Bob Dog

 

The dog my mother Wenonah remembered from her childhood was “Bob Dog.” The Dog part of the name was necessary because Wenonah’s younger brother was also named Bob. 

Bob Dog was a bull dog. The picture below doesn’t look much like a bull dog to me, but it’s the one Wenonah identified. She was getting older and her eyesight was failing when she told me, but I’ll show the picture anyway since it’s the only one I have.         

                                                                   Bob Dog 

Wenonah’s older brother, Willie, originally bought two bull dogs. The other was named Queen, but Queen didn’t work out.  After Willie brought the dogs home he was in the yard talking to a friend of his, and Queen charged them. Before anyone could react, Bob Dog ran in front of Queen and knocked her away. So Willie got rid of Queen, and Bob Dog instantly won the trust and gratitude of the family. 

After that, Bob Dog became part of the family. He was playmate to Wenonah’s younger brother Tom and her younger sister Oteka. Grandmother liked to work on her quilts upstairs in Willie’s bedroom over the porch. Wenonah’s older sister Kaliteyo would sit with her and help thread her needles. As they worked, they would watch the children play, and later, Kaliteyo would entertain the family with stories of their antics. Bob Dog patiently followed Teker and Tom around the yard, even as they dressed him in old shirts and shorts, harnessed him to their wagon, and tied tin cans to his tail. 

Wenonah was more in charge of Bob Dog’s practical necessities, like food, which he liked, and baths, which he didn’t. Mamma would say, “Jim, Bob Dog needs a bath,” and he knew what she meant. “Sometimes I could catch him,” Wenonah said, “but if I didn’t, he would leave and be gone for a week.” Wenonah said that he went to “West Town,” the “colored” part of town. “He had a girl friend over there,” she said. 

Bob dog was big and strong, but he did have one weakness, and that was thunderstorms. Wenonah said that as soon as he heard the first clap of thunder he would run into Mamma’s room and hide under her bed. That usually worked fine, along with a few comforting pats from whomever was nearby, but one evening when the clouds started gathering, Bob Dog found himself alone, trapped in the dining room. Mamma had taken the children to the movies. Mamma’s dining room was separated from the rest of the house, and from Mamma’s bedroom, by sliding doors. They were huge, and heavy, more of a partition than doors, and they were covered by heavy green velvet curtains. They were pretty, with a fleur de lis pattern embroidered along the bottom. Unable to get through the door to Mamma’s room, Bob Dog attacked those curtains, tearing them with his teeth and with his claws. By the time the family got home from the movies, they were in shreds. 

Bob Dog also possessed that supernatural connection to the family members that some dogs seem to have. When Wenonah was at OU, and would ride the bus home for a visit, Bob Dog always met her as she walked home. Somehow he knew she was coming. Oteka said he met her too. 

Bob Dog met with an untimely end. With Wenonah, Bob, and Tom away at school, and Kaliteyo and Oteka married, he spent more and more time away from home. One day he came home cut in several places and bleeding. It was his last trip to West Town. Bob Dog died in Mamma’s arms.  

We Cried and Kissed Little Forkerberry Goodbye

While I'm writing stories for this blog I'm also working on a larger story about our family. This is what my mother wanted me to do, and it's why she spent so much time dredging up her memories, some of which were painful to her.

Right now I'm working on a chapter about Jim's mother, or "Mamma." Jim's life and those of her other siblings too, were largely shaped by their mother's influence. Jim said to me once, "Mamma was my moral compass."

I found a scrap of paper among Jim's keepsakes entitled "My Creed." It was in Mamma's handwriting.

My creed in life is to be independant. & not be any trouble to any one. Be good to animals. such as Birds, Squirrels, & doggs. I like children. I love art. & flowers. love friends. I've just finished reading The Case of the Velvet Claugh by Earl Stanley Gardner.

And that's just how Mamma was. I don't think anyone could improve on her own description of herself.

Mamma spent most of her childhood, from the age of about seven until she was eleven, on a farm near Palmer Station, Arkansas. Mamma was like Jim in that she could remember vividly details from her past, and she especially loved to tell stories about Arkansas. Jim said, "We were always trying to get Mamma to tell us stories about her childhood."

All of Mamma's children were devoted to her. Every summer Jim's younger sister Oteka would drive up to Pauls Valley from Texas with her younger son Steve, and they would spend a couple of weeks there with Mamma. Of course while they were there the rest of us would go down to visit also. In the summer of 1958 Aunt Oteka and Steve made their usual trip to Pauls Valley, but this year they had a special plan. They were going to take Mamma to Palmer Station, Arkansas, her childhood home.

