I’ve been inspired to do some writing lately…I need a stress reliever! Work and living in Atlanta will do that do you. So, to relive some good memories and relieve some stress at the same time, I’m going to write about my favorite topics and share them with you. This story is about Papa, coon dogs, and my husband. Although they never met, this story definitely showed him a little bit about how I was raised in the country!
This happened about 5 years ago. Friday nights, especially in the fall, are a tradition here at the Granholm house. After a long week at work we come home, relax and sit out by the chiminea in the front yard. So, there we were, it was dusk, and I kept hearing this dog bark. Now, mind you, I’d had a margarita or two, as had Scott and Dad. Scott was doing his usual thing of getting the coals ready to cook the steaks, etc. I looked at Dad and said, “That’s a coon dog out in the woods! I can hear it tracking something!” He listened and agreed with me that yes, that was definitely a coon dog on a trail. Scott looked at us and just shook his head. “How in the world can you tell what kind of dog that is, much less that it’s “tracking” something?!” I was adamant about it and the more we listened, the more sure I became. One thing you have to realize too is that we DO NOT live out in the country and it IS NOT quiet on our road. I really think Scott thought we were nuts. We sat awhile longer, and the steaks were on the grill. Traffic was going up and down the road in front of us as usual. About 45 minutes after we first heard the coon dog, a black SUV pulled off the side of the road in front of the house, and this woman yelled out the window to us, “Have you guys seen a coon dog running around here?” Scott’s mouth absolutely hit the ground. He was speechless! I hollered back up to her…”No, but we’ve been hearing him for the last hour and he’s back over that way!” She said, “My husband is going to kill that dog! He broke off his leash and is out in the woods again!” She thanked us and went on her way.
Needless to say, we kept listening and the coon dog kept tracking. About 15 minutes later, he stopped. I guess his owner found him. Also needless to say, my husband didn’t doubt any more that you CAN tell a dog by its bark and what he’s doing out in those woods. It certainly brought back many memories of Papa getting ready to go out coon hunting with his dogs, and all those nights when those darn dogs would start barking in the middle of the night and I’d yell to shut them up out the back door.
Some people might be embarrassed to say they grew up in the country, but not me. I am a proud country girl, successfully living “in the city,” and wouldn’t change the way I grew up for anything.
Love you all!