upthecrick
New member
The following account is straight from the annals of my good friend
Dick,who at the time lived in the little hamlet of Birchardville,
Pennsylvania,a town situated in the Endless Mountains of the north
eastern part of the state.
The year was somewhere in the mid 1970's and time of year was
early February and it was colder than a outhouse seat that hadn't
been sat on lately..
As I recall his words.. ..this particular tale happened on a
Tuesday night coming home from a night of league bowling in
the town of South Montrose. His constant companion,and fellow
bowler at the time,was a person who we will call Jim.
Jim lived just up the road from Dick on a little,seldom used,
dirt road called California road. Because Jim & Dick were
neighbors & close buddies they car pooled together every
Tuesday night for a session of drinking at the local gin mill
prior to bowling & the return trip. This return trip was always
a lot slower and amounted to quite a few unsteady drive patterns
while making the trip to California road from South Montrose.
Due to the remoteness of both Birchardville & South Montrose
and because the return trip home was usually after midnight,
there was never any other traffic on the roads.
Now to better understand the story it is necessary introduce
to you Dick's oldest son,Ricky(who today would shoot you
if you called him that) who at the time was around 10 years old.
Ricky loved this cat,which was of the color of orange & vanilla
ice cream,and was his constant companion at the house. When
not out roaming the fields catching mice or baby rabbits(which he
always ate in front of the back door and never failed to leave a gut
pile for my friend Dick to step in) the cat,whom we will call 'Buddy',
cause thats what Ricky called him,would always be sleeping in
Dick's favorite chair in the living room. Dick tells me that he used
to collect enough cat hair from his chair to knit a pair of mittens
every year. Buddy had the biggest feet that you ever wanted to see
on a cat & you could always tell it was him by his tracks.
Anyway back to the story........
Dick & Jim were coming home that cold wintry night around
midnight and were as usual,three sheets to the wind. It eludes
me to this day weather Jim or Dick was driving,or in their case
steering the car. As they came off the dirt road and turned unto
the state highway there appeared to Dick a very sad sight. A cat
had been hit by a car & was laying squashed in the middle of the
road. As they approached Jim heard Dick say 'Hey that looks like
Buddy,some "som of a bitch" run over our cat!'. The car squealed
to a stop & Dick,because he was such a good father and a little
tipsy at the time,got out of the car and approached the cat.
Now remember I told you it was very cold that night,probably
ten below at least and Dick squatted down to pick up the cat
and put it in the back seat on the floor.The cat was frozen solid
so it came up rather nicely & Dick put it in the back.As he climbed
back in the front he said to Jim: "lets go home & I'll get a pick and
shovel so I can bury Buddy so Ricky can't see him like this".
Something bothered Dick on the short way to the house on California
road,but what it was exactly,didn't hit him at the time.
They pulled up behind the house & Dick got out & went in to get
a flash light so they could see to bury the cat. There was a spot on
the hill behind the house which Dick used for his animal burying
ground,his favorite bird dog 'Sam' was already there. As Dick
entered the living room he almost shit! ......
There laying in his favorite chair was Buddy & it was then that it
finally hit him: When he picked up the cat from the road he noticed
a pair of "nuckers" on him and he was so saddened that it didn't sink
in at the time.
The real Buddy was fixed! What a relief. Needles to say we didn't
have a burying that night & the frozen dead cat sailed away off
into the woods! A happy ending for a father and to what would have
been a broken hearted little kid...
Hope you have as much fun reading this as I had living it.
Upthecrick
Dick,who at the time lived in the little hamlet of Birchardville,
Pennsylvania,a town situated in the Endless Mountains of the north
eastern part of the state.
The year was somewhere in the mid 1970's and time of year was
early February and it was colder than a outhouse seat that hadn't
been sat on lately..
As I recall his words.. ..this particular tale happened on a
Tuesday night coming home from a night of league bowling in
the town of South Montrose. His constant companion,and fellow
bowler at the time,was a person who we will call Jim.
Jim lived just up the road from Dick on a little,seldom used,
dirt road called California road. Because Jim & Dick were
neighbors & close buddies they car pooled together every
Tuesday night for a session of drinking at the local gin mill
prior to bowling & the return trip. This return trip was always
a lot slower and amounted to quite a few unsteady drive patterns
while making the trip to California road from South Montrose.
Due to the remoteness of both Birchardville & South Montrose
and because the return trip home was usually after midnight,
there was never any other traffic on the roads.
Now to better understand the story it is necessary introduce
to you Dick's oldest son,Ricky(who today would shoot you
if you called him that) who at the time was around 10 years old.
Ricky loved this cat,which was of the color of orange & vanilla
ice cream,and was his constant companion at the house. When
not out roaming the fields catching mice or baby rabbits(which he
always ate in front of the back door and never failed to leave a gut
pile for my friend Dick to step in) the cat,whom we will call 'Buddy',
cause thats what Ricky called him,would always be sleeping in
Dick's favorite chair in the living room. Dick tells me that he used
to collect enough cat hair from his chair to knit a pair of mittens
every year. Buddy had the biggest feet that you ever wanted to see
on a cat & you could always tell it was him by his tracks.
Anyway back to the story........
Dick & Jim were coming home that cold wintry night around
midnight and were as usual,three sheets to the wind. It eludes
me to this day weather Jim or Dick was driving,or in their case
steering the car. As they came off the dirt road and turned unto
the state highway there appeared to Dick a very sad sight. A cat
had been hit by a car & was laying squashed in the middle of the
road. As they approached Jim heard Dick say 'Hey that looks like
Buddy,some "som of a bitch" run over our cat!'. The car squealed
to a stop & Dick,because he was such a good father and a little
tipsy at the time,got out of the car and approached the cat.
Now remember I told you it was very cold that night,probably
ten below at least and Dick squatted down to pick up the cat
and put it in the back seat on the floor.The cat was frozen solid
so it came up rather nicely & Dick put it in the back.As he climbed
back in the front he said to Jim: "lets go home & I'll get a pick and
shovel so I can bury Buddy so Ricky can't see him like this".
Something bothered Dick on the short way to the house on California
road,but what it was exactly,didn't hit him at the time.
They pulled up behind the house & Dick got out & went in to get
a flash light so they could see to bury the cat. There was a spot on
the hill behind the house which Dick used for his animal burying
ground,his favorite bird dog 'Sam' was already there. As Dick
entered the living room he almost shit! ......
There laying in his favorite chair was Buddy & it was then that it
finally hit him: When he picked up the cat from the road he noticed
a pair of "nuckers" on him and he was so saddened that it didn't sink
in at the time.
The real Buddy was fixed! What a relief. Needles to say we didn't
have a burying that night & the frozen dead cat sailed away off
into the woods! A happy ending for a father and to what would have
been a broken hearted little kid...
Hope you have as much fun reading this as I had living it.
Upthecrick
