Hunting the Dogs

Yesterday, a guy in olive green pick up truck stopped in the road, got out of his rig and asked if I'd seen any dogs.

His coon hounds were on the lam, last seen on another gravel road, not far from here as the crow flies. Driving there is about 10 miles.

Several dog cages were in the bed of his truck, he looked fairly prosperous.

"If I see the dogs, I'll call you. I suppose they have tags with your number on them?" I asked.

"Yup" he assured me.

He then quizzed me if was married to a certain individual, Nope was all I said. Not a lot of folks live back this way. I was actually surprised he didn't know the whole scoop.

So, today on the way out, I saw a group of five happy dogs running through the woods. They didn't want to stop for me, so I figured either they have eaten recently, or are not his dogs.

The news warns us of dog packs and coyote packs. Hunters keep them in check around here and don't allow aggressive animals to roam freely. I love that about this neighborhood, way back in the boonies. People have guns, know how to use them, and only call 911 to let them know what has transpired.

Years ago, before I moved here, a referendum, real live vote was taken on the whole 911 thing. Reliable sources tell me the population voted it down.

The politicians didn't like it one bit. In spite of the citizens negative vote, 911 emergency numbering system was installed anyway. This goes against the grain of the old timers here. It goes against democracy. Why offer a vote if its going to be forced on us anyways?

I'm told a good ol' boy would never live it down if he didn't take care of the situation himself and instead called 911 first.

Around here, we have chain saws, guns, and plenty of stored water.

Last week we were iced in for several days. No problem, being prepared is a way of life.