Month: January 2016

Dinner Guest

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Back in the mid-1970’s we rented a 35 foot RV for a trip back to Kansas to visit our families. It was Pat and I, our teenage sons, Russ and Doug, our daughter, Terri, and Terri’s friend, Susan. We cut across northern Arizona to Prescott and Jerome and then to the Four Corners and over to Durango.

We had reservations at a campground for the night and decided to have a Chuck Wagon style BBQ dinner at a place just out of town. The place guaranteed a stage show and live music along with their fantastic dinner.

The eating area had a stage and a bunch of tables with benches. We got in the chow line and filled our plates and then took a seat at the last row of tables. Directly behind us was a wood fence or wall about 4 feet high that ran all the way across the back and served as a divider between the entertainment area and the rest of the property. Behind the fence, the land sloped up and was covered with small pine trees and bushes.

We were enjoying our dinner and the show when Pat got an eerie feeling that someone was staring at her back. She whirled around to confront the intruder and found herself face-to-face with a bear that was leaning on the fence and watching us eat. Pat let out a scream that stopped the show and the whole audience turned to see what was going on. What we all saw was that bear, scared out of his mind, and running up that hill as fast as he could go! The announcer, on stage, says “Well, we won’t be seeing that bear for a while!”

Dave Thomas
November 28, 2014

 

Need Any Help?

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After retiring, Gene Maness moved to Keller, Texas. Then, after a couple of years of mowing his lawn and loafing he decided to get back to a side job that he had for several years which was owning and managing rental properties. He started looking around and found some good deals in Fort Worth in the hospital district where budding medical doctors went to school and served their internships. Medical students didn’t have much time for parties and tearing up their apartments. Also, Mom and Dad would pony up the money to rent a condo on an annual basis.

Gene found a condo complex full of medical students and the units were selling at reasonable prices. One deal seemed to lead to another and I think Gene ended up with five units. He was happy now that he could find handyman type stuff to do that would enhance his investments and give him a project now and then.

Gene decided that the bathroom floor in one of his units needed to be replaced so he spent a few days shopping for the tile and tools. He got all the stuff together and took off one morning for Fort Worth. Gene didn’t like the speed and crowded conditions on the Interstate (I-35) so he elected to take a relaxing drive down Main Street which runs north to south all the way through Fort Worth.

It was a warm and pretty morning and Gene had the windows rolled down on his pickup. He was driving in the right-hand lane, closest to the curb when the light changed in front of him and he had to stop. There was a scantily dressed woman standing on the curb, obviously a prostitute. She stepped over to Gene’s truck, poked her head in the window, and said “Can I do anything for you?” Gene looked her straight in the eye and replied “Not unless you can lay tile!”

Dave Thomas
December 7, 2013

 

The Horse Feeder

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The Horse Feeder

I went to the doctor down in Fort Worth yesterday and when I got in the waiting room I sat down beside another senior citizen. We talked for a few minutes about the big storm that was due to hit during the night. After talking that over for a few minutes we were sitting quietly with our own thoughts. I was mainly thinking of the chores I should get done before the bad weather hit. Then, all of a sudden, he says, “We’re from up in Denton and we’ve got some horses on our place up there or, to be correct, I should say that my wife has some horses on our place up there. The problem is she’s afraid of storms and especially scared to death of being hit by lightning. So, when the big storms like this one come, I have to get out there and feed the horses. Among our family and friends I’m known as the “Sacrificial Horse Feeder.”

Dave Thomas
April 23, 2008

Another Story: Griffin

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1 of 2 Another Story: Griffin

Another Story: Griffin

Uncle Will Church had a Registered Shorthorn bull named Griffin. Griffin didn’t like anybody and he had scared the devil out of me a couple of times. One day I had gone out to the farm with Uncle Dave and Aunt Rachel to visit with Uncle Will and Aunt Ella. They were busy visiting and told me to go outside and look around. I wandered over to the chicken coop and checked out the hens and then headed for the barn. It was a nice, big, traditional looking barn. Naturally, it was red and had big doors on each end with a lane down the middle so you could drive a wagon in. There were good sized stalls on each side of the lane and you could either enter the stall from the lane or, each stall had a Dutch door on the outside of the building. The Dutch doors could be opened at the top to provide ventilation or to let the animals look out.

