Pete The Hound’s Christmas Adventure

Pete the Hound’s Christmas Adventure is a work of fiction based on a real dog who once upon a time lived on Panola Street.

By Jessie Gurner

Christmas Eve, 1939

“He’s going to be so disappointed,” Mama said, holding out a cup of hot coffee.  Steam rose from the dark surface and hovered in the winter morning air. “That boy hasn’t talked about anything else for the past month but going with you to get a Christmas tree. He said that he and Pete found the biggest and best tree ever.”

 Daddy put down the ax he had been using to split kindling. He took the coffee, wrapping his big hands around the hot cup. Along Panola Street, the smoke from the chimneys went straight up from housetops freezing into columns of white as they rose into the clear blue sky.  “These are hard times. I’m on the extra board and need to work when I can.”

“I know.  But …”

“That money means something special for Christmas,” Daddy pointed out.

“Like roller skates,” Mama said with a smile.

 “Anyway, it’s only Grenada and back. I’ll be home by supper. The boy can go with his brother to get the tree.”

   Mama knew she had lost, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. “Who adds a run on Christmas Eve morning? It’s just not right!”

 “I’ll be sure to tell Mr. Caulfield and he can pass the word along to Chicago that you don’t like the way they’re running the railroad.”

“Oh, hush.” Mama reached in her apron pocket and took out a folded napkin.  She opened it and took a biscuit and some bacon. She handed a small piece of bacon down to the coonhound sitting beside her feet, his head moving from one face to the other as if following the conversation. “Here you go, Pete.”

Drool ran down the edge of his jowls as he gently took the treat from between her fingers. He chewed slowly, appearing to savor the flavor.

Wide through the head, his heavy muzzle was frosted with gray. Loose skin folded down his neck and shoulders and his big droopy ears that looked as if they were edged with lace. They were a souvenir from his younger days when he chased a raccoon into a hollow log.  That very first hunt had left him not just with rick-rack ears, but also with a deep and abiding hatred for raccoons.

“That dog lives better than most people.” Daddy pointed to the corner of the house where the edge of a thick quilt peeked out from under an opening beneath the kitchen floor directly under the stove. “He sleeps where it’s warm and he eats what we eat. But if the boy had his way that hound would move into the house with us and you’d be setting a place at the table for him.”

Mama smiled and handed Pete some more bacon. “Come to think of it, he listens better than the two boys we do have in the house.” She signed as she broke off a piece of biscuit and gave it to the dog. “I’ve talked to those children until I’m blue in the face and they still run around like wild Indians. They’re going to tear the screen door off its hinges if they keep….”

A loud BANG echoed off the walls of the back porch, reverberating across the backyard.

Mama closed her eyes and shook her head, “…letting it slam.”

 A freckle faced nine-year-old rocketed around the corner of the house and skidded to a halt. “Good morning, Pete. Mama. Daddy.” His hand automatically dropped to the dog’s neck. He buried his fingers in the deep wrinkles and began scratching. “I’ve finished all my chores, and put …”

“What has your Mama told you about slamming the door?” Daddy interrupted.

“Not to do it. Sorry.” He swiveled his gaze to his Mama then quickly back to his father and continued without ever pausing for breath, “Everything’s in the truck so if you’re ready we can leave right now and go find that tree.”

Daddy looked him in the eyes. “I can’t go with you, son. I’ve got a run to Grenada and won’t be back until tonight.”

The boy’s fingers went still. Pete leaned against his leg and issued a low whine and he resumed the rhythmic scratching.

“It’s up to you and your brother to find a tree that’s big enough to suit your Mama and will still fit through the door,” Daddy added, trying to sound cheerful.

 “Yes, sir,” the boy whispered in a choked voice. He tucked his chin and stared down at the dog.

Mama and Daddy exchanged a look. Mama started to speak but Daddy gave a slight shake of his head. “You be good and take care of your Mama until I get back.”

The boy nodded without looking up. He stood motionless until he heard the back door closing then dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around the dog. “He didn’t even remember that Brother has gone hunting. We won’t even have a tree this year.”

The dog moved close, pushing his wet nose against the boy’s neck.

Finally the boy raised his head. “You know what, Pete, I don’t need Daddy, or Brother or anyone else. I’m going by myself and bring back the best Christmas tree that anyone anywhere has ever seen.”

Pete whined and moved closer.

The boy stood up, the light of determination in his eyes.  “The ax is already sharpened and ready to go. Remember that big cedar tree we saw last summer out at Pine Hill? I bet Mama would like that tree in the living room.”

