After we ate, Mama would get the number three washtubs down from their nails and fix bath water for all of us and we’d get our only full bath of the week. Then, we would all pile into our Model T Ford and head for the bright lights of Rolling Fork, a town with a population of about eight hundred. My parents would purchase whatever staples we needed at the grocery store where, if I were good, I’d get to have a cold Orange Crush from the ice-water filled drink box. Most of the rest of the time would be spent sitting in the car watching people pass by on the town’s main street. We couldn’t stay late since we had to get home to do the milking and other chores before dark.

On this particular Saturday when the Model T rolled to a noisy stop beside the house, something was amiss. Ol’ Raymond did not come to the side gate to greet us. “Where’s Ol’ Raymond?” I asked.

“He’s probably run off chasing a rabbit or squirrel,” Mama responded.
“Naw,” my daddy replied, “he wouldn’t leave the house with no one here.” As he got out of the car, he added, “There he is lying up there on the porch.”
“Is he just asleep and didn’t hear the car?”
“He had to hear the car. He’s laying funny.”
“Do you reckon he’s sick? Do you think something’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know. Let me go see,” said Daddy as he moved toward the house.
We stood by the car and watched him walk up on the porch and squat beside the dog. He felt around on him, moved his legs, and examined him carefully around his head. The dog hadn’t moved. Daddy stood up and came slowly back to the car. He had a look on his face I’d never seen before. “He’s dead. Somebody poisoned him.”

Mama began to cry. Gene was too young to understand what had happened. I didn’t really understand either. I had heard about death, but I really didn’t comprehend what it meant. In my short life, no person or animal I had any connection to had died. I just knew that the feeling I was feeling inside was not good.

Daddy went back up on the porch, gently picked Ol’ Raymond up in his arms and carried him around to the back of the house. When he came back, we were still standing by the car. “The chores have to be done,” he said.

Mama went to milk and Daddy went to tend the livestock. Gene and I sat on the front porch. I kept wanting to see Ol’ Raymond come bounding around the house and up on the porch to greet me as he always did with his tail wagging as he administered wet licks to my face and hands. But it didn’t happen. I thought if I closed my eyes and wished hard enough, Ol’ Raymond would come. I tried. I tried real hard, but the only thing that came was the darkness.

Why would somebody poison a person’s dog? I’ve thought of that often since that day. Mama said it was just pure meanness. Daddy said that some people are always wanting to steal something and they just don’t like good watchdogs in general and they try to get rid of as many of them as they can. We surely didn’t have anything worth stealing. The most valuable thing we had was the meat in the smokehouse. Whoever did it knew we weren’t home, so he just walked by, threw a piece of poison-laced meat into the yard, and kept on going. When Ol’ Raymond knew something was wrong, he came to the front door for help, but there was nobody there to help him. Some lowdown human had done what the toughest coon in the swamp couldn’t do.

After supper Daddy got up from the table and said, “We’ll have to bury him.” He got a lantern and lit it and we all followed him out back. He stopped at the tool shed for a shovel and continued down the path that led to the field. When he located a suitable place near the corner of the backyard fence, he sat the lantern down and began to dig. The black buck-shot soil offered little resistance to the shovel and Daddy soon had the grave dug. Then, we all went up to one of the outbuildings where Daddy had put him. On the way back, Mama led the way with the lantern; Daddy came next carrying Ol’ Raymond; Gene and I stumbled along behind.

As Daddy was about to lay Ol’ Raymond’s stiffening body in the grave, Mama said, “Luke, we just can’t put him in the cold ground. Let me go get something.” She took the lantern and hurried back to the house returning shortly with an armload of newspapers. She got down on her knees and lined the grave with them. Daddy put him in and we all said goodbye. Mama covered him up with newspapers, tucking them in good so the dirt wouldn’t get on him. Then, we stood and watched as Daddy shoveled in the dirt.
As I stood there, I had a hurt somewhere down deep inside me that made me hurt all over. And the tears rolling down my cheeks didn’t help any. And that hurting stayed with me for a long time. I’ve experienced the deaths of my parents, grandparents, and numerous friends, but I don’t think my feeling of grief has ever been any greater than it was the night we put Ol’ Raymond in the ground.

