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Monday, January 28, 2013
We lived in
WWII (normally, I might say “the war,”
but since there have been so many “the wars”
let’s describe the actual one.
WWII ended when I was about 5 – not quite 5 – but close. We moved to Dodge
City, KS Dodge City about this time as my dad began
working for Standard of Indiana (this company is explained at a later date as
well as his job title and job progression – which at this moment seems somewhat
unimportant). My father had taught as a
civilian ground school person during the war at Tinker Air Force Base near OK
I never knew many details, but when he came home he brought a dog – a mutt if you will. Wobblepump. Somewhere one of us kids has a photo of Wobblepump with a flyers hat and goggles looking out the cockpit of an open air army plane. I was always told that Wobblepump was the mascot of the base – surely, if he were, there would be a photo of him in some war yearbook.
My brothers may remind me later. I can remember having a dog when we moved to Levelland – and, it seems we had a cat which loved to wrestle and scar our arms. For the life of me, I cannot remember that dogs name. It would get out and start running. We lived in an oil camp of 5 houses near the gasoline plant. It would run from one end to the other and scare the little ole ladies in their yards.
At one point my father chained the dog to the clothesline – long wire – and the dog would run back and forth most of the day.
Our last dog was Koko – maybe spelled
– it never came up, the spelling that is.
Jim & I were at the local science fair being held at Levelland JH
when my dad walked in. It must have been
cold cause he was wearing a coat. In
his pocket a little tan head popped out…Koko.
She was a tiny tiny Chihuahua
– tan in color and as wide eyed as a tiny puppy might have been around all
those big people.
It wasn’t long before she forgot her size and took over the household. I would suppose she lived about 15 years – we were in college when she left. That dog had a mouth that wouldn’t quit especially if a stranger were near. Bark Bark Bark – really tough. I remember some lady visiting one afternoon. Koko was acting tough. This lady picked up saying, “You’re not so tough,” and commenced to put her fingers in Koko’s mouth. That dog bit as hard as it could. No blood or injury. Her bluff had been called.
My mother bred Koko one time. People are funny about that kind of thing. I’m gonna breed my dog and get rich from all the puppies. She had one pup. It was a white long hair
The puppy was beautiful. Again,
my folks were not ones to listen to others.
They gave that puppy to my future wife, Brenda. I think her parents did not want to take the
pup in. It was beautiful.