He took a step and the dog stood up and followed. “Not this time, Pete. You’re too old and are just going to slow me down. Stay here where it’s warm.”

Pete whined again, tucked his tail and went back under the house. His forehead seemed more wrinkled than usual as his gaze followed the boy. He kept his head up, watching and listening, until the boy disappeared from sight and his footsteps faded in the distance.  He held the position for a long time, before putting his head on his paws and drifting off to sleep.

Pete Hears Some News

 Pete woke to the sound of voices.

 “Merry Christmas, Joe. What on earth are you doing out on such a cold afternoon?”

 “I saw your husband at the depot this morning. He said he was making a run to Grenada today. I heard on the radio there’s a storm heading this way and since you don’t drive, I thought I’d check to see if there’s anything you need from town.”

   Neither noticed Pete lift his head as if listening to the conversation.

  “I did all my shopping yesterday.” Mama smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Water Valley look so pretty. The garden club just out did themselves with the band stand this year and the store windows are beautiful.”

The old man nodded. “I heard tell that Turnages  took first place in the decorating contest.”

  “They deserved it,” Mama said firmly. “But I like what McLarty’s did, too.  If I can ever get my husband and the boys corralled I’m going to get them some new pants while they’re on sale.”

“I got my eye on one of those pearl handled knives at Trusty Hardware,” he confided, “They cost a whole dollar, but I told my wife I sure would like for Santa to bring me one of those.”

 “You should go down to Parkers and tell Santa yourself,” Mama suggested with a smile. “We took our youngest and he told Santa that the only thing he wants is a pair of roller skates.”

 “I’d better pass on the skates,” he said with a laugh. “I’d be pretty good at the falling, but the getting back up would be a problem.”

Mama smiled. “I used to tease my mother because she said she could tell when it was going to rain because her joints ached. Now I know exactly what she meant.”

 “That’s the truth,” he said. “My daddy said the same thing.”

They laughed.

“Guess, I’d better get going. My wife will think I ran in a ditch if I don’t get home soon.”

 “You might as well go ahead and take your Christmas present,” Mama said. “It’s just a little something I made for you and your wife.”

 “Now, you didn’t need to do that.  You’ve got enough to do without….” The old man was still protesting as he followed Mama into the house.

Pete lifted his head and sniffed. The air was much colder than it had been earlier and rain was coming soon.  He crawled out from under the porch and shook until his ears flapped.

He might be old, but he wasn’t too old to go find his boy and bring him home.

Pete Takes A Ride

 The man carefully placed the five-layer coconut cake on the hood of his car. He opened the door, turned back and picked up the cake and walked around the door and stopped. Sitting in the driver’s seat was a large dog.

  “We’re not going hunting today, Pete. Get on out now and go back home.”

 The dog stared straight ahead.

 “Dog, it’s cold. Move!”

Pete yawned but didn’t budge.

The old man opened the back door and placed the cake on the floorboard. He shut the door and turned back to look at Pete.

  “Last time I checked this car belonged to me and the Mechanics Bank.” He pointed to the passenger side of the vehicle. “I’m willing to let you ride, but I’m not letting you drive.”

 Pete looked at the man and then moved over.

 The old man stared for a minute before climbing in and shutting the door. Just as soon as things settled down after Christmas he was going to make that appointment his wife had been nagging his about and get his eyes checked.  Maybe she was right and he really did need stronger glasses, because he could have sworn that old coonhound grinned at him.

Pete Goes Hunting

Pete lifted his head and bayed. The old man slammed on the brakes as the prolonged yodel reverberated inside the car.

The moment the car came to a stop, the baying ceased. Pete looked from the car door handle, to the man and back to the handle. The old man reached over the dog and opened the door.  Pete hopped out. He looked back, wagged his tail and then headed toward Pine Hill without another backward glance.

The man reached over and closed the door. “I guess the world really is going to the dogs when coonhounds start traveling by automobile.” Still shaking his head, he steered the car toward Mudline Road and home.

Pete immediately dropped his nose to the ground and began tracking. Within seconds he had the scent and tore off as fast as he could through the underbrush, scrambling over old logs and bawling in full voice as he followed the familiar scent.   

 As the sun went down, the temperature began to drop. Soon the woods were filled with the sound of cold rain beating against dead leaves.

Pete’s breath was coming fast as he struggled to climb a steep hill. The scent was much stronger than it had been before. As he topped the hill, he spotted his boy. With a yowl of joy, he ran to the child.

