Annie

The Case of the Mysterious Spotted Dog Murder

Our life with Annie, our surly, farting Dalmatian was complicated by her partner in crime, Greg, the ever-present kid from across the street.  I use ever-present in the strictest sense.  Greg’s mom worked nights.  In a casual relationship never addressed by any of us, Greg made a beeline to our house as soon as he got home every day, hit the pantry for a snack, and let Annie out of prison.  Greg was well known for investigating our premises, keeping himself abreast of what all that was going on at our house, while he dawdled about, picking things up, questioning, “What’s this?  When did you get this?”   We’d chat about his day.  Afterwards, he and Annie would go off on a ramble, since we lived in a rural neighborhood with many large wooded areas. They were a common sight, known all over the neighborhood.

At any rate, one afternoon he and Annie stumbled on a construction site, just as a human skull was unearthed.  Naturally, the ensuing hub bub was tremendous. With law enforcement and news crews arriving, Greg and Annie managed to be front and center, part of the big story. Greg was ecstatic, carrying the news all over the neighborhood, taking full credit for the entire situation.  Anxious to milk the situation for all it was worth, Greg made a hasty trip back to our house to retrieve a gag item of my daughter’s, a dummy arm and hand intended to hang from the trunk of a vehicle, giving the impression of a body is in the trunk.

Returning to the wooded area near the site of all the excitement, Greg tossed the “arm” to Annie, initiating her favorite game of “keepaway.”  Annie burst from the woods, arm in her mouth, ripping through the yellow crime scene tape.  Greg was right behind her, yelling his head off. It was like a scene out of a Monty Python movie. Annie, no novice, at being chased by shouting strangers, headed home, dragging the incriminating arm.  Winded, she scratched at the back door, still clinging to her prize.  Shortly, she was followed by Greg and a bevy of law enforcement officers, asking to see the arm.  She’d hidden in the bedroom, reluctant to part with such a desirable prize, but I brought it out for their examination.  I was so glad not to be Greg’s parent that day.

Oh, the skull turned out to be that of a Native American who’d probably died more than one hundred years before.

Not Quite the Proverbial Turd in the Punchbowl

Pooping with Brian

Annie’s Gift

Upon noticing the festive music, floral embellishments in the yard and the parade of guests, we surmised there was a wedding in the works across the street. We were vaguely friendly with the Becketts, but often went weeks without having a real conversation, so we weren’t surprised not to have heard of their plans, nor would we have expected an invitation. I alerted the kids to steer clear of the revelry making a point to walk our dalmatian, Annie, in the opposite direction, so as not to interfere with the Beckett’s plans. Annie caught a whiff of the tantalizing aromas wafting from the Beckett’s back patio and realized how desperately she needed to check the situation out.  She enjoyed a close relationship with their dog, Scotty, and realized she’d being meaning to check on him.  Like us, the Becketts had children who were likely to leave doors open, enhancing their dog’s social life.  Annie and Scotty had enjoyed many adventures together.  Consequently, the dogs felt very comfortable “dropping in” whenever the opportunity arose.  We knew Scotty far better than we did his owners. Annie had no doubt her invitation to the Beckett’s shindig had gotten lost in the mail.  She pulled on her leash, anxiously to join the fun.

I dragged her home.  With nose pressed to the living room windows and her eyes glued to the front door, she barked, whined, and cried her heartbreak at being kept from the party.  She would have scratched through the front door if allowed.  With so many guests, Scotty ran wild and free, making a trip or two through our yard, looking for Annie., keeping her desperation at a peak.

Finally, one of the kids left the door open.  Annie was out like a shot, making a beeline for the party.  She got there just in time to bound joyously around family and friends queued up to shower the bride and groom with congratulations as they emerged from their nuptials, the bride resplendent in her lace, the groom tall and handsome.  It was a lovely sight.  Annie was so overcome, she squatted in their path and presented her gift, a huge poop.  She’d been shut in too long to be denied.

Can You Top This?

I got my daughter a Dalmatian for her thirteenth birthday. I do believe that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. For about a day and a half, Annie was sweet. As soon as she got her bearings,she became a hyperactive, maniacal buzz saw, plundering and eviscerating everything in her path from shoes to the rag top on my husband’s MG, but that’s a story for another post.

