Thursday, July 7, 2005
Ki Jones and family spend Fourth of July weekend at Pickwick
Anne Kieffer and Will Carson of Memphis, Tenn., were the weekend guests of their grandparents, Jimmye Dale and Bea Green.
Ki and Nancy Jones and children, Mary Neely and Jake, spent the Fourth of July at Pickwick.
Mary Clay and Gene Brooks and son, Grady, and Laura Wheeler travelled to Logan-Martin lake over the weekend. While there, they had a family gathering with cousins, Joe and Kelli Wheeler and children, Anniston and Hannah Mary Grace, of Norcross, Ga., Hillery and Clay OBrien and children, Austin and Mason, of Hogansville, Ga., and Uncle Charles Wheeler and wife, Pat. On Saturday, Caitlyn joined the group after spending the week at Camp Winnataska.
Birthday wishes go out to Ki Jones and Tom Stewart. Congratulations!
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My dog Hildegarde; my best friend
Some of you may remember my dog, Hildegarde, from long ago. That dog is legend to me. She was a Great Dane harlequin, black and white. Hildegarde was a house dog, a guard dog and a best friend dog. She could do everything except talk and she tried that. We were living in Gray Gables then and right out the back door was the public school, where all my children went to school. She would follow them to school everyday and I said she was the best-educated dog in the state. Why wouldnt she be, since she went to school every day? She was so smart she could understand every word you said. We would have to spell in front of her (she couldnt spell) if you didnt want her to know something. Hildegarde would watch the television and turn her big head from side to side like she understood it all.
She took trips with us and could curl up on the floor in as small a ball as was possible for her and was the best traveller. Once we were going off for the summer and she was going too but right before we left, she gave birth to 13 puppies, so we left for the summer with six kids and a Great Dane dog with 13 puppies!
Once when I was at Gray Gables without my husband, I got all the kids to bed, my bedroom was downstairs and I heard footsteps on the stair. Hildegarde slept by my bed and she heard them too. There was nothing on the stair then I head the footsteps again. There was nothing there, so Hildegarde and I moved to the couch at the top of the stairs. Again, we head the ghostly footsteps. Hildegarde went to the top of the stair and peered down, the hair on her back stood straight up. She gave a low guttural growl, which sounded really menacing. But when I got up to check, there was nothing there. She could see the ghosts, but she couldnt tell me. Hildegardes domain was the yard and when she wanted inside, she would ring the front doorbell. It was the kind of bell that you turned with your hand. She put it in her mouth and turned it.
She was intensely loyal to the children. She was each ones best friend. She was friendly to all their friends. However, whenever she didnt like one, she would give that low guttural growl and it was because some way or other, that person had treated her unkindly or hurt her in some way. She never bit nor hurt anyone. During that time, the milkman in his truck delivered milk every morning. One morning Hildegarde asked me to let her outside. It was 5 oclock in the morning. I let her out just as the milkman drove up. He bounced out of the truck with the milk and Hildegarde ran toward him barking wildly. Naturally, he jumped back in the truck. I went out onto the porch and called the dog to me and hollered at the milkman, Bring the milk, I have the dog by the collar. The milkman replied, I dont know! She got teefies aint she? After putting the dog inside, he delivered the milk.
When we were away for a short while, my mother, Bertha Bonds, who had a flower shop on Market Street, would dog sit for me. Hildegarde would go over, sleep by her bed and take care of my mother (my mother was born in 1885). The next morning, the cook would cook a breakfast of oatmeal for both of them, then Hildegarde would run home across town for the day. At night, if we werent home, she would go back to Grannys house for the night.
I had brought her a big beautiful rhinestone dog collar. It was two inches wide and must have had hundreds of rhinestones on it but they looked like diamonds. She became quite famous for her diamond collar. When she died, she was buried with it. Even dogs dont last forever. Her memory, however, is a joy forever.
Faux pas (French for mistake). In last weeks column to be corrected was the last paragraph about the horse being slain. It turned out to be too preposterous to be true, but I had heard it and assumed it was so. I called the Vicksburg town historian. He said he would check on it for me, but he didnt call back in time, the paper had gone to press.
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