Ozark Dog Malarkey

My neighbor’s dog Little Blackie came to see me. He was crying and in his way was plainly whimpering, whining malarkey, patting my hand then looking back at me begging me to follow him.

Plainly he was saying “Come on! Something is WRONG!”

I hurried after him. His beloved old lady wasn’t sleeping just inside the window where he could see her. I found her sleeping in her bed, not just napping on the couch by the window.

When we saw her we both danced and danced a joyful Ozark jig!

My eleven year old beagle, Julie, had taught me ‘dog’ malarkey. I knew the sounds of ‘joy, follow me, help’ and ‘feed me.’

The beagle told me a bad snake had made her sick. She knew I was crying tears as I doctored her by nearly drowning her with melted grease.

When she was better, we went snake hunting with my shotgun and ‘got em!’

Even my pet deer understood my malarkey, and I knew hers. Once a couple of hunters came out of the woods when I called ‘come home, dear! Come home, deer!”

Julie

Now, do you understand when I say the little black dog ‘whimpered’?  --Polly

Fido with us at our home on Hwy. 21

PS: I'm sure many of you currently have or have had a dog that becomes your best friend.  The dog I remember most while I was growing up was Fido. He was always by our side. I never knew who Fido really belonged to. I think he belonged to my Uncle Dempsey's family but Fido was always at our house or where ever we were.