ABOUT BOBBY-A DOG-A GOOD DOG

The children wanted a dog. They had waited a long time before they found one. Cousin Lily Mixson had a female dog that was part bull dog and something else and she had a litter of puppies. She quite a few litters befor this but none had ever lived long. The boys, Adrian and Morris, were going to school at Shiloh. Arnold was just a baby. Adrian and

Morris, Bobby & Arnold

  Morris put in asking their dad if they could have one of those pups of Cousin Lily’s dog. He said No, but they kept asking every once in awhile. They had one picked out and they just had to have it. Well, one day they brought him home with them as they came from school. They had already named him Bobby. He was white with pretty red spots. We didn’t have a thing to feed a puppy but I cooked soft grits and eggs for him and he grew. One day I put sirup on his morning feeding and he went out ot the wood pile and lay like a dead pup all morning. At noon I went out to look at him and picked him up and he was limber as a rag. I was worried, those boys loved him so. I went in the house and made some soda and water in a glass, when I got back he was still laying like I had left him, so I gave him a few spoonfulls of the soda water and held him in my lap. After a few minutes he sat up and in about ½ hour he was able to walk to the house and by the time the boys were home he was ready to play.

The boys dad said, “You just as well to kill him, he’ll never be worth anything.” (Worth anything to him meant a hunting dog).  He was just a dog, not a hound or a bird dog or a bull dog, but just “Bobby”. He was a beautiful puppy and grew fast, and loved everyone. He obeyed when you told him what to do. He helped me chase the chickens out of the garden. Fe was very playful. When Charles Mixson died (from accidental drinking poison) Mr. Lasintinger, the boys school teacher from Reddick, would stop by our house on his way back home from visiting Charle’s folks and play with Bobby. They would take an old fertlizer bag and pull it along and Bobby would grab hold of it growling and shaking the bag.

Wilbur still said he won’t ever be any good, he likes to play too well. When he was about a year old, we went off and left him home for a half a day. The chickens all ran loose in the yard and I had an old hen with about 15 little biddies

When we got back, I found about half of the little biddies dead. He killed them by just putting his paws on them, I guess he  was playing with them. Well, I was mad. I took him over to a dead chick and showed it to him and gave him a good whipping ( I cried too). After that a chicken was the only animal he wouldn’t run (he learned his lesson too well).

The boys, Adrian, Morris and Arnold would go hunting on the week-ends at night. They would tell their dad we are going hunting after supper and before they were through eating, Bobby would have a possum or coon treed. They decided then he under­stood them and wouldn’t let him hear when they wanted to go hunting, and they would whisper to be sure he didn’t hear them. When Bobby was four years old their dad decided that Bobby was a good dog! He would now hunt anything you wanted him to, just show him the tracks and he would find whatever you wanted found. He was a good dog to take duck hunting. They would tell him to sit behind a tree and he’d sit there until they shot the ducks, then he’d go bring them in out of the water. He also was a good squirrel dog.

Once during World War 2, Mr. Mathews had a large patch of corn and some wild hogs were eating it up. Some men came and asked Wilbur if they could borrow Bobby to trail the hogs so they could get them out of the field. By that time Bobby was getting old (he lived to be 12 years old). Wilbur thought it would be too much for him and it was getting late in the spring and hot, besides Bobby couldn’t get out of the way of a mean hog like when he was young. They promised someone would keep up with him and wouldn’t let him get hurt. When they went to the corn field there were 12 men all carrying guns, whenever anyone passed them on the highway in cars, they’d slow down then go real fast, they had no idea what was going on--afterwards they all had a big laugh about that. Finally Bobby treed the big hog (he weighed 300 pounds) and looked like a bear-- they even thought he was a bear until someone shot him. They butchered him and divided the meat with anyone that wanted it. And as it was war times everyone wanted some. Bobby lived several more years after that. He was the smartest dog we ever had. He would always do what you wanted him to do.

Mr. Ed Rush used to live on the road to McIntosh. He loved dogs and would fox hunt whenever he had time. Sometimes he would stop by and talk, he loved to talk about old times and his dogs. So one day I told him about Bobby and how the boys thought that he understood every word they said and how they never talked in front of Bobby if they wanted to go hunting at night because Bobby would always go on before they were ready--so Mr. Rush would say, “Wilbur Mixson was the biggest lier in Marion County.” He’d laugh, it tickled him and I recon he just didn’t want to say I was a lier! Mr. Rush was getting quite old at that time and he found any excuse just to talk. The boys father was a wonderful person. His word was always good and he never said a mean or spitiful thing about anyone. He respected all women and loved me with his whole heart--and I loved him too. He loved his children. We worked hard but those were hard years for everyone. We all had malaria--fever and chills, for years until Dr. Strange helped us to get rid of it. We were happy tho when we were well, didn’t need much, since everyone of the small farmers were no richer or poorer than we.

See also Rosalie's Bobby the Dog in her 1982 diary.