"You're just like your Dad," is something I have heard in one particular instance. I am admittedly an animal rescuer and animal lover. Growing up, we always had pets, they were outside dogs, cats, and the occasional horse or pony. As we got older, we would sneak cats into our bedrooms and when we were living on our own, our house pets would vacation on the farm when we traveled. Daddy was a life-long animal lover and an animal rescuer before Wonder Pets and Go Diego, Go! His birthday is the first week of November, which is also National Animal Rescue Week.
Many, many friends, neighbors, and acquaintances have a beloved pet from the farm. Everyone knew that if their circumstances changed, there was a money-back guarantee and any cat or dog that came from the farm could be returned. Every cat had a place to live out its life and dogs that could be mentored would work along with his pack of blue heelers. His first blue heeler, Banjo, was a retired circus dog who was injured in the line of duty. He lived a full life out on the farm and when his arthritis made it impossible for him to herd the cattle, Reagan loaded him up in the Gator and Banjo would supervise his team and herd the cows from Reagan's lap. Some memorable dogs were Butch, his Catahoula cow dog that would joyfully ride on top of bundles of papers or in the front seat of the truck; Prissy Pricilla, our childhood poodle, Crissy, Mom's little-lap dog that loved Daddy with a passion; and Tootsie, Mom's Shorkie that divided her time between Mom's lap and rides on the gator with the farm dogs.
When Dad sat down in his Lazy Boy chair or laid down on the couch for a little shuteye, his cats, Spots and Buddy, or his dogs, JJ, Dot Dot, and Little Angel were not far away. As time went by, the "no indoor pets" rule was replaced with companion pets all the time.
He loved his big cows as much as his cats and dogs. His herd of Charolais cattle knew his whistle and would come running when they heard his tune. Mom and Dad's bottle- fed momma cow, Snowball, lived long enough to move from Jersey Village to Pattison. When she died along with several others the first winter, he took her to Texas A&M to discover frozen Johnson Grass is deadly. From that point on, his cows got hay and bags and bags for specialty formulated food in the winter. When a cow would get stuck in the mud and require rest and recuperation, he provided it. More than once, he did physical therapy with a cow hoisted up in a sling. He helped calves enter the world with arms greased up with Crisco, if a mother cow couldn't feed her calf, he would bottle-
feed it and make it a pet. His bottle babies would bunk down with the dogs for the night and meet him at the front door in the morning.
Daddy loved dogs and cats and shared the love through all the animals that originated or ended up on the farm. We all have pets that came from Pattison. When my kids were little, we had to check bags, boxes, under the seats, and inside jackets to make sure Poppie didn't send home a kitten or puppy every time we visited. Our dog Ginger was a farm dog. We had had her for about six months when she visited Pattison with us. When it came time to leave, she was nowhere to be found. We looked for her for hours, but John and I had to drive home to Austin. The next day, a Monday, I taught my middle school catechism students at church, and we all prayed that Ginger would be found. Tuesday, when I got home from work, she was in our backyard! Dad found her, drove her to Austin, left her in our backyard, and headed home without a word. When I told the students the following week that our prayers had been answered and Ginger was home, they couldn't believe it!
If there was a particular dog or cat that he thought belonged with a certain someone, he wouldn't ask permission, many times Dad would drive across the city to Mamaw's or Aunt Fannie's houses, put a dog or cat over the fence, stick a Houston chronicle in the box, and head home. Mamaw, Aunt Fannie, and Uncle Marvin all knew his calling card.
He had a lot in common with St. Francis, Dad could most certainly talk to animals! We all talk to our pets, and we know they understand us. Dad was born on 11/4, one month to the day after the feast of St. Francis's and if you know my dad, you know that he was late most of his life. St. Francis was certainly part of Dad's saint squad.
When we left early on a Tuesday morning for Dad's burial, Jessie forgot her doll, Lily. She ran inside, grabbed Lily, locked the door and we went to Pattison. We arrived home the same night around 11:00PM, as soon as we drove into the driveway, we saw a cat and then noticed that the door was open. John and Luke headed in first, no one kicked in the door. Jessie immediately started crying, "It is my fault, I was the last one out." I walked in and noticed that Einstein, our 15-year-old, deaf, blind, and arthritic poodle was missing. He wasn't in the house, he wasn't in the yard, he was nowhere to be found. We saw him on the security camera several times wandering around the yard, but we couldn't find him. I posted him lost everywhere! I think I finally fell asleep around
3:00 AM, I woke up at 5:00 AM and walked the neighborhood, but still no Einstein. I retraced the routine walk in our neighborhood, as I entered the San Jose church parking lot next to our house, I prayed, "Daddy, it would give me so much peace if you would help us find Einstein." Austin's huge network of animal rescuers helped us locate him; we were so thankful that he was ok. I know that my dad, St. Francis, and all the animals waiting for me on the other side of the rainbow bridge helped Einstein make his way home.
Late on December 8, 2023, there was a big party with fireworks at the Rainbow Bridge. Butch and Banjo led the pack of dogs, cats, cows, pigs, chickens, emus, bunnies, donkeys, ponies, turtles, raccoons, goats, bobcats, Foxy the fox, and a little chipmunk.
