A Howling Success

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I need to let you know the fine people who do my shipping will be gone the first week in September. They are both famous artists and she has her annual one artist show in Santa Fe. They are big time artists but kind enough to have their people box and ship my art. Since they will be closed and I can’t ship, I’m going to take my annual mission trip to help a rancher in need. Each year several men from our little church under the big oak go help a fellow rancher in need. Last year we went to Alpine…actually west of there and wrangled cattle on a 85,000 acre ranch.  I think we will go back this year.  I’m going to try to have some things listed while I’m gone, but I won’t have my laptop. The ranch is not wireless.

The old border rancher called me about 5 this morning laughing so hard he could hardly talk.  I was dead to the world when the phone rang. It was pitch black and it seemed to take forever for me to find the receiver.  As you know I don’t own a cell phone and I don’t want one.  I’m connected enough without a phone on my hip. I asked in my sleepy voice, “What’s so all fired funny?”

He was still cracking up. “The Border Patrol sent out a couple young kids yesterday afternoon to check on me. They were not dry behind the ears. Seems the word is out all over the area I have a pack of man eating dogs. I’ve already had the dogs kill several dozen kids and let the dogs eat them in front of their parents. The Border Patrol couldn’t understand why I was laughing so hard. I invited them in for some coffee and told them of your plan.  I explained how we scared the britches off that bunch we caught while you were here.  I guess I did a good job of acting. The word has spread south of the Border and all up and down my side of the  river.  They think I’ve gone crazy.  That I really am having my killer dogs eat people’s kids.  You thought that might happen and you were dead center on.  I think the two older boys in the group we caught were coyotes and they also believed me.  As you know they don’t care if the people they are bringing over are harmed after they get the money but they do care about getting chewed up by a big dog or dogs.”

By then I was awake. “What did the Border Patrol say?”

“Well, first I took them to the river and showed them my signs. They were pretty impressed.  Then I introduced them to the killer dogs.  The younger officer was the smartest and he told me, ‘Sir, these dogs are not killers.’  No wonder the illegals are winning.  We hire some of the dumbest people on earth to secure our border.  I explained to them that was the idea.  I know bloodhounds don’t kill, you know bloodhounds don’t kill, but the illegals don’t know bloodhounds don’t kill.  Just the name bloodhound makes them sound mean. One of the bloodhounds must have realized the situation so he walked up to the older agent and began licking his hand.  You should have seen the agent’s face turn red.”

By then I was laughing.  I asked, “How did it turn out?”

“One of the two, I can’t remember which said, ‘You mean the dogs are a ploy to scare immigrants from crossing over on your ranch?’   I explained if I wanted dogs to kill I’d have gotten Pit Bulls of Rotweilers.  I wanted to scare. I wanted to play on their fears.  I gave you credit for the idea.  The best part is they all think I’m crazy.  At least they got that part right.  I will admit when you told me to tell the family my dogs ate children and we buried the bodies, that was a hard thing for me to say, but it was the key to the entire operation. I set fear deep into their hearts and in another week there will not be a person on either side of the river who will not think it’s true. In fact by now they already know there are three dozen children’s bodies buried that my dogs have eaten.  When my lease is up on the dogs I’m going to see if your buddy General G. will sell me four.  It’s comforting to hear them at night.  Darkness doubles fear and their voices only make the fears real.  By the way we got the rest of the signs up. With the sound of the dogs the signs have meaning. Thanks my friend.”

I will admit I have a smidgen of pride with the success of my idea.  I knew the key would be to catch some and let the old man do his thing.  He is a scary looking dude. Trust me, he has a mean looking face, long handlebar moustache and keen black eyes that look like drops of coal in their sockets.  He sits a horse like a king and the  5″ rowells on his Mexican spurs  make him seem even more sinister. He did such a great job acting, I started to believe him. I started to ask him to show me the graves. (smile)

I did tell him, before I’ll come again he has to get me a real bed to sleep in. That corn shuck mattress has my back so stiff I have a hard time sitting a saddle.  He offered to pay me, but I had too much fun to take his money. Besides General G’s dogs didn’t come cheap.

When I was trying to find General G. I called his grandmother in Snyder, Texas.  Pure Texas Lady all the way.  General G. told me a couple of stories on his elderly grandmother. When she went to get her Texas driver’s license renewed she failed the eye test. Doctors did some laser work and she passed the eye test.  He asked her if she had ever taken a drivers test.  She answered, “Why no, I got my drivers license at the grocery store when I was 12.  The license cost me $.25 cents. I just keep getting them renewed.”  Not long ago a young Snyder policeman started following her. She was driving slow and perhaps weaving a little.  He followed her to her home, where she pulled into the garage. As she got out of her car he was standing in the garage. As only a Texas Lady could do she said, “What a lovely and thoughtful young man you are to follow an old woman like me home to make sure I arrived safely.  Thank you for being so kind. ” The cop mumbled, put up his ticket book and sheepishly said, ” my pleasure mam”. I hope if I live to be 94 I can be as sharp as she is at that age. She made it impossible for him to write her a ticket.

I called General G. to tell him of our apparent success.  He admitted he thought I was crazy, but after thinking it over he figured it just might work.  He told me the old man needs to go to Hollywood.  He had us both thinking he was serious about having the dogs kill the illegals.  I think a lot of the emotions were real.  His place looked like a trash dump in places. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t have some deep seated rage.

Good night my friends, Will Cooper

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