Fuzzy Nuts

There are dogs, and then there's coon dogs. Pappy's little Norwegian Elkhound was not on either side of the fence, and his legs were too short to straddle it.

Pappy got this dog from an ol' boy we sometimes hunted with, an' he had told Pappy that he'd tree. Pappy asked him why he wanted to get shy of him, and he said he had too many dogs already. It sounded good, so Pappy gave him $20 and a .22 rifle for the furry little *#%?*&%#*. (Sorry 'bout that, it's just that me and that dog never did get along. Besides, I found out later, it was my .22 rifle, he gave for him.)

Now, the most notable feature about this dog was not how he kept his nose on the ground, or how he barked. No, it was more the large, very hairy endowments he was born with. So naturally, Pappy named him "Fuzzy-Nuts", or just plain ol' "Fuzzy" for short (which, by the way, is what us kids had to call him).

As God is my witness, I tried to tell Pappy, that dog won't hunt. But then again, who ever listened to me? To tell Pappy, that dog wasn't worth spit, was like telling a logger he's yeller. Bad move any way you look at it. So it's best you kept your mouth shut when Pappy was around. I know it's wrong to condemn without givin' him a fair chance, but he had that house-dog look. Too playful, if you know what I mean. Just didn't have the look of a coon hunter.

Well, Pappy got mad at me, and said he'd prove Fuzzy was a good dog by bringin' home supper. Off to the truck he went, takin' ol' Fuzzy with him. Gran'ma and Mom were on the porch, stringin' beans for supper, when Pappy started loadin' Fuzzy in the truck. When he tied him in the back, everyone saw, he was givin' him too much rope to walk around. Everybody also knew that Fuzzy didn't have sense enough to stay in the truck. Gran'ma tried to tell him, but Pappy's always right. And off they went to bring home dinner.

As Pappy rounded the first turn in front of the house, sure enough, Fuzzy fell right over the side. He had just enough rope to run along-side on his hind feet. Mom sent my sister up the creek-path after 'im, to cut 'em off at the bridge. She made it just in time to catch 'im crossin' , so he wouldn't completely hang ol' Fuzzy. When she got there, Fuzzy was tired, and his tongue hung out to one side, but he was okay. Lucky for him, Pappy's top speed is 35mph, even on the highway.

It was late when Pappy got back, lookin' real tired, hungry and disgusted, and cussin' everything for nothin'. Gran'ma asked 'im what happened in her most concerned voice. His reply was, that ol' Fuzzy got on a hot track and wouldn't leave it for nothin' or nobody. Yes siree, that dog is still on 'em, hot 'n heavy. Pappy said, "I'll bet he's got two or three treed, I just couldn't hear 'em." Then he stomped off to the kitchen, still cussin' to high heaven, sayin' he'd find Fuzzy in the mornin'.

When he was gone, the grins could've lit up a foggy holler mornin'. I guess, nobody ever did have the heart to tell Pappy that ol' "Fuzzy-Nuts" beat 'im back to the house by about four hours.

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