Corky

Everyone has a favorite pet. My favorite was
our family dog---Corky. I was about two years of age
when my Grandmother (Della) Curran and my Aunt
Cettie (Dad’s sister) gave me Corky for a Christmas
gift. At that time, Corky was a small rat terror puppy
who was anxious for attention. He was primarily
white with a large black spot on his back above his
hips. He had a stub of a tail that was shaped like a
crank----Dad said like a cork screw---thus Corky.

Corky was to become a family pet, loved and
enjoyed by both of my brothers and by my parents.
In general rat terrors are a smart lot, and to me
Corky was the smartest. As a puppy he was with we
boys every where we went. We carried him around
during our play, until he became too large to carry.

I would guess that I was about three when this
picture of me in the old tire swing and Corky was
taken. When I was a youngster, this is the only swing
that I had. Dad had taken an old tire, cut away part
of the carcass, tied a rope to the top of the tire, and
secured it to a tree limb.

Corky was fiercely protective of everyone in the family---if any one appeared to be threatening to Mom of any of we boys---even in play, Corky would come to our rescue and might even snap at the culprit. Mom could depend on Corky being with we boys, she always said that if she looked out and could see Corky, we were probably Ok. If the dog was gone so were the boys. She said that if she heard a commotion, looked out and Corky was not excited---or L. D. was not carrying Jim or Frank that it was not too bad.

Corky did not like to be “teased”----just ask some of the neighbor kids who lived near us when we lived in Mound City for awhile. They would come down the alley and tease him while he was in his pen only once---that is after Dad threatened to turn him out. He was a cocky little rascal---he would “take on” in a fight any dog, big or small that came into the yard-------he did however obey pretty well, and could be called “off or back” quite easy.

He hated snakes with a passion-----finding even the smallest snake, he would attack it by grabbing it and shaking it---this would go on until he had shaken or “snapped” it into small pieces. He seemed to know which snakes were poisonous and which ones were not, as he would attack the poisonous ones with much more vigor that the ones that were non-poisonous.
I recall once when we lived on the “Ford” place near Mound City, that Corky was “missing” for a couple of days---finally one evening, he “came in” and his whole neck and head were badly swollen (nearly twice normal size). Apparently he had be bitten by a poisonous snake--perhaps a rattler or a copperhead. The Vet. said that in most cases such bits were fatal. I recall that it was the Spring of the year, because he went to the garden and “wallowed” in the fresh moist dirt---taking out fully one-half of the peas that Mom had planted only a few days before. I recall that Mom and Dad doctored and cared for him for several days before he gradually got back to normal. This episode did not slow him down, as he continued to be “death” to all snakes. He was bitten twice more in his life by a poisonous snake, and continued to survive.

Corky was an excellent “squirrel” dog---once in the timber he would “tree” a squirrel in a short time if there was one in the area. One could bet that once Corky “treed”, there would be a squirrel in that tree---perhaps in a nest, or a den, or hid in the crotch of a tree, but it would be there if one would just be patient enough to find it. If the squirrel moved from tree top to tree top, Corky was alert enough to follow it. I recall that my Uncle Harry from Kansas City loved to come to the farm and squirrel hunt with him---once in awhile, he would let me fire his 22 rifle. (besides that Uncle Harry always brought a bag of candy---and we saw very little candy in those days)

As we and Corky became older, he became more loved and was almost one of the family (if a dog can be one of the family). One spring, when I was about 13 or 14, we noticed that Corky was slower to get up, would walk slower around the yard and did not exhibit the same vigor that he had for so many years----he would be 11 or 12 years of age. One Spring morning when we went out, we found Corky dead----he had come to the end of a very rich life---rich for him and rich for our family.

Yes, we all cried---after all, he had been like family for many years. Of course we boys planned a funeral for him. We decided to bury him just west of the old garage, and we agreed that we would make a head stone out of that large old limestone that was out by the barn---(this stone was a cube about 15” each way, and may very well at one time have been a cornerstone in one of the farm buildings).

We buried Corky that day, and started with hammer, chisel and punch on the lime stone to make an inscription. At first we had a long statement attesting to Corky’s life long deed’s and our love for him. However, as that day and the next day wore on, we shortened the statement to simply ‘CORKY” --and continued working for several days on the stone.

Have you ever chiseled 3 inch high letters in a large limestone----it goes quite slow---particularly when you are only 10 or 12 or 14. If you will look west of the old garage today, you will find a 15” X 15” cube of limestone half buried marking Corky’s grave---I am sorry to say that the inscription only has COR ----as we never seemed to get it done. ---not that we did not love him---it was just that life goes on and one has to continue with the living and cherish the fond memories and love of the past.