When I was about 10 our farm was taken over by a strange looking dog, part hound, part bear judging by his shaggy appearance and disposition. I was out feeding our few pigs when this weird looking dog trotted into our lives. He chased the pigs away from the trough, sampled the food, ate what he wanted, then inspected the barnyard as if it was his. From then on, I guess it was.
Whacky took up residence under the corn crib. From there he could see the back of the house, driveway and most of the barnyard. Gramps wanted to shoot him, said he'd be killing the chickens and what all. Paw said see what he does first, we could use a watchdog.
Well, our sis, Angel, was the only one whacky would allow near him. So, she got the chore of feeding him. Our lil' bro, Daryl, or Darl as we called him, was scared to death of whacky. For good reason. Whenever whacky saw Darl away from the house, whacky would charge out from under the corn crib, pounce on Darl, knocking him to the ground, then drag him a few feet through the dust, Darl screaming the whole time. I thought gramps was gonna shoot ol' whacky then for sure, but gramps was laughing so hard he had to sit down.
And that's how things were, for a long time.
Ol' Whacky
Ol' Whacky
hoppy;873987 wrote: When I was about 10 our farm was taken over by a strange looking dog, part hound, part bear judging by his shaggy appearance and disposition. I was out feeding our few pigs when this weird looking dog trotted into our lives. He chased the pigs away from the trough, sampled the food, ate what he wanted, then inspected the barnyard as if it was his. From then on, I guess it was.
Whacky took up residence under the corn crib. From there he could see the back of the house, driveway and most of the barnyard. Gramps wanted to shoot him, said he'd be killing the chickens and what all. Paw said see what he does first, we could use a watchdog.
Well, our sis, Angel, was the only one whacky would allow near him. So, she got the chore of feeding him. Our lil' bro, Daryl, or Darl as we called him, was scared to death of whacky. For good reason. Whenever whacky saw Darl away from the house, whacky would charge out from under the corn crib, pounce on Darl, knocking him to the ground, then drag him a few feet through the dust, Darl screaming the whole time. I thought gramps was gonna shoot ol' whacky then for sure, but gramps was laughing so hard he had to sit down.
And that's how things were, for a long time.
The fall of my tenth year was made memorable by one event. My older brother, Ike, prepared to go hunting with the two Hooker boys from down the road. Bill and Tom Hooker. I was to go along, as I had many times before. I had no gun but helped sweep a field. This time Darl wanted to go along. Ike said no. Darl's lip started to quiver and his shoulders heaved as he gave out a big sob. Bill Hooker says "aw hell, let 'im go". So, we set out for the Hooker place, 'bout 1/2 mile down the road. Bill and Tom went in the house, got their guns and came out, whistling up their two dogs. We had to leave our dog Whacky, home. Last time he met the Hooker dogs, they fought. Wacky got tore up pretty bad.
We hadn't got far into the cornfield behind the Hooker place when we came upon one of their barn cats, prowling the fence row. Instantly the dogs set upon the cat, no doubt thinking 'cat sandwich'. Tom and Bill waded in, grabbing their dogs. Ike took hold of the cat, getting bit, swearing, then tossing the cat into the air over his shoulder.
As luck would have it, lil' brother Darl suddenly found himself in the midst of the frey. The cat landed smack on top of his head, like a fur cap. Darl did what he always did. He panicked, screamed, started running, grabbing at the cat, getting bit, cat digging his front claws into Darl's forehead, his rear legs pumping like pistons.
Darl, in his terror, kept running and screaming. Ike and the Hookers were yelling for him to stop so they could help. Darl stopped, saw the Hooker's dogs pounding toward him, panicked anew and ran about two steps before being overtaken by the dogs. A lot of screaming, flailing of arms and legs, yoewling, growling, barking and swearing went on before everything was sorted out.
Poor Darl. He was covered with mud, scratches, blood and he peed himself. Ike carried Darl on his shoulders as we headed home. Mom and granny had fits as they fussed over Darl. Ike got his fruitjar of evil smelling and tasting stuff that he and gramps drank at night as they sat at the kitchen table listening to the old radio. Shoulda heard Darl scream as mom dabbed his wounds with that stuff. That boy sure could hit some high notes.
That was part of my childhood.
