ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO PRINT
AND SOME THAT AIN'T
Howdy folks! This here's ol' Pete and Rosebud comin' at you again!
Have you ever noticed how sometimes you can be talkin' about somethin' and it happens? Ain't it strange? Take dawg days like I was talkin' about last week. You know, about how dawgs get up in under the floor and waller out a hole in the dirt to lay in? Well, I hadn't much more'n got the words outta my mouth 'til here comes a dawg up to the house. I seen him on the road comin' from down towards Denver's and he spotted me and Rosebud and come trottin' right up to where we was at. Yeah, he was a friendly feller, waggin' his tail and actin' like he was comin' in home from rabbit huntin' or somethin'.
So what's so bad about a dawg comin' up to your place? Well, nothin' I reckon, 'cept that I told you this'un acted like he'd been out huntin' somethin' before he got here. And I think it was a skunk 'cause he smelled like he'd been on the wrong end of one. He stunk so bad you couldn't hardly stand him. And he got down and rolled around all over the yard. I guess he was tryin' to get the stink off. And he did get part of it off 'cause it got all over the yard. Now the yard stinks so bad I can't stand to set out on the porch of a evenin'.
But see what I mean? I say `dawg' and here comes one. I'm just glad I didn't say nothin' about snakes. If I'd been talkin' about snakes, a copperhead would've prob'ly come crawlin' outta the woodshed over there. And you've gotta watch them ol' copperheads. They'll get you. They like to hide in places like that woodpile, too. I've been aimin' to get out there and clean up around it but that's the very reason I ain't. There ain't no tellin' how many copperheads is hidin' in there. No, I'll wait 'til it's cold and they've denned up for the winter. So it's a good thing I ain't said nothin' about 'em. There'd be snakes all over the place if I had.
And I really believe that, too. You start talkin' about somethin' like thatand specially somethin' bad like snakesand the next thing you know, you look around and you're nose to nose with one. Just like me talkin' about dawgs gettin' up in under the house and here comes one down the road. And the words hadn't much more'n got outta my mouth 'til it happened. And, to me, that just proves what I'm sayin' here.
Now, I know snakes and dawgs ain't the same thing. You can't compare 'em. Copperheads is bad and dawgs ain't. The one that come up to the house here is as friendly as he can be. His ol' tail starts waggin' as soon as he sees you. I figger he's one of ol' man Frowley's dawgs. He's got a place on up past Denver's and he's always got a yard full of ol' dawgs. I figger it got too crowded up there at supper time and this feller here took off lookin' for greener pastures.
I know it's a hard thing I'm sayin' here about talkin' up somethin' and it happenin' like that. I know there's a lot of y'all out there that ain't gonna believe it, but it works like that a lot more often than you'd think. And whether you agree with me or not, the best thing to do is watch what comes outta your mouth. Better safe than sorry, I always say.
I know one that agrees with me. My mule Rosebud. Don't bring up bumblebees to her. If you do, she's outta here. That's cause me and her had a run-in with a nest of bumblebees once and she ain't forgot it. I ain't neither. We was out at the garden workin' on a fence. The rabbits had been gettin' in and eatin' up stuff so we decided to tack up some rabbit wire to keep 'em out. Rosebud was hitched up to the fencin' wire, pullin' it tight so I could nail it up. And that's when we got in 'em.
I don't know if you know anything about bumblebees, but they drill holes in somethin' wooden, holler it out and nest up in it. They'd drilled into one of the fence posts, see, and when I come along bangin' on it with a hammer, it didn't go over too good with 'em. I hit that post a good solid lick and here they come swarmin' out.
I knowed what it was as soon as I heard 'em buzzin'. I throwed the hammer down, hollered at Rosebud and took off outta there. I didn't get stung, but Rosebud was hitched to the roll of fencin' wire and couldn't get loose. She finally did get away but ended up draggin' half the fence along with her. And not before two or three of 'em got her. One of 'em stung her on the nose, right where the slick part meets the hair on her snout up on top. It swole up somethin' awful. It made a knot as big as your fist. I told her she looked like one of them rhino-noser-roses. You know, like's over in Africa.
And that's why you don't want to say nothin' to her about no bumblebees. She says she's gonna spend her time thinkin' good thoughts. About things like fishin'. And that dawg. She's got purty attached to 'im. I don't know what she's gonna do if ol' man Frowley comes up here and wants him back.
Well, I'm gonna do my part. I ain't gonna say nothin' about that happenin'. Not me. Not nary a word.
You can contact Pete and Rosebud by email at