Mamma was excited about the trip. She wanted to find her father's farm, her older sister Cora's home - Cora was married while they lived there - and she wanted to see if she could find any descendents of the old pioneers she remembered. Mamma was anxious to visit the cemetery to look for the graves of her brother Luther and her sister Eula who had died there. Last but not least, she wanted to take some plants back with her to Pauls Valley that would remind her of Arkansas, like Jack-in-the-pulpits, blackberries, and paw paws.

So Mamma made arrangements with Uncle Haskell to feed her chickens, her dog Spot, and her parakeet, and after she made sure the gas was turned off, the little group left for Palmer Station. When they arrived they discovered there was no longer a town there, just a fork in the road with a couple of houses, so they got rooms at a motel in nearby Searcy and started asking around to locate land marks and old timers. The landmarks Mamma remembered, like houses, big trees and hills, were either long gone or impossible to identify. They did find an old cemetery that might have contained Luther and Eula's graves, but there were no identifiable markers.

Nothing, howeve, could dampen Mamma's enthusiasm. She talked to everyone she met, asking about the old houses, the old cemetery and the old pioneers. Steve said that she filled their trunk with plants. Mamma would see a plant at the side of the road and yell for Oteka to stop. Then they would all get out of the car and wade through the bushes to get to the plant that Mamma wanted. Steve said that one time Mamma disturbed a snake with her shovel, causing the little party to high tail it back to the car while the snake slithered off into the grass.

To me the best thing about the trip was how it pleased Mamma to be 'home' again. Here is a letter that she wrote to Oteka shortly after returning to Pauls Valley. You can just feel the excitement in her words as her memories of Arkansas gush forth.

Dear Oteka,
it is going to rain. but the Birds are singing. & I have put feed out for them & fed my pets in the House. My Pidgeons on my Porch are a pare, because one crokes & the other does not. it is so cloudy and damp. I hope it will save my Ark Rose bushes. I am glad I got to go back to Palmer Station I must have been tirable happy there. I don't believe that we were on the rite place where Eula was Burried they have changed those Roads & I don't believe that we were far enough out. they had Country Roads & not verry good ones at that. we went to Mr Scruses grave all rite the House that Sister Cora lived in, also. but I think Papas place was on the opside (opposite?) Side of the road. that is still a cotton country. some day if I live I am going back. this was a flying visit. it sure made old memories come alive. in early spring will be a good time to go. Haskell is just as anxious as I am. I would have to be there several days because things have changed and people have passed away. but that old cypress will remain the same. Henry Morris who married Sister Cora was born & raised in Marvil & his people are burried there. I love those first memories. Sister Cora lived in Hide Park & Kittie Staid with her & went to School at Hide Park. & I was alway jellous because I did (not?) Get to go there to. Papa had a Friend by name of Fitzpatric who lived in Helena. he is the (one?) Who sent me the little Bantam Chickens. we also had a little dog. I think that he was lost & came to our House. his master had died & Papa sent little Forkerberry to the mans wife & we cride kissed little Forkerberry goodbye.

She Cried Like Mamma Was Whippin' Her with the Ironin' Cord

I don't want to imply that Jim and Bob got away with fighting and breaking the glass in the back door without any punishment. Mamma tried her best to make them behave. Jim said that she gave them a lot of spankings, mostly for fighting.

All of Mamma's children got spankings, and the younger children sometimes got advice from their older siblings on how to avoid punishment. Jim said that Snip told Haskell if he cried real loud during a spanking Mamma would feel sorry for him. I doubt if this worked more than once or twice.

Jim's brother Bob had a little dog named Ring that was protective of him, and she said, "Ring would try to take the switch away from Mamma when she spanked Bob, and she would get tickled and stop."

Mamma had different levels of spankings. When the children were little she would hold their heads between her knees and slap their bottoms with her hands. As the children got older she used a switch. Since Jim and Bob were always together, they usually got spanked together. Jim said, "Mamma would tell each of us to go get a switch for the other. I would get a normal sized switch and Bob would pick out a 'limb' for me." Mamma's youngest children, Oteka and Tom, got into trouble together too, and although it was Jim's opinion that they got off easily, Oteka told the same story about Tom.

For the worst offenses Mamma would get out the 'ironing cord.' This was the removable cord that connected the iron to the electrical socket. The ironing cord was strong; it was narrow enough to sting, and its surface was rough enough to scratch the skin. The ironing cord would bring tears to even the toughest of Mamma's boys.

Once when I was little my Uncle Tom and Aunt Kaliteyo went to the show together. They were both single and sometimes they would double date. The next day they were both over at our house and Tom was teasing Kaliteyo about crying in the movie. He said, "Kaliteyo cried just like Mamma had been whippin' her with the ironin' cord."