Had three dogs since I came. or maybe four, coming on five, all flop-eared, drooling hounds so full of love they’d come up and put their head under your hand to feel like they were being petted, move their head back and forth for the feeling.
Every one named Old Blue. Fishbone said all hounds had to be named that. Old Blue. Because of a song that had a line that said, “Old Blue, you good dog, you.” Named right off, as soon as they came to us–and that’s what happened; they just came to us. They’d show up all covered with mud and tick and fly bites and move in, and as soon as they were there, they’d get next to Fishbone and stick there like they’d been there all their lives, act all old and tired, and sleep next to Fishbone and the rocker unless I went to go hunting. Then they’d jump up and hit out of the front of the cabin like they were on fire.