“Pete! What are you doing here?” The boy tried to lift himself from where he was laying but couldn’t for the fallen tree that pinned him to the ground.

The dog dropped down beside the boy and rested his head on his shoulder. Several swipes of his large tongue cleared away a mixture of rain, tears and dirt from the boy’s face.

“I don’t know what happened.”  The boy turned his head to keep the rain from dripping into his eyes. “The tree was supposed to fall over there. Not fall on me.”

Suddenly the drizzle turned into a downpour.  Within moments the water was dripping through the branches and seeping through the boy’s jacket and shirt. He began to shake from the cold.

Pete moved closer, using his large, warm body to shield the child from the pounding rain. As the deluge persisted and the temperature continued to drop, the dog began to shiver.

Pete lifted his head. Something was coming through the underbrush. His eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, but before he ever caught a glimpse of the intruder his nose told him it was his old enemy – a raccoon.

He started to stand, but as soon as he moved the shivering boy moaned and reached out for him.  Pete knew he couldn’t leave the boy. He might not be able to tree that coon, but at least he could scare him to kingdom come. Pete threw his head back and sang. His voice sounded as strong and clear as when he was young.

In the distance, Pete could hear a voice calling his name. Mustering all his energy he answered. The calling and answering continued until there were three men gathered around the ragged-eared old dog. Pete’s eyes shown bright, even though his breath was all gone.

Pete began to shake. He put his head down and closed his eyes. His job was done.

The Christmas Gift

Wherever he was, it was filled with the most wonderful scents he had ever smelled. He struggled to open his eyes. The dark and cold were gone. He was wrapped in a soft blanket and the room was filled with warmth and light. In the corner was an enormous cedar tree covered with lights and shiny things were hanging from every branch. Beneath the tree was a stack of boxes decorated with ribbon.

Beside the big tree was a much smaller tree. Pete blinked and looked again. The little tree was the top from the big tree. Underneath the smaller tree was a single item.  The largest soup bone Pete had ever seen.

Pete sighed. Maybe this was the heaven he’d heard Mama and Daddy tell the boy about.

 “Pete!” The boy limped into the room and threw himself on the floor beside the dog. “You saved us!”

The dog closed his eyes and settled into the warmth of the boy’s embrace.

“Daddy and Joe and Brother came looking for us.  They walked and walked and then Daddy heard you. Brother said that Daddy picked that big ol’ tree right up all by himself and then he carried me all the way back to the truck. Joe told Daddy that it was a lot easier letting you ride than it was toting you.”

The boy looked over his shoulder. “Brother even brought the tree back, cause it just wouldn’t be Christmas without a tree.”

He drew a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “You wouldn’t wake up, Pete. Mama told Daddy that you might not and I was really scared, but you are awake and you know what, Daddy said that from now on you can sleep in my room. And that’s not all he told Mama. Daddy said that you could eat at the table too.” The boy paused to consider. “But I think he was just joking about that.”

“Slow down, son,” Daddy appeared and squatted beside the blanket. His big hand covered the top of dog’s head as he stroked gently. “You can tell Pete all about it later. Let your mother know that that he’s awake. She’ll want to fix something for him to eat.”

“Mama! Pete’s awake!”

Daddy shook his head in exasperation. “I meant go out to the kitchen and tell her, not yell so loud they can hear you over on Dupuy.”

The boy grinned sheepishly. “Yes, sir.”  He scrambled to his feet. “I’ll be right back, Pete.  You stay here with Daddy.”

The man continued to stroke, his fingers finding the exact spot that made Pete sigh.

“You’re a good dog.” He scratched behind one ragged ear. “A real good dog.”

Daddy’s voice sounded funny.

Mama came in the room carrying a plate. The wonderful scent Pete has smelled earlier was suddenly put down in front of him.

“You get turkey before anyone else,” the boy announced. “Cause Mama says that you’re a hero.”

“He certainly is,” Mama said. She glanced up at the clock. “Gracious look at the time. Son, turn on the radio. I want to hear what President Roosevelt has to say.”

The familiar crackle of static was soon replaced by the equally familiar tones of the President who began his Christmas message.

“The old year draws to a close. It began with dread of evil things to come and it ends with the horror of another war adding its toll of anguish to a world already bowed under the burden of suffering laid upon it by man’s inhumanity to man.

“But, thank God for the interlude of Christmas. This night is a night of joy and hope and happiness and promise of better things to come. And so in the happiness of this Eve of the most blessed day in the year I give to all of my countrymen the old, old greeting – “Merry Christmas – Happy Christmas.”