Whacky took up residence under the corn crib. From there he could see the back of the house, driveway and most of the barnyard. Gramps wanted to shoot him, said he'd be killing the chickens and what all. Paw said see what he does first, we could use a watchdog.
Well, our sis, Angel, was the only one whacky would allow near him. So, she got the chore of feeding him. Our lil' bro, Daryl, or Darl as we called him, was scared to death of whacky. For good reason. Whenever whacky saw Darl away from the house, whacky would charge out from under the corn crib, pounce on Darl, knocking him to the ground, then drag him a few feet through the dust, Darl screaming the whole time. I thought gramps was gonna shoot ol' whacky then for sure, but gramps was laughing so hard he had to sit down.
And that's how things were, for a long time.
The fall of my tenth year was made memorable by one event. My older brother, Ike, prepared to go hunting with the two Hooker boys from down the road. Bill and Tom Hooker. I was to go along, as I had many times before. I had no gun but helped sweep a field. This time Darl wanted to go along. Ike said no. Darl's lip started to quiver and his shoulders heaved as he gave out a big sob. Bill Hooker says "aw hell, let 'im go". So, we set out for the Hooker place, 'bout 1/2 mile down the road. Bill and Tom went in the house, got their guns and came out, whistling up their two dogs. We had to leave our dog Whacky, home. Last time he met the Hooker dogs, they fought. Wacky got tore up pretty bad.
We hadn't got far into the cornfield behind the Hooker place when we came upon one of their barn cats, prowling the fence row. Instantly the dogs set upon the cat, no doubt thinking 'cat sandwich'. Tom and Bill waded in, grabbing their dogs. Ike took hold of the cat, getting bit, swearing, then tossing the cat into the air over his shoulder.
As luck would have it, lil' brother Darl suddenly found himself in the midst of the frey. The cat landed smack on top of his head, like a fur cap. Darl did what he always did. He panicked, screamed, started running, grabbing at the cat, getting bit, cat digging his front claws into Darl's forehead, his rear legs pumping like pistons.
Darl, in his terror, kept running and screaming. Ike and the Hookers were yelling for him to stop so they could help. Darl stopped, saw the Hooker's dogs pounding toward him, panicked anew and ran about two steps before being overtaken by the dogs. A lot of screaming, flailing of arms and legs, yoewling, growling, barking and swearing went on before everything was sorted out.
Poor Darl. He was covered with mud, scratches, blood and he peed himself. Ike carried Darl on his shoulders as we headed home. Mom and granny had fits as they fussed over Darl. Ike got his fruitjar of evil smelling and tasting stuff that he and gramps drank at night as they sat at the kitchen table listening to the old radio. Shoulda heard Darl scream as mom dabbed his wounds with that stuff. That boy sure could hit some high notes.
That was part of my childhood.
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Ol' Whacky
:yh_rotfl
Oh that takes me back home!
Oh that takes me back home!
Ol' Whacky
One summer saturday afternoon in my 11th year, big brother Ike told me he needed me to go to town with him.This was our normal routine. We get to town, Ike gives me some money for the movie matinee with instructions to come to Tommy's tap, a few doors away from the theater, and wait for him. I would sit quietly at a corner table and sip a root beer while Ike finished shooting pool or drinking. Then I would drive us home.
That saturday morning dad and gramps took the truck and headed for a farm auction a few miles away. Ike and I did our usual business in town. As I headed Ike's old model "A" up the lane we noticed the truck in the barnyard, the whole family gathered around. We walked over to investigate. In the back of the truck stood a medium sized gray gelding. Gramps was grinning like a 'possum and Angel couldn't wait for the horse to be unloaded. She had already named him. "He's beautiful. Just like a gray cloud. I'll call him cloudy". "Why not just gray"? Ike snorted but was ignored.
Cloudy was unloaded and gramps led him around the barnyard a bit, then suggested someone ride him. There was no question who that would be. Angel requested a boost up. Then dad grabbed Darl, hoisted him aboard in front of Angel, telling him to hold tight to cloudy's mane. Darl looked scared and took a death grip on as much mane as he could.
Angel took the lead rope, kicked cloudy in the ribs, and nothing. Cloudy just stood there. Another kick, a "giddyup", nothing. Ike stepped forward, still clutching the quart bottle of Drewey's he bought at Tommy's, for the road. Ike hauled off and slapped cloudy on the rump with a slap that cracked like a shot. Cloudy reacted instantly.