Even as this was happening, I could not accept the fact that Ol’ Raymond was gone for good. I had seen Daddy plant things in the garden and corn and cotton in the big fields. Not long after the planting, green shoots would be pushing up through the ground. Why would this not be the same?

As Daddy was rounding off the dirt on the grave, I asked, “Daddy, will Ol’ Raymond come up?”

He stopped and leaned on the shovel for a few seconds before he answered, “No, son, he won’t.” But I persisted, “Daddy, I think he’ll come up.”

“No, son, I’m sure he won’t.”

But I would not accept that answer. I was sure Ol’ Raymond was going to come up out of that ground just like a stalk of corn did. For a long time, I went to his grave everyday and looked for a paw or his nose. No matter what anyone said, I just knew it would happen. In fact, I can remember two or three times going to my mother and saying, “I just passed Ol’ Raymond’s grave and I saw his nose sticking out. He’s coming up, Mama.” But each time I was told that it was just my imagination which, indeed, it was. Eventually, I had to accept as true what my parents were telling me. Death was final. I would never see him again.
Ol’ Raymond deserved better. He was a credit to his breed. He was faithful and brave. He helped his master in the hunt and he protected his family when he was gone. He didn’t deserve to be done in by a coward with some poison in a hunk of hog meat. It would have been better for him to have been bested by some tough old boar coon out in a bayou amongst the cypress knees and water snakes. That would have been a noble end for a noble dog.

 

One of the reasons why so many Christians have trouble trusting God, not just for the big issues in life, but for even the minute details of life is because we have so very little knowledge of Who God is to each of us personally.

Yes – we know the Lord Jesus as our personal Lord and Savior, but do we really have a full understanding of who and what God is to His children? His name reveals the many hundreds of different ways that we may know Him and the way He will work in our lives. That’s why the Psalmist makes a very clear statement of instruction for the believer…emphasizing that confidence in the name of God will result in complete trust in Him for every detail as it relates to the life of the child of God.

Could it be that one of the reasons why so many people have trouble trusting God is because they really just don’t know in Whom they trust?

When facing situations in life…many of which greatly shake us to the core…how do we respond as it relates to believing that God really is in control of our lives? We hear someone say, “Well, just trust in the Lord!” Of course, that is easy for them to say, right? It is a whole new ballgame when we are the one having to do the trusting!

As I have traveled throughout the nation, meeting literally thousands of people, I have found that people will approach me and share various needs with me. One may come and share a financial need…another a family need…and still another a physical need. I find myself saying to the one with the financial need, “No problem! God owns it all. He can meet your financial need!” Or one may have a physical need and I reply, “No sweat! God is the Great Physician. He is still in the healing business!”

The truth is – I find it real easy to trust God – in someone else’s life! My problem is when I have to trust God for needs in my own life. My dilemma begins when I have to – if you please – “practice what I preach!” Then it is a completely different issue or so it seems.
However, we all must get a grip on what it really means to trust God for every situation and circumstance in life. So go back to the first question – Why study the names of God?
Well, here are three tremendous facts that you will glean from a deeper understanding of knowing God’s name. You will discover:
A Saving Faith
A Singular Focus
A Secure Fellowship
God autographs His Book with His name. He wants you to understand that all throughout the Word of God – Who He is and What He desires to do for and with each of His children. God has a very definite and distinct plan for the believer and He doesn’t want you to miss it!

The fact that He loves you motivates Him to reveal Himself to you, through His name, in ways that you will never forget. A desire to trust Him more ought to cause you to want to know Him in a more intimate and personal way.

