The Cold Days of Summer - Episode 8
Kaiser Bill joins the family and Drew learns to fall.
Previously in The Cold Days of Summer: The Blessings arrive on East 11th Street, KMOM, KOSA and KMID, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards in Odessa?
Want to get all of the details? See: Episode 7 - The Blessings; Two and a half channels in glorious, fuzzy black and white
Kaiser Bill
It didn’t happen often, in fact, not much at all, but it did happen one Friday evening at the dinner table in March of 1970.
“Drew, things will probably be a little slow tomorrow morning. Want to come out to the fields with me?”
There was only one correct answer to that question. I had learned that the year before, when my Dad asked me the same question, I had answered no and there was hell to pay for the next two weeks. He basically moped, was short-tempered and life around the house was not at all pleasant, all because I had said no to going out to the fields with him.
That Friday evening in March of 1970 I took that lesson of the past to heart and answered “Sure, yeah, sounds like fun.”
My Dad smiled a bit, Mom’s smile was much more sincere and warm, Elizabeth asked why she couldn’t go, Mom laughed and told her that they had men work to do, and she would keep Elizabeth busy Saturday.
Saturday morning came early. My dad knocked on my door frame until I woke up.
“Drew, time to get rolling.”
I rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. 4:30 am, my dad always liked an early start to the day. I got up, went to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth and stuck my head under the running water to help wash away the last bit of sleep from my mind. After I pulled on some jeans, an old pair of boots, a t-shirt and a jacket I walked into the kitchen. Dad was pouring himself a cup of coffee and placed an ice cube in the cup to cool it off.
“Scrounge in the refrigerator, see if you can find us something to eat while we’re out.”
I walked over to the refrigerator and after looking around for a minute, came across a chunk of longhorn cheese and a piece of dry sausage. Combine that with half a loaf of bread and that would make for a decent lunch.
“Don’t forget to fill up your canteen with water, I can’t guarantee the water will be very drinkable where we’re going.”
I filled up my canteen and we walked out the door at 4:50 am.
On the way out of town, Dad picked up four dozen donuts and a dozen donut holes from Southern Maid. The donut holes were for me, the donuts were for the rig crews.
The morning went quickly. Dad went out to the first rig and checked in with the crew. While he did that I wandered around the grounds, into the mesquite patches, but staying within eye and ear shot of the rig. We were at the first rig for a couple of hours before we went out to next rig. We finished up with the second rig around 11:00 am and then we drove to the third and final rig.
It had been a good morning, but I was starting to get a little hungry for the sausage and cheese. Turns out my Dad was too.
“Drew, cut me off a chunk of cheese, a piece of that sausage and wrap it up in a piece of bread.”
I did and made one for me too. It made for a good lunch while we were on the way to the final rig. Before we got there, we stopped at a 7-11. Dad bought himself a Coke, I got a Mountain Dew and a couple of comic books. Then we headed out to the final rig. Several minutes passed before either one of us spoke.
“God damn.” That was all he said as he eased off the gas and pulled over to the side of the road. I was busy reading one comic book and wasn’t looking. The truck came to a stop in a spew of caliche dust. He opened his door and stepped out. I started to do the same when he said “Wait a minute, Drew, just stay in the cab.”
The dust settled and I could see why my Dad told me to stay in the cab. Off the side of the road was a dead dog, it had been cut up pretty good, probably hit by a car or a truck. What I couldn’t figure out was why my Dad stopped at all. There are a lot of strays in West Texas, and too often they get hit on the road. This just seemed to be one more.
“God damn.” My dad said that almost under his breath, I could barely hear it. Then he spoke louder. “Drew, come here a minute, I need your help.”
I got out of the truck and walked over to where he was. He was standing near the dead dog, looking down at something a few feet away.
What he was looking at was a small puppy, solid grey, couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old. The pup was sitting on his haunches, looking up at my Dad.
