One beautiful afternoon during the harvest season found Pat and I on the back roads of Granbury. It was a great day for a drive and I couldn't stay at home any longer.
The dogs we left at the house to guard the place. But Butch, we took with us. He had accidently gotten loose one time from his cage and had almost single-handedly destroyed the entire house. I didn't want to take that chance again. Besides, Pat and I love to take the little fellow for rides with us.
After putting Butch inside one of his portable cages and making sure it was properly secured in the back of my pick-up truck, we were ready to sight-see.
Butch is our sight-seeing pig tailed monkey, a relative of the rock ape family. These exciting short stories are about his life with Pat and I.
This "tail" begins at a friendly farmhouse somewhere on the back roads of Granbury. This farm was selling yellow eared corn on the cob a bargain price of 12 ears for $1.00. Each ear was about 12 inches long. Of course, Butch and I had to sample one apiece before I bought some. Each yellow kernel of fruit burst with flavor inside my mouth. They were exceptionally sweet and juicy. Even Butch "ooh-ed" for a second free sample.
I bought five dollars worth and the farmer threw in a few more for Butch. Most people liked doing things for Butch. He had a winning way about him. Maybe it was his animal magnetism.
Later, back at the house, I froze all but six ears of corn. Pat cooked them with our dinner. There were two for me, two for Butch and one for Pat.
After dinner, when the dishes were washed, dried and put away, the kids (two dogs and monkey) played in the back yard while Pa and I reclined in our lawn chairs. And there we stayed until the darkening shadow forced us back inside the house.
It was supposed to be a nice night, so I decided to leave Butch outside in his portable cage. Pat draped a bed sheet over his cage which hung nearly to the ground. In case the dew fell overnight, she didn't want Butch to get wet. Before I left him alone for the night I gave him the last of our corn to munch on.
Some time during the night a horrible scream shattered the silence. I was out of bed in a flash and racing for the back yard. No one screams like that but Butch.
I threw the outside switch and the backyard was flooded with light. I'll never forget what I saw that night.
Butch's cage was rolling over and over on the ground. He was inside wildly trying to escape. In his right hand was the corn cob I had given him which he was now using to beat a huge snake on top the head. The serpent was about four feet long and just about half way inside the cage.
I stood there transfixed as Butch pummelled the snake time after time about the head and face with his corn cob. Then his other hand shot out and grabbed the snake about the neck, his fingers digging deeply into its flesh.
I was at his cage by now, pulling the snake out and casting to the ground. Even without my help, I don't think the snake would have lasted much longer. Butch is incredibly strong and his hands are like vice grips.
I grabbed a garden hoe and quickly dispatched what little life was left in the snake. I really think the snake was after the corn cob and Butch just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It took me almost an hour to calm him down enough to bring him back inside the house and put him in his big cage. But no matter how I tried, he wouldn't give up his corn cob.
I finally gave up and went back to bed. It seemed like every time I got to sleep I'd dream I was in a cage filled with giant snakes trying to make me their dinner. Boy, was I glad when the alarm went off and I had to get up and go to work.
Duce is the penname of Carman J.W. Vance at the Crest Yard in Fort Worth.
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