Seajay
Well-known member
- Joined
- Nov 7, 2011
- Posts
- 448
The truck was running perhaps sixty miles per hour and just as it got to where Whiskey was standing the driver swerved to the right and hit her full force. The man had done this on purpose and for no reason what so ever. I immediately ran across the road to see to Whiskey. In the process I got a good look at the truck and memorized the last three numbers of the license. 313 on what looked like a Texas plate. Black truck with a big light bar......... At the top of my lungs I cursed the man to everything I could think of. I cursed his family, all his kin his children and his wife. I swore vengeance upon him if I ever got the chance to hurt him. I believe that if I would have had a gun, I would have shot him on the spot.
I scrambled over to find Whiskey. She was laying probably six feet back in the ''scrub''. One look in the fading sunlight told me she was probably dead. I sat down beside her and lifted her head over to my lap and just held her. She looked up at me and ''thumped her tail three or four times'' on the ground and then she breathed no more. I came apart like a cheap watch in a washing machine. All I could do was hold her head and cry.
I sat there holding her head for a long time. Crying, cursing, swearing vengeance on this person. I finally got up and took the dead dog in my arms and carried her to the cabin. I explained to the guys what had happened.
Whiskey slept on a ''sarape's'' over in the corner of the cabin so we carefully wrapped her in her ''bed''. We used half hitches to secure the blanket around her body. We went out behind the tack house and dug a hole about three feet deep and gently put her inside. We covered her over with dirt and then I layered a covering of large stones on top of her grave. This was to keep out the wolves and coyotes.
I sat out by the grave for a long time that night, just sitting and remembering.
I know it is stupid but I still sometimes get sad when I think about Whiskey.
The next day we started moving to Union Cow Camp. I mostly just went thru the motions without saying much.
Every evening I would go looking for strays. I would go by myself and just wander the hills. Art knew I was looking for the poacher's truck and he refused to loan me the 30/30 Marlin or the 44 Remington pistol.
On our next to last day at Union I found the truck parked on a logging road. I did not vandelize the truck in any way but, on the drivers side window, I wrote ''VENGANCE IS MINE'' in the dust on the window. I knew it was the right truck because Whiskey's hair was still stuck in the grill.
We came down out of the hills and back to Jim's parents ranch for a day or so and then headed out to Denver and then on the military hop back to Andrews AFB and home.
A couple of weeks later Letra sent me a letter telling about a bad wreck of a black Texas pickup coming down the mountain on Cotton Wood Pass. It seems that this truck blew a right front tire, lost control due to excessave speed and kinda ''rolled down the mountain''. No one was killed but the driver and the passenger got really banged up, as it were........ Really sad, but stuff happens some of the time. It was later discovered that something had cut a deep ''V'' on the inside of the tires side wall and that this had probably caused the blowout and subsiquent wreck.
Taylor Park is, or was a little piece of Heaven back then. I googled it and looked at some pix and found all four wheelers, tourest cabins, noise, pollution, and pix of idiots riding four wheelers in some of the best trout fishing streams you can imagine. I did not see one cow, horse or cowboy anywhere. Really sad I think but such is progress.
These are the memories of an old man reliving a wonderful time in the heart of the Rockie Mountains in Taylor Park a very long time ago.
I still think of Pie Plant and all the good memories I made out there back in 1961 with two really good friends and a wonderful dog named Whiskey...
this is the end of this series. I hope you have enjoyed sharing my memories and you are welcome to comment, good or bad, as you see fit.
I have many more recolections from my travels back then if anyone is interested.... Amazingly, these travels are what got me interested in RV,ing in later years............
God bless our troops for their service to this great nation ?.......cj
I scrambled over to find Whiskey. She was laying probably six feet back in the ''scrub''. One look in the fading sunlight told me she was probably dead. I sat down beside her and lifted her head over to my lap and just held her. She looked up at me and ''thumped her tail three or four times'' on the ground and then she breathed no more. I came apart like a cheap watch in a washing machine. All I could do was hold her head and cry.
I sat there holding her head for a long time. Crying, cursing, swearing vengeance on this person. I finally got up and took the dead dog in my arms and carried her to the cabin. I explained to the guys what had happened.
Whiskey slept on a ''sarape's'' over in the corner of the cabin so we carefully wrapped her in her ''bed''. We used half hitches to secure the blanket around her body. We went out behind the tack house and dug a hole about three feet deep and gently put her inside. We covered her over with dirt and then I layered a covering of large stones on top of her grave. This was to keep out the wolves and coyotes.
I sat out by the grave for a long time that night, just sitting and remembering.
I know it is stupid but I still sometimes get sad when I think about Whiskey.
The next day we started moving to Union Cow Camp. I mostly just went thru the motions without saying much.
Every evening I would go looking for strays. I would go by myself and just wander the hills. Art knew I was looking for the poacher's truck and he refused to loan me the 30/30 Marlin or the 44 Remington pistol.
On our next to last day at Union I found the truck parked on a logging road. I did not vandelize the truck in any way but, on the drivers side window, I wrote ''VENGANCE IS MINE'' in the dust on the window. I knew it was the right truck because Whiskey's hair was still stuck in the grill.
We came down out of the hills and back to Jim's parents ranch for a day or so and then headed out to Denver and then on the military hop back to Andrews AFB and home.
A couple of weeks later Letra sent me a letter telling about a bad wreck of a black Texas pickup coming down the mountain on Cotton Wood Pass. It seems that this truck blew a right front tire, lost control due to excessave speed and kinda ''rolled down the mountain''. No one was killed but the driver and the passenger got really banged up, as it were........ Really sad, but stuff happens some of the time. It was later discovered that something had cut a deep ''V'' on the inside of the tires side wall and that this had probably caused the blowout and subsiquent wreck.
Taylor Park is, or was a little piece of Heaven back then. I googled it and looked at some pix and found all four wheelers, tourest cabins, noise, pollution, and pix of idiots riding four wheelers in some of the best trout fishing streams you can imagine. I did not see one cow, horse or cowboy anywhere. Really sad I think but such is progress.
These are the memories of an old man reliving a wonderful time in the heart of the Rockie Mountains in Taylor Park a very long time ago.
I still think of Pie Plant and all the good memories I made out there back in 1961 with two really good friends and a wonderful dog named Whiskey...
this is the end of this series. I hope you have enjoyed sharing my memories and you are welcome to comment, good or bad, as you see fit.
I have many more recolections from my travels back then if anyone is interested.... Amazingly, these travels are what got me interested in RV,ing in later years............
God bless our troops for their service to this great nation ?.......cj