“The dead dog was his mother. Must have happened not more than thirty minutes ago. Her body is still warm. If I didn’t know better, I would say they’re full blood Weimaraners, but, for the hell of me, I can’t figure out how they would have ended up here like a couple of strays. They’re good dogs, real smart, make for good hunters. The poor little guy doesn’t know what’s happened, he can’t figure out what’s wrong with his mom.”
The pup was scared of my Dad, but he wasn’t going to leave his mom.
“Dad, think he might be thirsty or hungry?”
“Hmm, that’s a good idea. Drew, go cut off a couple of pieces of that sausage. Make them small enough so he can handle them. Pour some water into my coffee cup too.”
I did as my Dad said and was back in a couple of minutes with the sausage and water.
“Go ahead, see if he shows some interest. He doesn’t seem to care too much for me. He might trust you.”
I knelt down to the pup and started talking to him.
“Hey, fella, you hungry?” I placed two pieces of sausage on the ground near to him. He sniffed the air, looked at me and at the sausage. He sat there for a minute, trying to figure things out. After a few seconds, he came to a conclusion. He took a couple of cautious steps towards the sausage. When he reached it, he looked up at me, then down and sniffed at the sausage. He tentatively licked at it, must have liked the taste as he took one of the pieces in his mouth and began to chew.
My dad and I must have been thinking along the same lines, but he spoke first.
“There’s a chance we going to get hurt by this one. You never know with a stray if they’re healthy or not. But, hell, we can’t leave him here, can we?”
“No, Dad, we can’t.”
“Shit, guess we’ll have to make the best of it. Think you can get him to come to you?”
“It may take a few minutes.”
“I’ll head back to the truck. I think things will go quicker if I’m not near.”
All this time the pup was chewing on the sausage while eying the other piece on the ground. I put the coffee cup with water on the ground near the sausage and continued to watch him.
“All right, pup, why don’t you get a drink of water? I bet you’re thirsty.”
He was. He swallowed his first piece of sausage then had a long drink from the cup. One of his ears, too big for his head, dipped down into the cup. Once he had slaked his thirst, he lifted his head out, then seemed a little puzzled by his wet ear. He cocked his head once, then shook his head and slung little droplets of water around him. He seemed satisfied with the results, and dropped back down on his haunches.
I decided to take a chance, reached out and picked him up with my hand. He squirmed in my hands for a minute, but as I picked him up in my arms, he relaxed a bit. As I held him up to my face, he licked me over and over again.
I held him in one hand while I picked up my Dad’s coffee cup. All the while he was squirming, trying to get up and over my shoulder.
Holding the pup like a little baby, with him looking over my shoulder I walked back to the truck. My Dad was finishing a cigarette as I walked up.
“I see you got him.” That I did.
The three of us got in the truck. At first, the pup continued to squirm, but as soon as my Dad fired up the engine and started to drive away, the pup settled down, standing on his hind legs with his front paws on the door sill. He was sniffing road air blowing through the vent window.
“What are you going to name him?”
“I don’t know. You said he was a Weimaraner? What kind of dog is that?”
“Good hunting dogs, real smart. Think they come from Germany.”
I thought that over. Germany. That’s when the name came to me. Kaiser Wilhelm.
“I thought of a name for him. Kaiser Bill, for Kaiser Wilhelm.”
My dad looked at me for a minute with a strange look in his eye, then smirked. “Glad you know history. That ought to be a good name, he looks rather regal looking out the window like that.”
The three of us drove to the third rig. Dad worked with the crew, I worked with Kaiser Bill. I found a coil of thin rope in the truck bed and made a choke leash. Kaiser resisted the tug at first, but quickly learned things went better for him if he went along with me. In about a half an hour I had him used to the leash so he would walk with me and stop when I stopped.
I was still working with Kaiser Bill when my Dad walked back over. Kaiser was starting to resist a little more and I was getting a little frustrated.