Cloudy took off like he was late to dinner, Angel did an amazing back flip off cloudy, landing on her feet. Darl, well, he didn't fare so well. Cloudy ran around the barnyard, looking for a way out, Darl hanging on, screaming for all he was worth. As they ran past the corn crib, old wacky joined in, running and barking after cloudy. We all ran after them but, too late.
Cloudy ran full bore toward the wire fence, saw it and slammed on his brakes. Poor Darl was catapaulted over cloudy's head and right into the fence. "Ya kilt 'im" gramps yelled at Ike as we all ran to Darl's aid. Cloudy had retreated to a far corner of the barnyard and Wacky started tugging at Darl's leg. We got darl untangled from the fence and dad carried him to the house. I hung around for the dabbing of home-made whiskey on Darl's cuts and scratches. He looked like a mummy after mom and granny bandaged him up.
Well, Ike was on the s**t list for awhile and I was forbid going anywhere with Ike for some time. The old folks are gone now. Angel married and moved to another state. Darl is still truck driving, far as I know. Ike was killed when a chopper he was on went down in 'nam in '65. I miss him most of all.
That saturday morning dad and gramps took the truck and headed for a farm auction a few miles away. Ike and I did our usual business in town. As I headed Ike's old model "A" up the lane we noticed the truck in the barnyard, the whole family gathered around. We walked over to investigate. In the back of the truck stood a medium sized gray gelding. Gramps was grinning like a 'possum and Angel couldn't wait for the horse to be unloaded. She had already named him. "He's beautiful. Just like a gray cloud. I'll call him cloudy". "Why not just gray"? Ike snorted but was ignored.
Cloudy was unloaded and gramps led him around the barnyard a bit, then suggested someone ride him. There was no question who that would be. Angel requested a boost up. Then dad grabbed Darl, hoisted him aboard in front of Angel, telling him to hold tight to cloudy's mane. Darl looked scared and took a death grip on as much mane as he could.
Angel took the lead rope, kicked cloudy in the ribs, and nothing. Cloudy just stood there. Another kick, a "giddyup", nothing. Ike stepped forward, still clutching the quart bottle of Drewey's he bought at Tommy's, for the road. Ike hauled off and slapped cloudy on the rump with a slap that cracked like a shot. Cloudy reacted instantly.
Cloudy took off like he was late to dinner, Angel did an amazing back flip off cloudy, landing on her feet. Darl, well, he didn't fare so well. Cloudy ran around the barnyard, looking for a way out, Darl hanging on, screaming for all he was worth. As they ran past the corn crib, old wacky joined in, running and barking after cloudy. We all ran after them but, too late.
Cloudy ran full bore toward the wire fence, saw it and slammed on his brakes. Poor Darl was catapaulted over cloudy's head and right into the fence. "Ya kilt 'im" gramps yelled at Ike as we all ran to Darl's aid. Cloudy had retreated to a far corner of the barnyard and Wacky started tugging at Darl's leg. We got darl untangled from the fence and dad carried him to the house. I hung around for the dabbing of home-made whiskey on Darl's cuts and scratches. He looked like a mummy after mom and granny bandaged him up.
Well, Ike was on the s**t list for awhile and I was forbid going anywhere with Ike for some time. The old folks are gone now. Angel married and moved to another state. Darl is still truck driving, far as I know. Ike was killed when a chopper he was on went down in 'nam in '65. I miss him most of all.
Ol' Whacky
Thanks RJ. Darl was the last of the litter. Mom's lil' darling. Seems like he was always tagging along and always in the way. Lol. Ike was mom's son from another man. Ike's dad was killed in a railroad accident when he was 5. Dad and mom met at a church function. A few movie, ice skating and barn dance dates later they married. Ike was 10 years older than me, I am 2 years older than Angel, 4 years older than Darl.
Dad, mom and the grandfolks all pooled their money to buy our farm. Dad spent WW2 in England with the mighty 8th Army air corp. Being a farmer and all, he could have stayed home, but that was not his style. Gramps, granny, mom and Ike ran the place those few years.
Dad, mom and the grandfolks all pooled their money to buy our farm. Dad spent WW2 in England with the mighty 8th Army air corp. Being a farmer and all, he could have stayed home, but that was not his style. Gramps, granny, mom and Ike ran the place those few years.
