11 16 12

 

More back roads to the front of my mind

 

 

An apparent student driving a year old Beamer speeds by the old man without a second glance.  At least he could have thought I was a vagrant with my walking stick he muses.  What can he be, seventeen maybe a precocious eighteen driving a forty thousand dollar car?  He shakes his geriatric head remembers his first.  A 1940 ford coupe, painted  [at the time] a sharp metallic green waiting in the driveway on his 17th birthday.  A $100 gift from his father just waiting to be made into the hot rod of the day.

 

Then he hears it.  A ghost of those formative years.  Off in the distance, hidden between the sounds of a train's mournful train whistle and a plane on line to land at Philadelphia International.

 

  The distinct sound of a baying beagle dog with his nose full of rabbit scent and screaming his delight loud enough to be heard for a number of miles.
 

 

 "Pal" he thinks and a small tugging begins in the corner of one eye.  No one knows where he came from or how he adopted the old man, but the dog known simply as "Pal" became a constant companion to the boy.  Furthermore, no one knows what happened to the dog when the boy moved away.  He might have even slept by the back step at the Corner House but he was always there.  Never happier than when the boy would embark on one of his daily adventures.  Following along at his side no matter what.  Except when rabbit filled his nose.  Then he would disappear for long howling stretches of time.  But then that was the way it was with a beagle.  Fiercely loyal, but all rabbit hound.

One last thought of pets while sitting there.  His parents bought a lamb which he had named "Jerry"  to help keep the grass down at the Corner House.  There is no known explanation for the name, but he recalls that Jerry made just wonderful lamb chops.