Those Ole Summer Days

Yesterday was a tough day on the farm, though I could hardly say it was a typical one. See where I come from folks are honest, but you can't say that about all the folks that I've been happening to meet over the last couple days. This Saturday particularly rankles me. I'd been picking the blackberries over at Grampa's farm. We didn't want any of 'em to spoil-well that was Grampa's excuse, he's always been a bashful one about taking breaks from the chores, but we all knew he was hankering for a Saturday break from the chores, and boy wouldn't anybody be looking for Gradma's blackberry pies. My goolashes were still damp from the day before so I just wrapped some potato sacks around my boots and off we went. You can be sure as Lou Gehrig showing up that those dogs weren't gonna miss it either. Well we rambled through the patches, I caught Grandpa sneaking some here and there, but by and by those buckets sure got filled up good with the juices oozing out and berries all mussing up my clean parched shirt, careful as I was not to mess my hands all over 'em.
Well we were all delighted as heck that we'd have some pies for the city visitor, one of them all the way from Dallas, that it took a couple hours for me to realize that there wudn't any hounds brushing up against my legs. 'Specially Blue, he loves to help. Well I swear it wasn't one more minute after I started missing Blue that I heard some barking out on the outskirts near the creek. Grampa's been a crotchety fellow always and just said it's probably them finding a coon or whatnot, but I snuck over there and finally curiosity got the best of Grampa so we trekked on over there and found the huddle of dogs and they were sure awful careful with whatever it was they were looking over. They parted a way for us and what did we see but a little black puppy, a bit confused but calm as a cucumbur. Now this wasn't just any puppy: right as soon as I spied that yellow ribbon around his neck I knew just who's it was. Old Deacon Wrevright had just passed on the other day, and shame as that was, in the hussle of things after his death someone let that puppy of his out to wander around. We knew it was his 'cause old Wrevright never let that pup out without wearing a "Support Our Troops" ribbon around his neck. Well, we bundled it up and thought that, you know, this is the best time to go in. "We've got enough berries for Grandma's pies and this pup probably could use some food. " Walking back was a breeze 'cause of our excitement from a trifecta of factors: all our overflowing berries, the new pup, and last of all but certainly not least, our Dallas visitor. Duylinh was the name.
We washed up the puppy real good 'cause we knew just what to do with it: little Billy Holliday had just broken his leg and couldn't play baseball this summer. Instead, he needed a playmate and this puppy would do the trick.
About an hour later Grandma had the pies in the oven, so I sure rushed out to pump the water from the wells , finish the cornbread and set the table for the company. Finally this black car pulls up and out come this strange woman, whose eyes we sure couldn't see through her sunglasses. She didn't say so much except to introduce herself as Duylinh Nguyen, and briefly explained that she had wrecked her car and quit her job at Vonage so she needed something else to do. Well, everyone's got their affairs and I sure don't judge so we got all excited and served up the plates. She didn't eat a thing and only drank this funny "EVIAN water" that she'd take out of this queer handbag. Didn't seem right but we knew she wouldn't hold up to the temptation of the pie as Grandma came out of the kitchen with them, glowing with excitement and pride. Well, she didn't touch that at either. Instead with her bottle water she took out something she called Sourz Starbust and explained that that was the only sweet thing she ate. She wouldn't share. Well by this time Grandma was on the verge of tears but she's a graceful lady and held her composure admirably.
Wanting to change the topic, I went out to the barn to get this puppy. Now there's this old latch on the barn door, and gosh it hasn't been oiled in years. So I always struggle and struggle and by the time I get this barnyard door opened it's already made a heck of a lot of noise. Needless to say, the dogs have ample warning and stand in the entrance all frenzied up the time I can get it unlatched. So naturally I expected the pup to do the same. No pup. "Silly thing's probably playing in the hay" I assume. Not in the hay. I turn on the light but I don't see him. I clap on the wall but I don't hear him. This is queer so I figure Granpa's probably bundled him all up. I walk in and I say "anyone know where that pup is?" and Duylinh nonchalantly tells this story about getting here and she had a Louis Vatton bag (I think I spelled that right but it sure was a new word for me) and somehow this pup tore it all up. "So naturally," she says, "I had it taken to the pound."
"Well gosh we gotta get it back" I says and so I ring up the operator and tell her to get me the number of the pound, and by this time Billy Holliday's alread there 'cause he sure heard the news somehow. He's just sitting there waiting for the puppy whil Duylinh's just sitting there rolling here eyes and the pound man says "sorry sir, this puppy's done been euthanized. "
Well as Billy Holliday's bawling I see a slight smile appear on the corner of Duylinh's mouth. I just lose it and politely ask her to leave and I haven't seen her since.
Now I still think people are mostly good these days, but some people I've meet like Duylinh Nguyen sure shake that faith, but only till I look out and see the Grandmas and the Grandpas and the Billy Hollidays and Rev Wrevrights of the world. Then I see something called friendship and communities, and I see some values that people like Duylinh can never appreciate and I don't feel angry at her-I feel sorry for her.