At eighteen months, Annie’s hormones kicked in. Overnight, she was transformed into a nasty-tempered, sullen,farting, bitch…..such a blessed relief. One day she was sitting between Bud and Mother farting up a storm. Bud and Mother each kept looking accusingly at the other, thinking surely the other would eventually do the decent thing and excuse themselves.

Deciding to take her show on the road one morning, Annie decided the best thing for her to do was to tunnel under our neighbor’s back fence to pay him a call. Brian wasn’t in the yard, so she trotted into the house looking for him. He was deep in thought, sitting on the toilet, enjoying some quality time. Inspired by his wise example, Annie squatted and produced a fine example of her own. Though I didn’t see the actual event, I did get to hear about it in great detail.

Stories About Annie for Dog Day 2015

dalmation 2

I got my daughter a Dalmatian for her thirteenth birthday.  I do believe that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.  For about a day and a half, Annie was sweet.  As soon as she got her bearings, she became a hyperactive, maniacal buzz saw, plundering and eviscerating everything in her path from shoes to the rag top on my husband’s MG, but that’s a story for another post.

At eighteen months, Annie’s hormones kicked in.  Overnight, she was transformed into a nasty-tempered, sullen,farting, bitch, such a blessed relief.  One day she was sitting between Bud and Mother farting up a storm.  Bud and Mother each kept looking accusingly at the other, thinking surely they would eventually do the decent thing and excuse themselves.

Deciding to take her show on the road one morning, Annie decided the best thing for her to do was to tunnel under our neighbor’s back fence to pay him a call.  Brian wasn’t in the yard, so she trotted into the house looking for him.  He was deep in thought, sitting on the toilet, enjoying some quality time.  Inspired by his wise example, Annie squatted and produced a fine example of her own.  Though I didn’t see the actual event, I did get to hear about it in great detail.My daughter once had a fat, farting, sullen Dalmatian named Annie who liked only two things in this world.  The kid across the street named Greg and anything with wheels:  riding mower, wagon, wheel barrow, cars…..We’d often look out and see Annie sitting on the seat of the riding mower.  I do believe if we’d left the keys in she would have cranked it.  She’d even try to sit perched ridiculously on top of the push mower.  If we left a car door open, she’d go flying in, hopping in the driver’s seat, perched behind the wheel.  When she did make a car trip, we had to restrain her to keep her in the back.

Annie and the MG

My husband bought a red MG Midget with a rag top.  Can you guess where this is headed?  Annie fell in love with it, thinking it was just her size.  It was in really good condition, except for a dime-sized snag in the rag top just over the driver’s seat.  Bud normally parked it in the garage, but he carelessly left it in the drive one night.  When he came out the next morning, Annie was sitting in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead.  She wouldn’t look to the right or the left. She had wanted to get in that car so badly, she’d climbed on top and fallen through the ragtop.  I heard him shrieking and wondered what catastrophe had taken place.  He tore the door open trying to get at her.  She ripped by him, making a beeline for the protection of her fiberglass igloo doghouse that she had never even stuck a toe in before that day.  Bud kicked at her(I hope the statute of limitations has run out on cruelty to animals)but she made it in before he connected.  He got a huge bruise on his shin from kicking the doghouse.  She never did get to drive.

Starry Night (from Kathleen’s Memoir of The Great Depression Part 1)

imageLike most of the people we knew, we didn’t have an car, so we never went anywhere at night we couldn’t walk, except for once.  Mama got the news that there was to be a brush arbor revival in Cuthand, hosting a guest evangelist!  To my everlasting amazement, we were going!  We put quilts in the back of the wagon, since we’d be getting home long after dark.  We hopped up in the wagon dressed in our best, headed for the revival, in a holiday spirit long before dark.  I had no idea what a revival was, but couldn’t have been more excited than a kid headed for the fair!

We pulled up to find dozens of wagons parked next to a brush-arbor in a clearing, a simple roof of branches on a make-do support sheltering rough benches. Though it was summer, a few small fires were smoldering, their smoke intended to discourage mosquitoes.  Before long, the song leader got us fired up with a rousing rendition of “Onward Christian Soldiers.”  The singing was wonderful, but eventually gave way to the Hell-fire and brimstone sermon, something that didn’t thrill me nearly so much.

