Tuesday, November 03, 2009

My Father, the Axe Murderer

Buzzard Billy has asked us to share our critter stories. Growing up in the country, I had plenty of stories about critters. There was the time my brother caught the biggest bullfrog I've ever seen. Our hop toad family (Hoppy, Mrs. Hoppy, and the baby Hoppies...we were creative children) that lived under the back step. And the deer that wore a blaze orange vest all through hunting season. Since then I've blogged about Saddam the crawdaddy and the tomato-eating turtle.

But this one is the one that I will never forget.

I was about 10 or 12. Our dog Fido had gotten the worse end of the fight with a critter the night before. Though Fido was a small dog, he never backed down.

The next night, we heard Fido out back cutting up a shine. (That means barking like the Devil himself was creeping around for the hillbilly-impaired readers.) Dad ran, looked out the back window, and then ran back to his bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm going to kill me a possum," he answered. (In hillbilly, the dative case is still used.)

OK, dad's going to kill the possum that's messing with Fido. Makes sense. Except...

Dad didn't hunt and didn't own a gun. Possums, unlike the reputation they get with their "playing possum" reputation, are nasty critters with teeth and attitudes. Think of a double-sized rat whose mother you've just insulted, and you've got the picture. How in the world is Dad going to kill him without a gun?

This I had to see. I ran to the back window, where I saw my dad with his axe raised high over his head. That's when I realized that a gun wasn't necessary. I figured that I would be explaining this in therapy some years hence, so I turned away.

THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

That was the end of the possum. And I don't blame him for it one bit. That possum had attacked our dog, a member of our family. What if next time it was me or my brother?

9 comments:

loonyhiker said...

What a great story! Your father was a courageous protector of the family. Just imagine, that possum could have attacked your father while he raised that axe. Your father deserved a medal!!! :)

Buzzardbilly said...

Love the story! Love the explanations for the hillbilly-impaired. What an excellent way to put it! Possums are NASTY. We have a big-assed muskrat (literally, his ass is big and he eats well) living on the bottom part of our river lot. I'll take him over a possum any day of the week.

MountainLaurel said...

Loonyhiker, I'm glad you enjoyed it. He certainly was (and is) the protector. There was also the time that he threatened a wrecker driver with a crowbar, but always within the context of protecting his own.

BB, I'm glad you like the hillbilly grammar comments. I wasn't sure if it would sound condescending, and I know it had that potential for both the hillbillies and the non-hillbillies. I think possums are the foulest creatures on the earth. I've never had a good encounter with one.

Kit (Keep It Trill) said...

This was really entertaining, beginning with the title. I hope you do more of these!

SagaciousHillbilly said...

Got me a pussum in a trap sittin in back of the truck right now. gotta haul that thing over to another watershed so he duddn't find his way back here and to my chickens.
BTW: The dative case might still be used here, but most of us don't know a dative from a native.
BUT, a hillbilly without a gun in the house?! That sounds mighty suspicious.

Anonymous said...
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MountainLaurel said...

SH, it's amazing, but then again my dad is an amazing man. He's voted for one Republican...more yellow than the yellow dogs. No guns in his house, doesn't care to hunt, and thinks Fox News is a packet of lies. In other words, he's a fine American.

Anonymous said...

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Kamagra Jelly said...

I think that it is a great story but your dog are quite brave because those critter can do a lot of trouble and it could kill your dog.