The Winner Is . . .

Ted named his bluetick hounds Nut and Bolt.

Eddie named his spaniels Craft and Draft.

The My-Dogs-Are-Better-Than-Your-Dogs war was on.

With the dog’s help, the brothers hunted pheasants. Score one for the Spaniels and, yes, one for the Hounds.

They offered their dogs for tracking boy scouts lost in the woods, plus a few criminals. 100% success. Go Spaniels! Go Hounds!

The tie-breaker? A cougar in their hunting camp in mid-June. Nut and Bolt treed that big cat in five minutes while Craft and Draft hid beneath the sleeping bags.

Team Hounds’ picture now hangs in the Price Chopper Bar.

Sweet Memories

Our Friday Fictioneers photo prompt was provided by Jean L. Hays and posted by our hard-working leader, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

You balance beneath the Tucumcari sign, bent-kneed, and crook-backed,
harsh wind whipping your thin white hair.
Docs at Resting Arms nursing home declared you empty-headed.
Not so.
Memories of people who passed through your trading post wander around in your mind like welcome guests.
Each memory sharp.
Juanita: Spanish dancer with a chihuahua who sang “Starlight.”
Roy: Man driving his wife’s skeleton the length of Route 66.
Unique and Special: Twins joined at the shoulders, riding bikes, side-by-side.
Your favorite?
Brice: Brahma bull rider. Grinner of wide grins. Slapper of thighs.
The rodeo man who made you laugh for sixty-nine years.

An InLinkz Link-up

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Tag Along

Me and Scruffs been followin’ them ladies for days,
tryin’ to decide if we should catch up
or head off on our own.

Daddy told me to, “Git and don’t come back.”
I packed me some apples, loaf of bread and got.

Been sleepin’ under the stars.
Better n’ sleepin’ under Daddy’s ratty old roof
waitin’ for him to come into my room
after Momma goes to sleep.

Once, Scruffs got after Daddy.
Bit him on his naked behind.
I laughed
’til Daddy pulled out ol’ Scruffs’ teeth.
Then I cried.

Someday we’ll have our own roof.
Fer now we’ll just follow them ladies.