The barnyard itself had a really stout fence around it. The posts may have been railroad ties initially and strung between them was some quality 3″ or 4″ pipe that looked like it might have been drill stem from the oil fields.

I wandered down to the barn and leaned on the barnyard fence and looked around. I always enjoyed going into the barn and smelling the hay and the livestock. I slipped through the fence and started across the barnyard. I was about half way to the barn when around the corner comes Griffin. We were both surprised and it made him mad and just flat scared the hell out of me. I was straight across from one of those Dutch doors and saw that the top half of the door was open. I took off running and so did that bull. Being highly motivated, I was covering the ground pretty fast. Of course, so was Griffin. There wasn’t time to open that door. I got there just before Griffin nailed me and dived right over it. Yuk! The stall was empty but hadn’t been mucked out and I landed in the nicest, freshest, bunch of cow pies you ever smelled. I wasn’t sure what to react to…relief that the bull hadn’t killed me or the mess I landed in. I took a handful of hay and cleaned up my arms and shirt front. Fortunately, I had turned my head to the side and didn’t land with my nose and mouth down.

I peeked out the door to see where Griffin was and saw him over in the corner staring out into the pasture where the dairy cows were. I knew he wasn’t thinking about me so I went over to the other side of the barn, dashed across the yard and dived through the fence. There was another pen with a horse trough and a spigot to get running water so I went over there and started washing up. I rinsed my shirt out and hung it on the fence to dry. By this time, I’d been spotted through the window and Uncle Will, Aunt Ella, Uncle Dave, and Aunt Rachel all came out to see what kind of trouble I was in. And, as soon as they found out, they all started laughing and kept it up until they practically choked. I’m sure I was beet red in the face. As you can see, some 65 years later, I still remember it well.

Dave Thomas
December 9, 2013

 

Ed Lietzke’s Dog

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I must have been 11 or 12 and was riding my bike. I don’t remember where I was heading but I had crossed State Street and was going east on Clark. As I rode past Doc Brandt’s house I looked up ahead and could see a dog coming toward me. He didn’t get in the street but was zigzagging across the yards and sniffing everything real good. He was a big black and tan coon hound or trail hound and was a fine looking dog. I figured he was lost so I pulled over to the curb there on the north side of the street and waited for him to come up to me. He got there, all smiling and slobbering, and I started scratching his ears. I asked him if he was lost and when he didn’t answer, I started checking the collar and tags on his neck. I got one of the tags turned around where I could read it and it said, “I am Ed Lietzke’s dog, whose dog are you?”

The dog was itching to go and I turned him loose. I figured that everyone in town knew Ed Lietzke so he would get home okay.

Dave Thomas
November 15, 2015

 

The Black Cat

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This one was probably 45 or 50 years ago, when the kids were young. We all liked cats and had several of them. Also, it seemed that when anyone dumped a cat in the neighborhood it ended up at our house.

One day, this young, black tomcat showed up. He had a beautiful, shiny, black coat and a sunny disposition as well. He seemed very smart and loved to be held and petted. We took him in and thought that since we already had too many cats we should try to find a home for him.

Over the next few days we all enjoyed having this guy around but discovered that when it was time for a bowel movement he would always do his job in the fireplace rather than the litter box. We kept our eyes open and if any of us spotted him heading for the fireplace we would grab him and deposit in the litter box. We tried for several days to teach him, but it just wasn’t working. That settled it, and we decided there was no way we could keep him. He had to go.

Soon after, Pat was at work and one of the men said that his wife and kids were bugging him to get a kitten. Pat says “We’ve got a beautiful young male, only a few months old that was dropped off in our neighborhood. He’s got a beautiful black coat and loves kids and loves lots of attention.” Her co-worker says “he sounds perfect and I’d like to have him.” So, the next day, Pat takes the cat to work and gives him to the guy. A few days later, she sees the guy and asks him how the cat is doing. “Oh”, he says, “he’s such a beautiful cat and we all just love him!” Then, he says, “There is one thing…” Pat tries to look cool and unknowing as she asks “What would that be?” “Well”, says the guy, “we can’t keep him from crapping in the fireplace!”