Someone once said, “You never get a second chance to make a first impression!” First impressions are often the more lasting impressions. This is true of a church. If a person comes to a local church for the first time – they are going to form an opinion – whether it’s positive or negative – and they will leave with an impression. But that impression will make the difference in whether they return or not.

It is important to understand that a first impression will then become a reputation. It it is an impression of love and friendliness…then a reputation will be established on that basis. If it is cold and indifferent… then that will be the reputation based on that first impression.
Who God is in your life will transmit an impression in the lives of people you meet.
If people see that you honor the Lord Jesus in your life – then the first impression will have a powerful impact in that person’s life. However, if there is a question as to the commitment you have to the living God – that, too, will make a mark for the cause of Christ.

We must have an optimistic attitude when it comes to God. In fact – someone asked me – “Why are you always so optimistic?” My answer was very simple. “You can’t really know God and be pessimistic!” I believe I am optimistic because very early in my life I met God as Elohim. I have never gotten over that meeting.

I don’t know what you are facing in your personal life. It may be problems in your home, problems with your health, problems on the job, problems with your finances, or problems with your future. But I will tell you this. If you will meet God as Elohim – it will radically, revolutionize your whole attitude toward those issues you face.

Genesis 1:1 – “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.”
This is the first impression of God. Now He could have used any one of over 700 names, but He chooses this name for your first impression.

So what are the lasting impressions He wants to leave upon our hearts by introducing Himself as Elohim?

Here are the lasting impressions that He wants to engrave on your heart as you look at every problem… every person…every purpose in your life.

I want to make a statement that I trust will become a conscious reality in your life on a daily basis. It is an important principle that on the surface, you might readily agree with; however, when you really contemplate the truth of it – you might become a little hesitant to fully comprehend its true reality in your life. But given time – you will see that it is a tremendous statement of the deep love that God has for every one of His children as He is doing all He can to reveal His everlasting compassion and commitment to each of us.
So take a deep breath – pause for just a moment – and then bathe in this realization of God’s revelation to you as Elohim. He goes! Say it out loud if it might help you.
• He is all you need.
• He has all you need.
• He is doing all you need done…Now!
HE IS ALL YOU NEED
God wants you to never forget that He is all you need! The name Elohim is in the plural. It is used over 3,000 times in the Bible and over 2,300 times it is used in the plural. Now notice God is in the plural, but He uses a singular verb. Why is this?

God wants you to know that in terms of His personality – He is – He has – and He is doing everything you need. He is totally sufficient for every need that you have in your life. God uses the plural of Elohim because the plural of Elohim embodies all the bodies to meet every physical need.

The heathen who have never met Elohim – those who have never placed their faith in the living God – have devised a very complicated system of deity. It was inconceivable to a heathen, an unbeliever, that one being could embody all the traits necessary to meet every physical need so they had all these deities created to meet every need.
The goddess of love
The sun god
The moon god
The god of the earth
The god of the sea
God is saying, by the name Elohim, I Am the one and only God of the universe. In fact, I once saw a sign that expresses it this way. “There is only one God and you are not Him!” Now I have met some who thought they were God and tried to act like God, but there is only One and none of us are Him.

He also embraces the Trinity which is necessary to meet all your spiritual needs. Elohim reflects a Triune God. He is the three in One.
God the Father – God the Son – and God the Holy Spirit
He meets every spiritual need. Think of it like this:
We need rules – so God the Father is the Judge and Justifier. We’ve broken those rules – so we need a Redeemer. He died on the Cross for our sin; was buried; and three days later rose from the grave a victor over sin – death – hell – Satan – and the grave. Therefore, we need a Resident – the Holy Spirit of God who comes to live in the heart of the believer.
He is all I need! If you will practice this principle concerning any trouble that you may suffer from regarding a person, a problem, a conflict, a circum-stance, then you can experience a spiritual freedom that you may have long been searching for in your life.

God – Elohim – is all you need! Here is what you will do. You will take whatever troubles you have to Him – Elohim – first, and stay there until He instructs you otherwise.

