hair about half way down his throat.
A few days after the first meeting, Sylvia called us up and said she was going to marry It. My wife, Jerre, went into a deep faint and didn't recover for two days. She tried to talk some sense into Sylvia, but no go. They were married on a bridge down in Memorial Park on a very hot Summer day. We all went and thought that maybe there was something we didn't see about the situation. There was absolutely no love or romance about this union -- they just did it.
About two weeks later Sylvia called us and they had separated. He was gone and she was devastated in tears.
In a week or so she recovered and then spent about six months getting a divorce from It.
Before that divorce took, she came around one day and lo and behold she had a fellow with her who had one leg. This fellow, Jim, was very understanding, and she could talk to him. He was good to her little girl, Alicia. Well, predictably, the next thing they told us was they were going to get married. Jerre again tried to talk her out of it, but she didn't go into shock this time, she was hardened to what was to be my Three Sons-in-law number 3.
Anyhow they did get married at a church and for sure they were going to live happily ever after.
But with no surprise to anyone after one month they were separated and were going to get a divorce. Sylvia says it was all a mistake and she really didn't know him, Jim.
The first weekend after Jim was gone Sylvia came around with a one-eyed guy named Billy Bob, who just returned from a Moonie Camp. He's a resident of of West Texas. Wow, here comes My Three Sons-in-law, number 4.
Sylvia appeared on the scene in Jena, Louisiana, and after 3 months we settled in Fort Worth, Texas. She had a rather normal childhood consisting of public schools, home life with parents and brothers and sisters, and relatives, and friends.
We moved from Ft Worth to Houston when she was nine and her activities continued along the same course. She was active in church activities and Sunday School. Her early friends were from the neighborhood, school groups, and church groups. Her greatest interests during her early years were dramatics, dancing, and singing. She was a good student and breezed through high school and on to a degree from the U of the T.
She was a good, obedient daughter until about the last year in high school. At that time she was caught up in the hippy movement and went through a mild period of rebellion against her parents and the establishment. She was always very much interested in boys, and had many boy friends from fifth grade on. After college and her first job she brought home what was to be the first of my Three Sons-in-law.
He was Ron, a very talented jack-of-all-trades. There was no romance in this match, maybe a little love, but no really emotional love which binds two people. They started off with a very nice church wedding and went right back to work. One of Ron's most consistent habits was to drink about two six packs of beer every afternoon starting about four PM. This always prepared him for a beautiful evening of arriving home late, dirty, tired and ready to eat and sleep. They fought their way through a couple of years and had a baby girl, Alicia. After a couple of more years of battle they gave it up and divorced. Sylvia was left to raise the baby with Ron consistently not coming through with any child support.
Soon after the divorce, Sylvia showed up at our house one day with what was to be my Three Sons-in-law number 2.This character had long dirty hair that stuck out on his head in every direction, and hair that stuck out the same way on his face. If he had a mouth you couldn't see it and some teeth that stuck out in every direction like his hair about half way down his throat.
A few days after the first meeting, Sylvia called us up and said she was going to marry It. My wife, Jerre, went into a deep faint and didn't recover for two days. She tried to talk some sense into Sylvia, but no go. They were married on a bridge down in Memorial Park on a very hot Summer day. We all went and thought that maybe there was something we didn't see about the situation. There was absolutely no love or romance about this union -- they just did it.
About two weeks later Sylvia called us and they had separated. He was gone and she was devastated in tears.
In a week or so she recovered and then spent about six months getting a divorce from It.
Before that divorce took, she came around one day and lo and behold she had a fellow with her who had one leg. This fellow, Jim, was very understanding, and she could talk to him. He was good to her little girl, Alicia. Well, predictably, the next thing they told us was they were going to get married. Jerre again tried to talk her out of it, but she didn't go into shock this time, she was hardened to what was to be my Three Sons-in-law number 3.
Anyhow they did get married at a church and for sure they were going to live happily ever after.
But with no surprise to anyone after one month they were separated and were going to get a divorce. Sylvia says it was all a mistake and she really didn't know him, Jim.
The first weekend after Jim was gone Sylvia came around with a one-eyed guy named Billy Bob, who just returned from a Moonie Camp. He's a resident of of West Texas. Wow, here comes My Three Sons-in-law, number 4.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Rufus
By Robert Darnell [Date unknown]
Listen and I'll tell you a story about a little black dog, "Rufus."
Bob and Jerre went to Chicago to visit with their fine young son, Pat, his beautiful wife, Diana, and delightful grand-daughter, Samantha.
While they were gone Rufus stayed in a hotel: The Pampered Pet Inn. His room was a 5 x 8 concrete and wire fence run -- very light, airy, and clean. He took his own sleeping equipment, sheet, food and pedigree papers.
When he checked in he was scared to death. All that yapping, clatter and noise, he had never been in before. He flopped down on the floor thinking his world had come to an end.
After Bob left the noise slackened, and all the guests settled down to a quiet conversation.
"Where you from?" they asked Rufus.
"I'm from Country Place. It's a nice open place with small trees and bushes and lots of grass," Rufus replied.
"What do you do?"
"Mostly I just lay around in the garage and sleep. I get up and bark when Bob or Jerre come around to let them know I'm guarding things. I'd wander off on the golf course but I don't because they yell at me and threaten to kick me."
