Old Blue
By Karen Smith Carr

"Daddy, why did Old Blue up and die on us like that?" Jack asked his father while choking back his tears.

"Well son, dogs die..Old Blue was gettin' up there in years" his daddy replied.

"But he was the best hunting dog in six counties. He could tree a coon faster than greased lighting...and I really loved him, really!" Jack sobbed.

"Now, we'll have none of that. Christmas is coming up soon, and maybe you'll get a new pup to train." Jack's daddy was fast losing his patience. See, back then, things died and people just accepted it and went on. Dogs died, horses died, even people died, and you just carried on. It was all part of life. Things were tough and there was no time to cry over one dog when there were chores to be done and mouths to be fed.

"Jack, you go on and get the bucket. I need you to go down to the creek and bring back some wash water. Time to get cleaned up for supper. Your mama's a waiting" Jack's dad prodded him in the direction of the barn. Now, I told you things were tough back then. They didn't have no runnin' water..no indoor plummin'..not a thing. Water had to be fetched from the creek four or five times a day. More, if you had a notion to bathe that day.

Now Jack, being the good boy he was, ran on along and got that bucket, snifflin' the whole way. It was a pretty good hike down to that creek but Jack knew he had to hurry. He followed the well beaten path that led to Goose Creek. It really was a pretty little creek. Water as clear and cold as you could stand it, and there was even a few swimmin' holes for the summertime. It was about late September, still warm , but too cold to swim. The first real cold snap hadn't even come yet.

Jack had his bucket in hand as he knelt by the creek. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of a white tail. Jack stood up, and there was Old Blue. Blue pawed the ground only a few feet away, as big as life itself!

Jack cried out, "Blue, boy, you're gone! I buried you myself just a few hours ago!" He was a thinkin' he must of buried his poor dog alive when Blue took of like a shot through the woods. Jack dropped his bucket and took out a runnin' after his dog. Blue didn't seem as solid anymore. He ran plum through a old sycamore tree.

Well, at this time, it dawned on Jack; "Old Blue's a ghost, for sure!" he thought. Jack felt a tear slip down his cheek as he gave up his chase. But he wasn't scared none. Jack was just glad to have seen Blue one last time. He made his way back to the creek. Jack bent down to pick up his bucket and curled right around the handle was the biggest cottonmouth he ever did see. He backed up real slow and realized that he had knelt right next to the hole where that cottonmouth was going to spend the winter. Jack knew then that Old Blue had come back to save his life. If he'd a bent down any further, Jack would of been snake bit. He just left his bucket a layin' and ran as fast as he could back to tell his daddy how he'd seen Old Blue one last time.

Now, this story ain't no tall tale..you just ask my daddy!