John Byron Belville’s Tall Tales Told: Boy

You will notice there is no rhyme nor reason in placement of these tales. They are just remembrances that I have experienced in my life that my one love, Jackie Sue Belville, told me I should write down for posterity. That, of course, would mean you. So here goes. A trip into the exciting life of ol’ Johnny B.

One of my first experiences that I clearly remember is the the finding and incorporating my best friend Boy into our family.  He – he’s a dog, by the way – just showed up at our house one day wanting to play.  So, I played with him that day and begged mom and dad to let me keep him.  They said okay but they were going to run an ad in the paper to see if he might be someone else’s dog and if so, he should be returned to the rightful owners.  I agreed [what the hell else could I do, they were parents forgodsake].

Nobody showed up to claim Boy [I was 6 years old and I wasn’t to hip to original names at the time, hence, the name, Boy for obvious reasons], so he became mine for the next 12 years; he died at the ripe old age of 17.  But while alive, he was my best friend because I was of all intents and purposes, an only child; Velda, my sister, was 14 years older than me so she wasn’t really in my life too much.  She got married and moved off with a Navy guy named Wayne.  Boy, was there to take the place of missing siblings in my life and I’ll forever be grateful for his company and unconditional love.

I think all kids need a pet to call their own that they can love and have that love returned unconditionally.

I loved that dog probably more than I could ever love a brother and/or sister.  He was no competition to me and he was warm to sleep with at night.  Mom didn’t seem to mind that he crawled up on my bed and slept.  I think she thought as long as something keeps him occupied, he’ll be out of my hair.  Boy did the babysitting job just fine.  We hung out and I told him all my deep dark little boy secrets and later my teenage secrets.  He always understood and, again, never judged me…unlike some humans I could name… but won’t.

I loved the outdoors, so did Boy.  We hardly ever could be found in the house if it was nice outside.  He fished, hunted and camped together.  Even when I got Sonny, my horse, Boy loped along side of us where ever we went, until he got too tired, then he’d make his way back home.

Boy was never leashed.  He never had to be in those days.  I feel sorry for dogs today having to be leashed to their masters and not being able to run free.  Little dogs seem to get along fine on leashes, but mid-sized and large dogs seem miserable on leashes.  Just an observation, I have no proof of their emotional needs.

One time we up fishing on Little Lost River.  Boy, of course, was with me as we headed down the stream to catch the wily trout.  If I crossed the river, he crossed too.  He just had to be with me at all times.  As I crossed the stream, Boy jumped in and began paddling away, but got caught in the current and was pulled under.  I could see him underwater with his collar stuck on a branch.  He couldn’t get loose.  I was in a panic and began taking off my fishing waders when the branch he was caught on gave way and up he popped like a cork and he paddled his way to the bank and came running up to me and gave me a wiggly-squiggly doggy rain shower.  I was never so glad to see someone in my life.  My heart was beating a mile a minute while he was under the water and I would have stupidly dived in to save Boy if the branch had not broken.  We both would probably have died that day if someone or something wasn’t looking out for us.

Boy and I had many other adventures, but they will be entertained throughout this memoir as they seem poignant.