"Have they ever kicked you?!"
"No."
"Well, don't worry about it. If you want to wander off, go ahead. They won't do anything but yell, and people's yells are worse than their spanks."
"What do you eat?"
"I only eat once a day -- two patties. When they put it out I stretch it out and come up slowly. Only nibble at first."
"That's no way to do it. When they are doing the food you want to come running and jumping. Get up close and almost take it out of their hand. Even maybe get a bite of the hand every once in a while. That way you'll get more attention and extra food now and then. Boy, you sure have a lot to learn about being a dog."
"Sounds good to me. I really appreciate all the tips and I'm going to start doing it that way when I get home!"
"Another thing I like to do is root around for grub worms in the grass, but they won't let do that because I tear up the yard like an armadillo. They yell and act like they are going to spank me!"
"What do you do?"
"I walk away with my tail between my legs and look back over my shoulder very pitifully."
"Have they ever spanked you?"
"No."
"See, no harm will come just a little yelling. Go ahead and grub for the worms all you want to. The grass will grow back sometime."
"Another thing I like to do is bark at garbage men. I run up and down inside the fence and really bark. I hope I never do get out because if I got close to those garbage men they'd probably throw me in the truck."
"If you like to bark at garbage men why don't you bark at other people and things?"
"I hadn't thought about that, but as soon as I get back home I'm going to bark at everybody."
"Good for you."
"One thing that I really like to do is bark at the thunder. Every time we have a storm I run around the yard real crazy like and bark at the thunder. Bob and Jerre don't seem to mind if I do that. They stand around and watch and laugh. They say, 'He's getting a good bath out on that rain and I bet he'll sleep good tonight. Tomorrow morning he won't want to move.'"
"They're right. I do get sore and stiff chasing that thunder, but I'm hooked on it. I'm not going to stop."
When Rufus came home after four days in the company of those other dogs, he ran off constantly, gulped his food, barked at everything, dug up the yard every time his masters' backs were turned, and just reared up and laughed when they yelled at him.
In fact he's getting very arrogant and hard to live with. They are probably going to spank that little mutt.
end
Listen and I'll tell you a story about a little black dog, "Rufus."
Bob and Jerre went to Chicago to visit with their fine young son, Pat, his beautiful wife, Diana, and delightful grand-daughter, Samantha.
While they were gone Rufus stayed in a hotel: The Pampered Pet Inn. His room was a 5 x 8 concrete and wire fence run -- very light, airy, and clean. He took his own sleeping equipment, sheet, food and pedigree papers.
When he checked in he was scared to death. All that yapping, clatter and noise, he had never been in before. He flopped down on the floor thinking his world had come to an end.
After Bob left the noise slackened, and all the guests settled down to a quiet conversation.
"Where you from?" they asked Rufus.
"I'm from Country Place. It's a nice open place with small trees and bushes and lots of grass," Rufus replied.
"What do you do?"
"Mostly I just lay around in the garage and sleep. I get up and bark when Bob or Jerre come around to let them know I'm guarding things. I'd wander off on the golf course but I don't because they yell at me and threaten to kick me."
"Have they ever kicked you?!"
"No."
"Well, don't worry about it. If you want to wander off, go ahead. They won't do anything but yell, and people's yells are worse than their spanks."
"What do you eat?"
"I only eat once a day -- two patties. When they put it out I stretch it out and come up slowly. Only nibble at first."
"That's no way to do it. When they are doing the food you want to come running and jumping. Get up close and almost take it out of their hand. Even maybe get a bite of the hand every once in a while. That way you'll get more attention and extra food now and then. Boy, you sure have a lot to learn about being a dog."
"Sounds good to me. I really appreciate all the tips and I'm going to start doing it that way when I get home!"
"Another thing I like to do is root around for grub worms in the grass, but they won't let do that because I tear up the yard like an armadillo. They yell and act like they are going to spank me!"
"What do you do?"
"I walk away with my tail between my legs and look back over my shoulder very pitifully."
"Have they ever spanked you?"
"No."
"See, no harm will come just a little yelling. Go ahead and grub for the worms all you want to. The grass will grow back sometime."
"Another thing I like to do is bark at garbage men. I run up and down inside the fence and really bark. I hope I never do get out because if I got close to those garbage men they'd probably throw me in the truck."
"If you like to bark at garbage men why don't you bark at other people and things?"
"I hadn't thought about that, but as soon as I get back home I'm going to bark at everybody."
"Good for you."
"One thing that I really like to do is bark at the thunder. Every time we have a storm I run around the yard real crazy like and bark at the thunder. Bob and Jerre don't seem to mind if I do that. They stand around and watch and laugh. They say, 'He's getting a good bath out on that rain and I bet he'll sleep good tonight. Tomorrow morning he won't want to move.'"
"They're right. I do get sore and stiff chasing that thunder, but I'm hooked on it. I'm not going to stop."
When Rufus came home after four days in the company of those other dogs, he ran off constantly, gulped his food, barked at everything, dug up the yard every time his masters' backs were turned, and just reared up and laughed when they yelled at him.
In fact he's getting very arrogant and hard to live with. They are probably going to spank that little mutt.
end
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