The Reluctant Community Leader

When you live on a farm, socializing is rare. There are cows to feed, milk and care for in all types of weather. Putting up hay, setting, plowing and cutting tobaco and keeping fence rows cleared are all in the farmer's job description.

For my Dad, not only did he do the farmer's job, he also worked 40 hours per week at Union Carbide, taught adult Sunday School and played with us.

I don't remember much about how we started going to the Culleoka Community Club, but we did. My best guess is that my grandparents were active in it, and at that time, there weren't any government grants to do improvement projects to public facilities.

The homeplace circa 1959

It was always a pot-luck affair, and because I was so small, the topics of discussion are a little fuzzy. There is one thing I'll always remember, the night my Dad was elected president of Culleoka Community Club in absentia. My best friend Martha invited me to go with her parents. When I got home, I ran to the kitchen and found Dad with his head under the sink working to repair an aging pipe so Mom could fix breakfast the next morning.

Dad spent many hours at the barn.

It wasn't that Dad was anti-social, he just had a full plate, and community club activities weren't high on the priority list. He ducked his head out from beneath the sink, and I announced in an excited voice that he had been elected president of the club for the next year.

My father didn't use bad language, but after that announcement, I think he was tempted. I thought smoke would come out of his ears. It was a little tense in the kitchen to say the least.

After much discussion and protesting with my Mom, Dad said he would do it.

My father was good for his word; regardless of the task, if he was given it, he would do it to the best of his ability. I remember fair booths that he and Mom designed and built for the county fair publicizing the club. It's amazing what the two of them could do with a stapler, duck tape and bailing wire. We made visits to other community clubs as gestures of good will. There were probably other activities, but I don't remember them.

Dad and Hal built barn #2.

The infamous sink!

The photos I'm using relate a time period when this would have happened  Dad didn't like to have his picture made, and it was hard to catch him still anyway.

Needless to say I didn't make any other "surprise" declarations; I had learned my lesson.

Hal and me in the 60's.

Dad at Myrtle Beach visiting
his first grandchild in 1972.

Crazy for Canines

For those of you who have known me for a while, the announcement of my getting a second dog is the proof that I had really gone over the edge. For the first 57 years of my life, I viewed dogs as an intrusion on my personal space. I didn't like them, and it seemed all of them thought I wanted to be their best friend, Not!

Sissy Beatrice Webb

We had dogs at home, but they were outside dogs and never came in the house. Also, my Dad had to sometimes kill a dog that started running his cows that he was trying to fatten for market. I thought the world was a much better place without them.

When my cousin Bonnie and I bought a house together, her dog Sally moved in as well. I tolerated her because Bonnie tolerated my child!

In 2009, I had been in my house in Thompson's Station for about two years. Being by myself has always been comfortable for me. But at age 57, I wanted a companion that was here all the time. A husband brought more baggage than I wanted, so I opted on a whim to take in a Miniature Schaunzer that my sister found was being given to the first taker. Sissy was five weeks old, and I let her sleep in a tiny crate on my bedside table. I was as scared to have her in my care as I was when Samuel was born. She would awake during the night, I'd take her outside, get her back to sleep, and I would again try to sleep. It was love at first sight. We had our adjustment difficulties, but I was amazed at how I was so attached to this little animal with the most expressive eyes I'd ever seen.

Sissy at 5

Sissy is now 5 years old, and she has gotten a little lazy. The thought occurred to me that maybe a playmate might push her to run around and play a little more. I went to Find A Pet. Com and fell in love with a 5-year-old Jack Russell Terrier mix. Her name was Lady, and she needed a forever home.

Lady Webb

Lady and Sissy playing

The day after Labor Day, Lady came to live with us. I had no idea how Sissy would react, and I wasn't sure that Lady would be happy here. After two-plus weeks, all is well in the Webb household. Sissy and Lady haven't had a cross word--a few less than friendly looks, but no growls exchanged. They love to run outside and inside.

On the Deck

It's interesting to see how a shelter dog reacts to lots of love and attention compared with a pup you've raised since it was weaned. I try to reassure Sissy that she is still my little girl and will always be my baby. It is a joy to watch them run out of their crates in the morning ready to go outside and face the day.

Watching TV with Mom

Since I have two best friends of the canine persuasion, it is all I can do to go to Petsmart on adoption Saturday without crying.  The saying I believe is "there's no fool like an old fool"...guilty as charged and lovin' every minute of it. Glad I figured it out before it was too late!