A bulldog is the worst kind 'a dog

A spell back I was makin' my rounds off out Highway 84. That's where my close family's stompin' grounds is. I go by an' check on 'em ever so often, me bein' a travelin' hawg, you know. Deer season was over and ever'thing had quieted down.

We was down in this li'l ol' bottom eatin' akerns, relaxed an' enjoyin' ourselves. They was me, a niece, and her shoats, an' a couple 'a nephews. Mammy an' Pappy, they been gone a number 'a years now. They wound up in this two-legged hillbilly's smoke house. I was off makin' my rounds when it happened, but my kin told me about it.

Like I said, we was enjoyin' ourselves, when lo and behold, up comes two dogs and started bayin' us. Well, we lit a shuck fer the thicket. We passed by these hillbillies, an' I seen they had this ol' gray bulldog with 'em that I've seen several times. The young long-legged one looked like his offspring.

Now a bulldog is the worst kind 'a dog t' deal with. He will catch you on the side 'a th' head an' you can't hardly shake 'im off. You just have t' cut on whatever you can, which is usually th' back end. We got into th' thicket a good ways before that bulldog caught up, and shore 'nough, he caught th' side 'a my head. The th' other two caught me on th' other side. Well, I started cuttin' anything I could reach. I cut them cur dogs a couple 'a times, an' they turned loose and backed up and kept 'a barkin'. I got that bulldog down and give him a good rasslin' an' had him bleedin' all over, and he backed up, too.

I figgered it was time her me t' go. I hadn' gone too far when I seen that old hillbilly. I've had a score t' settle with him her several years. But before I got to him he hollered, "Hey! Hey!" Now if they's anything I can't stand, it's th' sound them two-legged varmints makes. So, I turned an' went th' other way. I run between th' other one's legs. I would 'a give him some 'a my tushes, too, but things happened s' fast I didn' have time t' think. That bulldog run into the side 'a my head and knocked me ten feet, but he didn' catch me. He'd had enough 'a my razor sharp tushes. Any sensible hawg knows five-to-one odds is scary, so I kept movin' real fast. I didn' take time t' tell any 'a my kin Bye, neither. They had all got fu'ther theirselves while I had my time with them dogs. Before th' sun set, I was deep in my own home thicket way down on Dugdemony.

It's gon' be awhile b'fore I make another trip out to' the' ol' stompin' grounds. I'll wait'll I hear that that ol' gray bulldog has gone t' dog heaven, I think.