Ol' Whacky
hoppy;876262 wrote: One summer saturday afternoon in my 11th year, big brother Ike told me he needed me to go to town with him.This was our normal routine. We get to town, Ike gives me some money for the movie matinee with instructions to come to Tommy's tap, a few doors away from the theater, and wait for him. I would sit quietly at a corner table and sip a root beer while Ike finished shooting pool or drinking. Then I would drive us home.
That saturday morning dad and gramps took the truck and headed for a farm auction a few miles away. Ike and I did our usual business in town. As I headed Ike's old model "A" up the lane we noticed the truck in the barnyard, the whole family gathered around. We walked over to investigate. In the back of the truck stood a medium sized gray gelding. Gramps was grinning like a 'possum and Angel couldn't wait for the horse to be unloaded. She had already named him. "He's beautiful. Just like a gray cloud. I'll call him cloudy". "Why not just gray"? Ike snorted but was ignored.
Cloudy was unloaded and gramps led him around the barnyard a bit, then suggested someone ride him. There was no question who that would be. Angel requested a boost up. Then dad grabbed Darl, hoisted him aboard in front of Angel, telling him to hold tight to cloudy's mane. Darl looked scared and took a death grip on as much mane as he could.
Angel took the lead rope, kicked cloudy in the ribs, and nothing. Cloudy just stood there. Another kick, a "giddyup", nothing. Ike stepped forward, still clutching the quart bottle of Drewey's he bought at Tommy's, for the road. Ike hauled off and slapped cloudy on the rump with a slap that cracked like a shot. Cloudy reacted instantly.
Cloudy took off like he was late to dinner, Angel did an amazing back flip off cloudy, landing on her feet. Darl, well, he didn't fare so well. Cloudy ran around the barnyard, looking for a way out, Darl hanging on, screaming for all he was worth. As they ran past the corn crib, old wacky joined in, running and barking after cloudy. We all ran after them but, too late.
Cloudy ran full bore toward the wire fence, saw it and slammed on his brakes. Poor Darl was catapaulted over cloudy's head and right into the fence. "Ya kilt 'im" gramps yelled at Ike as we all ran to Darl's aid. Cloudy had retreated to a far corner of the barnyard and Wacky started tugging at Darl's leg. We got darl untangled from the fence and dad carried him to the house. I hung around for the dabbing of home-made whiskey on Darl's cuts and scratches. He looked like a mummy after mom and granny bandaged him up.
Well, Ike was on the s**t list for awhile and I was forbid going anywhere with Ike for some time. The old folks are gone now. Angel married and moved to another state. Darl is still truck driving, far as I know. Ike was killed when a chopper he was on went down in 'nam in '65. I miss him most of all.
Shortly after this incident, dad took Angel, Darl and yours truely to town one Saturday afternoon. Dad gave me the money, me being the oldest, and sent us to the movies while he did some business. After the show, we were to walk down to the library and he would pick us up there.
The movie was a western. In the opening scene, four running horses pulling a stagecoach came thundering straight at the camera. Darl tossed his bag of popcorn, gave a scream, covered his eyes and wet himself. On smelling the urine Angel let out a "Oh, GOD" and moved over a few seats. No doubt the ride on old Cloudy, Angel's horse, was still fresh in Darl's mind. And, Darl had a weak bladder. I made him sit through the movie but followed Angel's lead and moved a few seats over on his opposite side.
On more than one occasion I would use Darl's bladder problem to "punish" him for some infraction of the boyhood code. For example, I knew, on awakening in the morning, he would make a mad dash for the outhouse. Any delay and he would wet himself. I always got up before Darl because I had chores to do. Sometimes, I would pull the throw rug under our bedroom door just a bit, enough to jam the door when I pulled it closed, knowing Darl couldn't pull it open. I got away with it the first time. Second time it earned me a slap in the head from mom.
Once, at the country school we all attended, Darl had to go to the outhouse. It was our lunch hour. While he was in the outhouse, someone propped a board against the outward opening door, locking him in. After lunch hour we all went back inside the school except Darl. No one had seen Darl. The teacher panicked and called our home, thinking Darl might have decided to go home. Not there either. Dad and gramps drove to the schoolhouse looking in the roadside ditches along the way.
