Chet The Dog

Posts Tagged ‘bourbon’

Back From The Edgars

“So,” says Spence. “How did the acceptance speech go?”

“No one threw anything. I told the email story.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” says Spence. “Meaning you’ve told it better?”

“Kind of.”

“Did anyone laugh?”

“Possibly. I wasn’t absorbing things too well.”

“God almighty,” say Spence, taking the bourbon off the shelf and pouring for the two of them and Bernie. But not me: water’s my drink. I lap up some from my bowl and head for the window by the front door. Hey! Who’s that coming up the walk, dressed all in black?

Many, many thanks everybody for all the kind words and support. And is there a picture of Hawaiian pants in there? Spectacular!

Little Phil And Us

“So when was this?” Colonel Bob said. “When your ancestors came out here?”

We were at the Dry Gulch, me, Bernie, Colonel Bob. Steak tips polished off, I was lying at the edge of the patio bar in the last rays of the sun.

“Right after the Civil War,” Bernie said. “My great great and maybe another great or two grandfather fought for the South. He was in the Shenandoah Valley with Jubal Early late in the war when Sheridan rolled them up. After that – from this diary he left behind – it’s kind of clear that he more or less deserted and made his way out here.”

“He left a diary?” said Colonel Bob.

“That’s how I know I’ve got some Indian blood in my veins.”

“Yeah?”

“Navajo, to be exact.”

“Tell me about it,” said Colonel Bob.

Deena, behind the bar, poured more bourbon. My eyes closed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cl9t90y4BKs

When The West Was Young

After Bernie said that thing about being born too late, there was a long silence, like maybe thoughts were going on. If so, not by me. Deena had arrived with the steak tips – this was at the Dry Gulch Saloon and Steak House, where there’s a patio bar, all golden light now with the sun going down – and I was too busy for thinking. Does that ever happen to you?

Colonel Bob sipped his drink; he was a bourbon guy too, like Bernie. “Your folks have lived out here for a long time, right?”

“On my dad’s side,” Bernie said. “We had a ranch.”

“Where?”

“Right where we live now,” Bernie said.

“On Mesquite Road?”

“Yeah,” Bernie said. “Four square miles at one time. Where our next-door neighbor  is now was the main gate.”

“The neighbor with that funny little dog?” said Colonel Bob.

“Iggy. Yeah.”

“I had a dog a lot like Iggy once,” Colonel Bob said.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cl9t90y4BKs

No Post Today

Why? Because I just couldn’t make up my mind. Does that ever happen to you? First I was going to get back to the story of Colonel Bob’s son. Have I actually even started it? But it’s pretty complicated, and while I was sorting that out, this discussion broke out between Bernie, Spence, and Admin. Those hardly ever happen and they never go well. Bernie had a glass of bourbon, Spence had a beer, and Admin drank water. Hey! Just like me. Admin and I have something in common! I’ll try to think of more in-common things. Maybe some other  time. But meanwhile this discussion was all about killer whales. It got a little heated, for example, Admin saying, “Notice the killer part, right in their name? Combine that with the equivalent of locking them up in a tiny cell and what have you got?” I didn’t know, had no idea what was going on. Then I remembered that Bernie said there’s some kind of question down below about Nance. Nance? Isn’t she breaking rocks in the hot sun long about now? What comes first, the trial or the rock breaking?

See how confusing this is? So no post today. What’s that over there? A nice little patch of sun on the rug? Hard to resist. In fact, impossible.