Once in the night we heard an awful scream in the back yard. It sounded human. Dad said it was a "wild cat" up in that big tree. It was that lynx that later would follow us through the swamp when we were walking home from berry picking.
After a big storm we were afraid the tree would fall on the house. Did hired a man named Richard Sears to cut it down. He was supposed to be a reputable man but he wasn't. Mom told him not to let any of the tree fall on her flowers and kill them. He was supposed to only take off the top of the tree and leave the "stem" part standing as far up as she needed it to be to keep the clothes line on it.
The day he came we moved the car out of the drive so he could get his truck in there and there would be no danger of the wood hitting dad's car.
It was a total mess. The man let huge chunks of the wood fall all over the back yard including killing a lot of Mom's flowers. She was madder than a wet hen. He left most of the wood where it fell, some of it leaving deep gouges in the earth. Mom thought he might have been drinking but I think he was just a stupid sloppy man. Women were not allowed to get mixed up in men's business though. Dad hired him and Dad paid him and we had to shut up. Of course that never stopped Mom from complaining about it.
My dog Foxy
I had some funny adventures with this dog. I loved him dearly. He lived a long time even after we moved to the house in Argyle.
One day I had him on a leash and we were going down the hill towards Haynes. He was running fast and I kind of ran to keep up with him but it all got out of hand and I ended up sliding on my face part way down the hill when I got tangled in his leash. But still I loved him.
In winter I would take him for walks in the snow. Back in the house I would lift him up to clean the snow off his feet and find lots of balls of snow stuck to the fur on his belly.
When we moved to Argyle I crocheted him a hat and scarf and a little sweater. I bought him four little rubber boots for his feet. He looked so cute. Of course the first time I took him out he managed to get the boots off.
One of our many cats up a tree. I have no idea which one it was. It's not Norman.
Norman was and all orange tabby cat. We loved them all. All of our cats at that time were free range. They came in and went out when they felt like it. Litter boxes were only for tiny kittens who didn't go outside till they were old enough.
One cold fall day one of us, I don't think it was me but it could have been, went out to start the car up. No one ever thought of cats lying in the motor area to sleep and keep warn but that's wear Norman was. He let out a scream and the car motor was shut off. They ran around till they caught him, probable mom and dad. He was bleeding badly but he was still alive. They thought maybe the fan had cut him.
They rushed him to the vet who sewed him up. He lived for a few more years. He looked like he'd been in a fight with a motor which of course he had. I saw an ad recently warning people to always bang on the tire well before they started their cards to be sure no cat was in the motor. I wish we'd thought of that back then. I can't really see anyone with a fancy expensive car doing that though.
I'm trying to remember the names of cats and dogs but some of them are long lost in my memory. There was one grey tiger female that Mom found when we lived on Main Street. Nancy started calling it Ally Cat because that's where Mom said she found her. Ally was a dumb mother. Mom said she deserved her name. She would have a litter of kittens and then abandon them.
I think that's Ally that Nancy is holding.
This was probably a cat named Blackie but Sue had one called Smoky and it could be that one too.