It was late by the time the preacher concluded the altar call, releasing us.  After visiting a bit with our neighbors, we headed for home, long after the time I was usually in bed.  I lay in the back of the wagon with Annie and John on the quilts, looking at the magical night sky.  Travelling under its full moon and sparkling stars was a gift.  A slight breeze cooled us, keeping the mosquitoes at bay.  As the horse clomped along, Mama and Daddy told stories and talked amiably.  With all those I loved around me, I never wanted this night to end.

to be continued

Annie and the Hinsons

Annie Lee Holdaway0001 (2)enlargedPictured is Annie Lee Holdaway 1941

Excerpt from Kathleen’s Memoirs of The Great Depression

To my great sorrow, Annie had finished all ten grades in Cuthand.  On Mr. Kinnebrew’s recommendation, she’d gotten a position as mother’s helper to Mrs. Hinson, his wealthy aunt who lived almost adjoining the Clarksville High School. Judge and Mrs. Hinson were one of the most prominent families in Clarksville.  They’d had only one child, Laura, who was “sweet but simple.”  They’d always doted on Laura, giving her a privileged, though very protected life.  Unfortunately, Mrs. Hinson was hospitalized for a while when Laura was about fifteen, leaving Laura in the care of the housekeeper by day and her father at night.  The gardener who clearly saw how they doted on Laura was able to woo and win her without her mama’s interference.  Naturally, she fell for the first man to ever allowed to pay attention to her, even though he was nearly fifty.  When he caught the housekeeper was too busy to notice, the old goat slipped her off to marry one afternoon.

He convinced Laura to keep the secret of their marriage until it was obvious a baby was on the way.  Not surprisingly, for the sake of decency and their daughter’s happiness, the Hinsons did their best for Laura and her family.  Laura wanted her useless husband.  He had enough sense to know which side his bread was buttered on, so was always good to her and the children, though he never worked again.  The Hinsons built her a nice house, adjoining theirs. Over the next few years, Laura had a large brood, but was never capable of keeping house or caring for the children, so Mrs. Hinson had a housekeeper to take care of the house and help with the children.  Annie’s job was feed and dress the school kids off in the morning and make sure they got their homework in the evening.  For this she got room, board, a small salary and generous bonuses.  She had to be there Monday afternoon through Friday morning.  It was a wonderful job for a high-school student.  It broke my heart to see her catching a ride in with the mail carrier at six am on Monday morning, but was the high point of the week when he dropped her back off Friday afternoon, full of tales of the Hinsons, high-school, or life in Clarksville.  She always managed to bring me a tiny gift or two, such or a damaged book or toy one of the kids no longer wanted.  Best of all, was a piece of Laura’s candy.

Any story Annie brought me from her time at the Hinson’s was golden.  Though Laura was simple, she had a gift for making candy.  Hotels, stores, and high end business competed for the confections she she’d learned early to make candy at the hand of the housekeeper who raised her.  Her husband was only too happy to serve as delivery man for her, selling all the candies Laura cared to make.  What a stroke of luck for him!  He’d married the goose who laid the golden egg!

V Mail

V Mail from on board from Neekie and EmilyThis

 

is a V Mail Kathleen Holdaway received from her sister Annie Holdaway.  V mail was photocopied mail used during WWII to cut down on mail.  Annie was in the Women’s Continue reading →

The Axe, the Snake, and the Doll. It Ain’t a Purty Thing!

broke doll headimageaxe

Though my grandpa Roscoe Holdaway worked as a farmer back in the 1920s, once he took the opportunity to get temporary work for a few weeks at a logging camp deep in the Continue reading →

The Town Hall Clock Flower (Annie Sleeps Around)

dalmatian on sofaThere’s nothing at all about the Town Hall Clock Flower in this post.  In a comment on one of my posts, Fodrambler said Google had a lot of hits on his post with mention of the Town Hall Clock Flower with a picture of Fizz, his darling little dog, so I thought I’d try an outrageously cheap trick and see if they hit on this post if I Continue reading →