Dad and gramps talked to the teacher, who told them Darl went out during lunch hour but never came back in. Dad walked around outside the school and happened to notice the board propped against the outhouse door. He kicked it aside and pulled open the door. There was Darl, on the floor sound asleep. When he couldn't get out he cried himself to sleep.
No critters were injured during these events.
That saturday morning dad and gramps took the truck and headed for a farm auction a few miles away. Ike and I did our usual business in town. As I headed Ike's old model "A" up the lane we noticed the truck in the barnyard, the whole family gathered around. We walked over to investigate. In the back of the truck stood a medium sized gray gelding. Gramps was grinning like a 'possum and Angel couldn't wait for the horse to be unloaded. She had already named him. "He's beautiful. Just like a gray cloud. I'll call him cloudy". "Why not just gray"? Ike snorted but was ignored.
Cloudy was unloaded and gramps led him around the barnyard a bit, then suggested someone ride him. There was no question who that would be. Angel requested a boost up. Then dad grabbed Darl, hoisted him aboard in front of Angel, telling him to hold tight to cloudy's mane. Darl looked scared and took a death grip on as much mane as he could.
Angel took the lead rope, kicked cloudy in the ribs, and nothing. Cloudy just stood there. Another kick, a "giddyup", nothing. Ike stepped forward, still clutching the quart bottle of Drewey's he bought at Tommy's, for the road. Ike hauled off and slapped cloudy on the rump with a slap that cracked like a shot. Cloudy reacted instantly.
Cloudy took off like he was late to dinner, Angel did an amazing back flip off cloudy, landing on her feet. Darl, well, he didn't fare so well. Cloudy ran around the barnyard, looking for a way out, Darl hanging on, screaming for all he was worth. As they ran past the corn crib, old wacky joined in, running and barking after cloudy. We all ran after them but, too late.
Cloudy ran full bore toward the wire fence, saw it and slammed on his brakes. Poor Darl was catapaulted over cloudy's head and right into the fence. "Ya kilt 'im" gramps yelled at Ike as we all ran to Darl's aid. Cloudy had retreated to a far corner of the barnyard and Wacky started tugging at Darl's leg. We got darl untangled from the fence and dad carried him to the house. I hung around for the dabbing of home-made whiskey on Darl's cuts and scratches. He looked like a mummy after mom and granny bandaged him up.
Well, Ike was on the s**t list for awhile and I was forbid going anywhere with Ike for some time. The old folks are gone now. Angel married and moved to another state. Darl is still truck driving, far as I know. Ike was killed when a chopper he was on went down in 'nam in '65. I miss him most of all.
Shortly after this incident, dad took Angel, Darl and yours truely to town one Saturday afternoon. Dad gave me the money, me being the oldest, and sent us to the movies while he did some business. After the show, we were to walk down to the library and he would pick us up there.
The movie was a western. In the opening scene, four running horses pulling a stagecoach came thundering straight at the camera. Darl tossed his bag of popcorn, gave a scream, covered his eyes and wet himself. On smelling the urine Angel let out a "Oh, GOD" and moved over a few seats. No doubt the ride on old Cloudy, Angel's horse, was still fresh in Darl's mind. And, Darl had a weak bladder. I made him sit through the movie but followed Angel's lead and moved a few seats over on his opposite side.
On more than one occasion I would use Darl's bladder problem to "punish" him for some infraction of the boyhood code. For example, I knew, on awakening in the morning, he would make a mad dash for the outhouse. Any delay and he would wet himself. I always got up before Darl because I had chores to do. Sometimes, I would pull the throw rug under our bedroom door just a bit, enough to jam the door when I pulled it closed, knowing Darl couldn't pull it open. I got away with it the first time. Second time it earned me a slap in the head from mom.
Once, at the country school we all attended, Darl had to go to the outhouse. It was our lunch hour. While he was in the outhouse, someone propped a board against the outward opening door, locking him in. After lunch hour we all went back inside the school except Darl. No one had seen Darl. The teacher panicked and called our home, thinking Darl might have decided to go home. Not there either. Dad and gramps drove to the schoolhouse looking in the roadside ditches along the way.
Dad and gramps talked to the teacher, who told them Darl went out during lunch hour but never came back in. Dad walked around outside the school and happened to notice the board propped against the outhouse door. He kicked it aside and pulled open the door. There was Darl, on the floor sound asleep. When he couldn't get out he cried himself to sleep.
No critters were injured during these events.