Fixing stuff, myself included…
Comment Tag
Okay, I might manage to post something if I can stop playing comment tag with Chad.
Continued from yesterday:
For what seemed along time the farmer just stared at us, the little dog on the rope, and the horse standing behind us. He called out to his wife, “June, come see who’s at the door.” June arrived at the screen door complete with apron, and flour on her nose and hands. “These here two girls are looking for a job”, he said. “Well” she said smiling, “maybe they can help me out in the kitchen a bit, but we can’t pay much of anything”. “Oh no” we said, “we want to work outside with the horse, and we don’t need any money.” “Humph” he said, “I don’t think rightly of girls doing farm work”. Trish piped up, “We won’t be any trouble; we’ll do whatever you tell us”. “I’m not promising anything, but you come on by on Saturday, and I’ll see if there’s anything you can do. But don’t be bringin that dog; Sue don’t usually like dogs.” “Who’s Sue?”, I said. Finally he smiled and said, “That there horse you gots hanging out behind you.”
Trish and I got home an hour later than when we were supposed to. No problem for Trish; her mother worked, and wouldn’t know what time Trish got home. However, I saw my mother waiting out in the yard for me as I came over the hill. I knew she was going to be mad, because I was late. Little kids don’t get it they’re mad, because you scared them, your parents I mean. So into the driveway, I come pulling the, now hungry little dog along with me. “You know your father won’t let you have a dog, but lets hook him up to the clothes line and give him something to eat.”
“Maybe daddy will like this one”, I pleaded with my mother, as we rummaged through the refrigerator for something the dog would like. “Why doesn’t daddy like dogs anyway?” I asked. “When he was little like you he got bitten by a dog, and had to have lots of shots in his stomach.” “In his stomach?” “That’s what happens if they think a dog might have rabies and they can’t find him.” “But this dog doesn’t have rabies.” “Here” she said, “take this out there and give it to him.” I peered down into the bowl, “Are you sure dogs like mashed potatoes?” My mother gave me her most I know everything look, and said, “if they don’t have rabies they like mashed potatoes.”
To be continued…