Swampy Says -- Thankful for Boo

I's been asked to say what I's thankful for. I guess the one thing other'n Agatha, is Boo. Boo's been my right-hand dog for so long it be hard to imagine life without him. So I's gots to thinkin' 'bout the time I met Misha and told her about how me and Boo met. 

Misha looked up and saw a small man standing in the doorway. He wore dungarees over a cotton pajama shirt. His longish hair was sticking out in every direction. “I like dogs. Maybe he can tell.”

“I told her I ain’t decent, but she don’t listen. She’s worse’n a damn fairy. I guess she told you, my name’s Swampy and this here is Boo.” The dog stood up abruptly and charged at Swampy, knocking against his chest. “Down boy. I didn’t say ‘Come’. I’s jes tellin’ the girl your name.” The dog sat and kept his eyes focused on Swampy.

“Is he from Catahoula?” Misha asked.

“He from right here in the swamp. I was out huntin’ gator one day and heard a whinin’ racket you wouldn’t believe. I looked inside the log where it was comin’ from and seen these two eyes glowin’. Well, first I thought it was a baby coon and then out he jumps. No bigger’n this, he was,” Swampy held his hands as if he was encircling a small acorn squash. “I figure we was meant to be together. He gots mixed up eyes just like me, but his are mixed up colors.” Misha looked at the dog’s eyes and noticed one eye was blue and the other brown.

“He’s cute.”

“He’s an ugly cur is what he is, but he earns his keep.” Swampy gave Misha a twisted smile and scratched the dog’s head. “Ever lost a goat in the swamp?”

“We never stayed in one place long enough to raise livestock.”

“Well I raise goats and one gets lost in the swamp, you might as well give it up as gator food. But Boo here rounds ‘em up and brings ‘em home. Pigs too. Hey I’s got some baby pigs, you wanna meet ‘em?”

If I recollect right, I's already told you about Misha meetin' the pigs and I hear one hollerin' now for food, so I'd best go see to it. If y'uns like this story and want to know more 'bout my meetin' up with Misha and all of everything else that went on, you can read Rips in the Weave. It's free for most readers and only 99 cents for Kindle.

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A note from Rachelle 
Boo was inspired by @SidTheCatahoula one of @RagabashGirl 's anipal friends on Twitter. Before we met Sid, I had never even heard of the Catahoula breed, but Sid was such a great dog, I thought a Catahoula would be a perfect companion for Swampy. So, I am thankful I got to meet @SidTheCatahoula and for all the pals I've met on Twitter. I don't let @RagabashGirl tweet much these days, but we still think of all of you.

If you want to learn more about Catahoulas, here are some links.
Catahoula Rescue
Catahoula Leopard Dog - Breed History

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Rips in the Weave - According to Swampy

1897. That was a long dang time ago, back before me and Agatha decided to get hitched. Matter of fact, before I ever met the mother of all gators.

I knew Nymeria though. That nymph caused me nothin' but trouble, tryin' to get that new nymph Misha to see me nekkid. Bad enough seein' the two of them nekkid standin' there on my porch.

'Sides, apart from runnin' with Nymeria, Misha seemed like a nice sort. She liked my pigs and Boo and that's what matters.

I knows Agatha tole' you 'bout the happ'nins with Khrou-ach, but there's more to Rips in the Weave than just that old god war stuff. My friend Sassafras Cats has big problem with that sister of hers, Delilah. I never much liked Delilah. Grammy always tole me that clothes don't make a girl, it's what underneath the skin and Delilah's got nuttin' but pride underneath all them bustles and silks.

If you don't believe me, you can read it for yourself and you don't even have to pay a dime. You can get Rips in the Weave as a free ebook. You can download it for any ebook format from Smashwords. It is also available free on iTunes, Nook  and Kobo.

The Buck

Swampy

I's done my share of huntin', no doubt 'bout it. I hunt gator, coons, whatever comes my way. When I's young, I had to hunt. Y'uns see I growed up in the swamp. Ain't nutting to eat in the swamp 'cept you hunt it.

'Course I don't hunt now. No need. And it ain't right to hunt jes for sport an' leave the meat out there for the crows. 'Cause those gators 'an deer 'an coons. They have souls too. I knows it 'cause I seen 'em.

So I mights be the last person you'd spect to share a poem like the one. But it got me when I read it...got me right here where my heart lives. 'Cause I's looked in eyes like that before and I's seen deer leap.

The Buck
by Rachelle Reese

 Blood stains your fur
a final mark above your heart
its rhythm silenced
Death glazes your eyes
a lifeless window
now your soul has leapt away
I wish I'd seen you soaring
soul and body joined
between the naked trees
instead

Meet Swampy

Agatha

Hanover asked me to talk about Swampy. I told him my clumsy claws have no business pounding little keys and that he should talk about his godfather, but he gave me those pleading eyes -- you know, the ones children learn at about 4 months -- so I told him it's his own fault if I break this thing. So here goes.

If you've read From the Gator's Mouth, you know that the Swamp Rat, as I call him, can't form a complete sentence to save his life. He has a habit of hunting my gator children, and when he was a young man, had a tendency to fool with my nymphs. He grew out off that, but you'll have to wait until until "The Reunion" comes out to find out why. I'm not spoiling that secret.

What I will tell you is that from the time he was a child, I liked the Swamp Rat. Of course I didn't let on. He called me Hag and for good reason. Whenever I went to see him, I shifted from my gator form to a two-legged form that is not quite what you see here in this photo. That I had to learn...and believe me, it was not easy.

Swampy

Why not let him see me as a gator? That was his great-grandmother's idea. Amadahy. She was a good nymph, but she fell in love. Most nymphs don't, you know. But Amadahy did. And she asked me to reverse what I had done -- to make her mortal. When she conceived a child, she asked me to stay away so that the child would be normal. Two generations later, when the last of her nymph blood was gone and she was dying, she came to me and asked me to make sure the Swamp Rat got along fine. I'd say I kept my promise. But then, I always do.