The Great Adventure

Tabitha showed up after Peewee. She was of course much larger. She was a dog, a medium sized wheaten colored fluffy dog with pointy ears and big bright eyes. She had a slightly curved tail with long of fur on it. The tail went round and round like a propeller when she greeted you. And unlike Peewee, Tabitha wasn’t a native of New Orleans. Tabitha came from Alabama.

It all happened because the Old Man had a sister, Faye, who lived in Mississippi. And Faye had a son. Mississippi Sam they called him. He was the Old Man’s nephew.

Mississippi Sam drove a truck. He would drive up and down, and left and right from New Orleans to Arkansas and Texas and Florida and sometimes even further, trucking whatever he was hired to truck. He would often carry good things like shrimp or crayfish. Whenever he carried good things he would ask for a box or two as part payment, and whenever that happened he would make a point of visiting his uncle. This was because his uncle’s next door neighbor Joyce was such a “darned good cook”.

Mississippi Sam would show up whenever. He never called to let anyone know he was coming. But when he showed up he always brought a boxfull of goodies, and Joyce never failed to cook the best food ever. Sometimes she would make gumbo and the Old Man, Joyce, and Mississippi Sam would sit on wooden crates on the porch and they shared it with Peewee (he was a cat who actually liked spicy food!). Now and then they would be joined by one or two very lucky neighbors. Sharing was good for the soul and the heart, the Old Man always said. And anyway everyone always had a really good time, talking and singing, sometimes late into the night.

One afternoon Mississippi Sam showed up with something different. He parked his truck in front of the Old Man’s house (and in front of Joyce’s too because the houses were so small and the truck was so big). As usual. the Old Man was sitting in his rocking chair on the porch with his harmonica in his hand and with Peewee on his lap. Mississippi Sam got out of the truck and walked straight up to the porch steps. This was odd because he usually first went to the back of his truck to get whatever goodies he had brought.

“Mississippi, how ya’ doin’!” exclaimed the Old Man as he got up and Peewee jumped down. “It’s been ages since I see ya!”

It had been a good five or six months since he’d last seen Mississippi Sam.

“Ya’ll look awful empty handed, what with how long it’s been and all” the Old Man kidded with a wink aimed at Joyce (who was, as usual, on her porch next door), “but it’s great to see ya anyways!” He was always very happy to see his nephew, and he gave him a big smile and a big hug.

“Ya’ll ate it all, didn’t ya?” chimed in Joyce, returning the Old Man’s wink. She had been sitting on a rocking chair on her porch with her deck of cards. She was always playing with her deck of cards. Right now she held a four of hearts in her hand. “And didn’t even save us a little itty bit!” she joked. She too was always happy to see Mississippi Sam.

After hugging his uncle Mississippi Sam went over to Joyce’s porch and gave her a big hug and a kiss too, but he seemed a little uncomfortable. This was not like Mississippi Sam at all and of course they noticed it right away.

“Something botherin’ you Mississippi?” asked the Old Man.

“Shouldn’t be, I don’t think,” said Joyce looking at her card.

“Don’t pay no mind to Joyce,” said the Old Man, “she’s always talkin’ nonsense with them cards...” but his voice trailed away as he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Joyce followed the Old Man’s gaze. He was looking at the truck. There, in the driver’s seat, its head stuck out of the open window, sat a medium sized wheaten colored shaggy dog with pointy ears and very bright eyes

Mississippi Sam turned around and also looked at his truck. Yes, there it was, no denying it. There was a dog in his truck.

“Mississippi, there’s a dawg in your truck,” said the Old Man, “and a real nice critter it is, by the looks of it.”

“My, there sure is,” said Joyce. “And I’ll be darned ‘cause that four of hearts sure was right!”

“Is that there your dawg?” asked The Old Man.

Mississippi Sam looked a little uneasy. “I found her in Alabama,” he said, helpfully he thought, but not explaining a whole lot because he didn’t say anything more. The dog just sat in the truck looking at them with its bright eyes.

“I’ll be darned if that dawg ain’t smilin’ at us,” said the old Man as he stepped down from his porch and walked over to the truck. He put his hand out and the dog sniffed it and then licked it.

“Cute dawg,” said Joyce as she too went down to the truck to pet it.

“Real cute dawg,” said the Old Man, agreeing with Joyce (just as often as not they would disagree on things and then have a good discussion to settle it).

“Yep,” said Mississippi Sam.

“What kinda dawg is that?” asked Joyce.