“Drew, he’s just a pup and he’s had a hard day. You got him used to that leash and that’s good, but it’s time to let him rest a bit. I’ve had it for the day, let’s head home.”
The three of us got back in the truck and drove home. At first, Kaiser Bill stood on his hind legs with his front paws on the door sill, but after only a few minutes, he sat down, then curled up in my lap, with his head resting on my leg and fell fast asleep.
We stopped at the vet’s on the way home, my Dad saying Kaiser Bill needed a quick look over and we needed to know if he was healthy now instead of later. The vet looked him over, told us by the way his teeth had grown that Kaiser was about 7-8 weeks old, healthy as a horse and to bring him back for his shots in a few weeks.
Once we got home, the three of us went into the house. Elizabeth was excited to see Kaiser and when I set him down on the ground in the back yard he ran like crazy, first chasing Elizabeth, then letting Elizabeth chase him. It didn’t take too long before they wore each other out. All the while Mom was talking to Dad. When we first walked in she seemed to have her doubts, but something he said to her seemed to make a difference and by the time Elizabeth and Kaiser were both lying on the ground, exhausted from their play, Mom said she was going to the store to get Kaiser some puppy food. Kaiser had found his new home.
Dad was right, Kaiser turned out to be a smart dog. Inside of two weeks, I had him house broken and able to respond to a handful of spoken commands as well as some gestures. Once Mom was convinced he was house trained Kaiser was allowed to be in the house, even to sleep in my room. He liked to sleep at the foot of my bed, looking toward the door, in my imagination, ready for anything that might try to harm any of us.
While Kaiser was really my dog, he was close to everyone. He played every day with Elizabeth, enjoyed watching the 10:00 pm news with my Dad, and morning coffee with Mom. Every morning my Mom would have coffee in the back yard, and with her coffee would eat several pieces of dried fruit, apricots were her favorite. Apricots turned out to be Kaiser’s favorite as well. He never drank the coffee, but he always managed to get three or four pieces of dried apricots to start his day.
Learning to fall
I am not a very graceful or agile child. No, I am not. In fact, I'm actually a bit clumsy and klutzy. Truth is, I fall a lot. Seems like I always have a fresh bruise, scrape or sprain.
Think about that for a minute and see where your mind takes you. Some of you came to a conclusion the minute I said I've always got a bruise, sprain or strain. Your mind took you to a certain conclusion, a conclusion that is a little damning for my parents or Jack. That's not what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about is what I said. I'm clumsy. I fall a lot and it seems like there's always some part of me in a little bit of pain.
Early on whenever I took a tumble I ran to my Mom who always made it better. But she always had something to say about her “clumsy little man.” She told me to slow down, to look where I was going, to just not be so clumsy. I tried all of those things and none of them worked. I still fell off of the house, down the steps, off of my bike, off of the curb. I cut corners a little too sharp and ended up with bruised and scraped shins, calves, shoulders and arms.
Let's face it, I was an accident waiting to happen. And, I was getting tired of listening to my Mom complaining about my injuries. So I did something about it. First off, I learned how to tend to my own wounds. I learned from watching her and from reading some articles in the World Book Encyclopedia in our living room that no one else ever looked at. Second, I learned how to fall. That is, I learned how to fall in a way that minimized the damage. I learned how to roll with the fall, protecting my hands, fingers and head and letting the big parts of my body take the brunt of the blow. It worked. Mom no longer had to tend to my wounds so she no longer had anything to complain about. Occasionally she would gasp when she caught me putting on a shirt or pulling on pants and she would see a bruise from a fall or a long scrape from a tumble off my bike, but I would quickly cover up the signs, tell her I was all right, keep the wound clean and get on with life. Soon she learned to not ask. As for learning how to fall? That helped out too. My injuries were lessened as I got better at falling and rolling with the impact.
Coming up next in Episode 9 where Drew annoys his sixth grade teacher and learns about classroom management; The west Texas killings move to the front page of The Odessa American.