Resting the old fiddle across his lap he took one final draw
off his cigarette and thinking one day 'I am gonna have to quit
these things'.
The night was coming alive with lights from the fireflies as he watched the
little pup next door run and play. With a sigh and a yawn he leaned back in his
swing and closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of the night.
His mind seem to wander back to a much happier time, wondering had it really
been that long ago ?
He remembered that night so vividly when his daddy brought home a little dog
that was scared to death and just laid on the front porch of the family home. He
decided to name him Bozo, as to why he couldn't recall. He only knew he loved
him and he was one heck of a dog. Bozo was just a mix breed of collie and walker
hound with the color
of a collie.
One night, Bozo tagged along on his very first coon hunt. Not knowing what to do
when the coon fell from the tree, Bozo just gawked with a puzzling stare, and
commenced to sit on the dead coon. That was only the first of many nights they
shared coon hunting.
Bozo would sit and listen while his master learned to play the guitar and sing.
He would patiently wait for him to finish, and never once interrupted with a
bark or a whine.
Some days, Bozo's best friend named Tramp from down the street would come by and
they would team up on a hunt, or just lay around and be lazy.
Then one day, daddy brought a new dog home named Rex, who was the worst trouble
maker Bozo had ever seen. He would pick a fight with other dogs, and then run
home with his tail between his legs, so that Bozo and Tramp could take up for
him, and of course the fight was on.
Yep Old Bozo was the boss
of Weekly street .
The creaking and swaying of the old swing had rocked him into a deep restful
sleep as memories filled his mind of walking along the bayou's edge with a
fishing pole and
Bozo by his side. They would spend
hours hoping to catch
at least
one little fish.
There was old Bozo all excited and
jumping up and down as he watched while each fish was caught. One day while out
fishing, Bozo's master had jumped from the bank to a mud flat at waters edge,
but quickly realized he couldn't get back up to the top of the bank, because of
the slippery mud and had nothing to hold onto. Somehow Bozo dug his front paws
into the bank as to brace himself, while his master was able to pull himself up
by grasping onto
Bozo's
front legs.
He could not ask for a
better friend and companion. He sure loved that dog
The day arrived for him to leave home and join the Navy, which meant he'd be
gone for a long time. When he arrived home on his first leave, he learned Bozo
had just died. Folks just said Bozo had grieved himself to death. Maybe it was
just his time to go, as he was growing old and had lived a long and
eventful life.
No telling how many little ones he had running around the neighborhood. How I
wish I would have kept one of his children or grandchildren. What a dog!
Suddenly the ringing of the phone awoke him from dreams of his beloved
companion. Scratching his beard and sighing deeply, he thought, yep those were
the days .
Thank you Bozo my friend.
Hearing a bark from the pup next door he could have swore
he saw old Bozo in the shadows giving him a wave as he
disappeared into the night