Dave Thomas
`July 13, 2014

 

Company For Breakfast

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Pat and I had gotten up just a few minutes before and were just sitting down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. We heard a noise outside and Pat got up and opened the curtains. There was a donkey with his lips almost against the window. He must have been as startled as we because he cut loose with Hee-Haw, Hee-Haw and it was loud enough to shake the house! We recognized the donkey as the pet of the Noble family that lived several houses up the hill from us.

We had been visited by the donkey a couple of times before. We had a Shetland pony for the kids that we kept in a corral next to our back fence. In the previous visits the donkey had come down the back fence- line but for some reason this time he had come down the street. I had my jeans on and was wearing flip-flops or thongs or shower shoes or whatever you call them. I went out to the shed and got a lead rope and came back and snapped it onto the halter the donkey was wearing. I headed for the street to take him home and he was well-mannered and led on a slack rein, walking beside my shoulder.

We got to the street and started up the hill but it was tough going for me. The asphalt streets in our development had been sealed a couple of days before and then a fine layer of sand had been spread on them. The footing wasn’t that good and I kept scooping up sand with my flip-flops. I was relieved when we got up the hill to the Noble’s house. However, about this time, the donkey must have realized he was almost home and he snorted and whirled around and started running back down the hill. I dug in my heels and yelled “Whoa” as I held onto the end of the lead rope. It was a wasted effort! That donkey was going downhill as fast as he could go and I was out on the end of that rope with my heels dug in and looking like a water skier on a slalom course. Our wild ride finally got us to the bottom of the hill and as we got to our house, I could see Pat in her pajamas and housecoat out in the front yard pointing at us and laughing like a crazy woman. The donkey stopped and I looked back up the hill and here comes Noble, laughing. He was kind enough to say that he had seen the donkey escape but had to get dressed before he could come out. As you have read, I got no respect at all. It may have been caused by the donkey but I made a complete ass of myself.

Dave Thomas
July 13, 2014

Republish date November 1, 2018

 

A Real Homing Pigeon

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Our son, Doug, brought home a wounded pigeon. The poor bird had evidently been hit by a car and suffered a broken wing. The tip of the wing dragged the ground and it appeared to have been broken right at the joint. Doug was always bringing home creatures that needed some kind of help and he enjoyed doing what he could for them. He knew that if this pigeon couldn’t fly it was doomed and would either starve or be killed by a predator.

Doug was really determined to help this bird and his Mom, Pat, got caught up in his enthusiasm and wanted to help also. She scrounged around the kitchen and found some Popsicle sticks that could be used as splints. She and Doug manipulated the wing and got it into as normal a position as possible and, using the Popsicle sticks and gauze, bound it in place. Doug found a box and made a home for the pigeon on the patio where it would be safe and then he fixed it up with bowls for food and water.

What I haven’t told you yet is that this was the ugliest pigeon we had ever seen. It was white with black splotches all over. It was kind of like a Dalmatian but the spots weren’t as nicely done.

The pigeon lived in its patio home and did well as Doug kept it supplied with food and water and checked on it regularly. It walked around in its cage, dragging that wing tip, but looking pretty spry otherwise. I don’t remember how long it took for that wing to mend but one day he was ready to fly. After a couple of days of practice, it took off and didn’t return. We all felt pretty good. A wounded creature had been patched up and sent back to the wild.

Time passed and we thought no more about our pigeon guest. However, one day, Doug comes in and announces that the pigeon is back! It was an eye-opener for us to think that over a period of weeks or months this bird had remembered where he found safety and was fed and cared for and it made such an impression that he returned. Pat and I went out and sure enough, there is a spotted bird walking around on the patio with one wing tip dragging. Doug got food and water for him and he hung around for a few days and disappeared again. 2

We’ve all had to scratch our heads to remember but we think that over the next few months he returned twice more. Then, his bachelor days must have ended because the next time he came back, he brought his family with him. On that day, our patio seemed to be covered with pigeons though actually there were only 5 or 6 of them. They were all white with black spots and, strutting around right in the middle of them, was this guy with his wing tip dragging on the ground. Again, something about our place made him feel good enough to bring his family back with him. I don’t know how pigeons think or what motivates them (other than food) but we all thought this was pretty neat.

Dave Thomas (with help from Pat and Doug)
October 15, 2014