“They call them terrier, I think. Wheaten or something.” answered Sam. For a moment or two nobody said anything because they were too busy fussing over the dog.

“So what’s botherin’ you, Sam?” asked the Old Man, breaking the silence, “You got the sweetest dawg in the world right here.”

“And if it ain’t yours, then who’s dawg is it?” added Joyce.

For a while Mississippi Sam said nothing.

“Well see, that’s the problem. She’s sort of mine, but I gotta get rid of her,” he finally answered. It was then that the Old Man and Joyce noticed the sadness in his voice. “I can’t keep her ‘cause I can’t take care of her ‘cause I gotta be drivin’. And momma she says she’s too old to be caring for a dawg.”

Faye ain’t nearly that old thought the Old Man, but he kept it to himself.

“She’s a stray, I figure,” said Mississippi Sam. “Found her ‘bout a couple a weeks ago in Alabama runnin’ scared next to the highway over by Pell City. So’s I picked her up, but now I can’t keep her anymore.”

“So let’s see her, let her out,” said the Old Man.

“Yeah, bring her out,” agreed Joyce (for the second time that afternoon.)

Mississippi Sam opened the door and out jumped the fluffy bright eyed terrier dog. She was not quite a year old, not grown up but but not a young puppy anymore either.

“Does she have a name?” asked Joyce.

“I called her Tabitha ‘cause the night before I found her I was in this motel and I was watching that TV show about the witch,” answered Sam, “and she kinda reminded me of the Tabitha in the show.”

“That’s a good name,” said the Old Man, “and don’t tell me you’re going to agree with me again,” he said, once again winking at Joyce.

“I think I’m gonna to have to on this one,” replied Joyce, “I do think I like that... Tabitha...” she said the name slowly to herself, “it has a good sound to it even if I don’t know nothing about them witches,” she added as she shuffled her cards. People were always claiming Joyce was a witch, and even the Old Man wasn’t sure that she wasn’t. Maybe it was on account of those cards.

Meanwhile, as they were talking, Tabitha sat at the bottom of the Old Man’s porch steps, leaning against the wood, wistfully gazing at the humans. She seemed just a little bit too calm for a youngster.

“Come here Tabs, come on up!” called Mississippi Sam to her. “’Tabs’ is her nickname,” Mississippi Sam explained, “But not ‘Tabby’. We don’t like ‘Tabby’. ‘Tabby’ is a cat.”

Tabitha slowly walked up the steps and up on to the porch. Unfortunately everybody had forgotten about Peewee, who had jumped back into the rocking chair and had been watching the proceedings, and especially the dog, with an increasingly disdainful and disgusted look on his face. All this attention being fixed on to a dog! This was insufferable! As soon as Tabitha reached the top of the porch Peewee jumped down from the rocking chair. He puffed himself up to make himself look at least twice his size, arched his back, and hissed and spit. He approached Tabitha sideways. Tabitha, startled, backed up. Peewee continued to advance, and Tabitha continued to walk backward. Soon she was at the edge of the porch and as Peewee kept advancing she had no choice: she gingerly backed down the steps. Peewee, having made his point, turned around and huffily walked away.

“Not a match made in heaven,” said Mississippi Sam. He looked even more crestfallen and sounded disappointed. “Seems like they ain’t gonna get along. I was hopin’ you might care for the dawg, for a while anyway, ‘till we find her a home.”

“Peewee’s just bein’ a jealous brat,” said Joyce. She was back on her rocking chair on her porch as she looked up from her cards. She was looking at two that seemed important at the moment. “They’ll get along in the end, I can feel it. And if ya’ll don’t want the dawg I’ll take her.” she added.

“Oh, I don’t mind having the dawg,” replied the Old Man. He knew that Joyce had a way with animals and anyway she always seemed to be right when she sat there with her cards (but he would never in a million years admit that to her). “Peewee don’t know it, but he needs a playmate,” he added hopefully.

So it was settled: to the great relief of Mississippi Sam, the Old Man took the dog. At first it was a supposedly temporary arrangement, until a home was found for her. But instead little by little the Old Man fell in love with Tabitha, and soon he knew he couldn’t let her go. Joyce, too, loved the dog, and because a dog is a lot more work than a cat she would often help take care of Tabitha. She would make sure Tabitha got walked and fed whenever the Old Man was playing downtown or recording a record somewhere. And Mississippi Sam was thrilled because he knew he could come and visit Tabitha any time he wanted to.