By Veracity O’Haney
Recollected and presented by Veracity O’Madden
April 5, 1980
I remember a story my grandfather told me once; well, actually, I remember a lot of stories he told me – he called himself “Veracity,” to lend credance to these stories he tells his grandchildren.
Well, as I was saying, I here repeat the Story of Ole Blue, as he told us by the grand fireplace in Haney’s Castle in the Land of LawCo.
As you might suppose, it is about a dog named Blue and he was a huntin’ dog. It does seem that a lot of folks from the hills and mountains along the Great Ohio named their huntin’ dogs Blue. Go figure.
In any event, it seems when he was a youngun in that wondrous land he was out hunting one day, rabbits if I remember correctly, getting on in the years that I am, and anyway, Blue was hollerin’ and bellerin’ up a storm as befit the good time that old dog was having chasing those whily rascals as it had been a good bit since he had been out riding the land of them as it had been raining a good bit at that time.
Ole young Veracity said that it was a Sunday and he know’d he should have been in ‘going to meetin’’ but the sun had come up so bright that he stole out early with Blue and decided to do his worshipping oout in the woods scarin’ up rabbits and squirrles.
As I was saying, Blue was running every which where, running this way and cutting back that way – just having a plain good time out in the morning sun flushing out rabbits, birds and anything else that had decided to take it easy and warm themselves in the early morning sun.
Well, Veracity weren’t but a bout ten but had had been hunting with his dad, Adonirum Judson, since he was three and so before long he and Blue had quite a few of the unfortunates in the bag when behind a felled tree came the most God awful scream he had ever heard!
He ran voer to that tree as fast as he could as just before Blue has bolted at high speed in that direction.
As he cleared the felled tree he stopped dead in his tracks.
Blue was halved completely in two from his nose all the way down to the end of his tail.
It seems that blue had jumped the log after the rabbit and had run dead over the axe that my story teller had inadvertantly left embedde in fallen trunk.
And that is where the sin lay.
It was bad enough having a hunting dog halved but boy! when his pa found out about him leaving the axe out, Lord have mercy!
He could return the axt to the shed where it should have been but still he had the family dog now split in two to explain and there weren’t no explanation but the truth that would fit. And being raised as he was, if asked, the only thing that would come out of his mouth was what had actually happened.
Well, he had to do something and do it fast.
The first thing to do was to get old Blue and that weren’t going to be easy.
It seems that he had caught that rabbit after he had been halved and now both of him were fighting over the rightful ownership of the unfortunate rodent, which showed how stupid that dog was, for it belonged to him no matter how many there were of him.
After first snatchin’ up the rabbit, my grandfather picked up both of Blue and stuck each side under each arm and headed back to the house.
He had a little time for he knew that everyone should be at church (which he was not), knowing his mother as he did.
Halfway to the house he remembered his friend Cory. Cory and him were pals and he knew Cory would be home because he had told him once that his father was an atheist and didn’t believe in going to church. Cory like animlas and had often hurt critters and put them back together agains and if anyone could git Blue back in one piee Cory could, but he had better hurry because church was getting out soon and Blue was fighting up a storm with his stupid self in grandpa’s young arms. Dumb dog.
Well, Cory did good.
He got out his sewin’ kit and stitched old Blue back together again. Then Veracity got a curry comb and covered up the stitches with Blue’s fur.
It didn’t do no good though.
As soon as he got home, he came around through the field to allay any suspicions, his maw laid into him. He figured on that though and took it as a matter of course.
What killed it though was his daddy pettin’ his beloved ole Blue – he was fond of that stupid dog, and feeling the stiches and following them down his back to his tail.
He immediately figured it out cause he knew that only something as sharp as a razor and as big as an axe could to that to his dog, and he kept his axes razor sharp.
He also deduced that the axe was left out in the field by his not too bright son and that put the topping on the cake and the brush to the seat of ole Veracity’s pants.
And, if you don’t believe this like I didn’t (brother Kevin did), you can to this day see ole Blue stuffed and sittin’ in my Haney’s Castle in that wondrous land of Lawco, scar down the back and all.