You’ll take it to Him! I know that may seem very difficult at first, because our human nature says, “I’ll take care of it! I’ll work it out! I’ll do whatever I have to do to solve my problems!” However, that is not meeting God as Elohim.

Elohim embodies all the traits necessary to meet every physical, spiritual, and emotional need that you may have. Elohim is all you need! Whatever you do with whatever troubles you – you will find the answer faster if you will go to Him and stay there until He instructs you otherwise – than you will in any other fashion.
HE HAS ALL YOU NEED
Look again at:
Genesis 1:1 – “In the beginning God (Elohim) created the heaven and the earth.”
God is Master over everything He creates. God has created everything that exists. There is not anything that exists that God has not created. You can’t think of anything that was not created by Him. Therefore, understanding this truth, there are some facts that you need to come to understand relating to God’s provision for your life.

It is His by virtue of His Creation

He has all you need because everything that exists is something that He created. Creation is not just a matter of God taking some pre-existing matter and rearranging it. Creation is a matter of God calling in to existence – by His Word – those things which never existed before. He made something out of nothing. There was not anything created until God spoke it into existence. That’s why there is unbelievable power in His Word.

It is His by virtue of His Control

God not only spoke this world into existence – but this world is also sustained by Him.
Hebrews 1:3-4 – “Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high; Being made so much better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name then they.”
It is His by virtue of Culmination

This means that the God who took nothing and made something is going to take something and make nothing out of it.

Revelation 21:1 – “And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea.”

Can you think of anything that you need that God doesn’t already have? How much of what you need does God have? To whom should you turn for the answer to your need?
Psalm 24:1 – “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.”

It is all His! The truth is…you don’t have a need for which He does not have a supply. You will never exhaust His supply. You should go to God first! Do you see how our focus keeps coming back to God? In fact – there’s not a person who would disagree that God is all you need and that God has all you need. But here is the real challenge of complete trust in the life of the believer.
(Check out Dr. David Davis’ book, “A Name You Can Trust!” for the rest of this chapter and more.)

 

I was born and raised in El Paso, and except for the two years in the United States Army, I never spent more than two weeks outside Texas. Correction! I worked the better part of a year in Albuquerque, NM, for their Chamber of Commerce but that area was once a part of Texas.

Provincial? Texas pride? Maybe some of both.

In my second semester as a sophomore at E.P.H.S. I was working construction on the Student Union at the College of Mines. The school officially opened on September 23, 1914, as The Texas State School of Mines and Metallurgy with 27 students in buildings at Fort Bliss. In 1919 the school’s name was changed to the University of Texas Department of Mines and Metallurgy, and in 1920 to the Texas College of Mines and Metallurgy (TCM). The school’s name changed again in 1949 to Texas Western College of the University of Texas (TWC). Finally in 1967 the school’s name changed for the last time to the University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP).

When I went off to college it was a 600 mile drive to The University, though today we have to add “of Texas at Austin.” Never did I suppose that the ding-a-ling college in our backyard at El Paso, Texas College of Mines and Metal-lurgy, would one day become the, yes, the University of Texas at El Paso, or UTEP. Say it more than once and it sounds like an Indian war whoop, doesn’t it?

U-T-E-P, U-T-E-P, U-T-E-P, U-T-E-P.
When I got to The University at Austin, of course, I took some flack from guys in the fraternity who asked me how I ever got into Texas, being from El Paso? Then I’d hear, “You’re not from Texas. You’re from New Mexico. Or is it Old Mexico?”
The issue of Texas citizenship comes up in a variety of ways. A basic question is, “What constitutes being an authentic Texan?”

Being born and raised on Texas soil is a sure answer expressed in one of our Texas anthems (should we call them hymns?). I’ll say being born here makes you a Texan, especially in our family.

You may think it ridiculous or quaint, but it’s true. When my oldest brother Frosty was a medical intern in Boston Children’s Hospital, his wife Betty was expecting. Dad, who by then had moved us from El Paso to San Antonio, shipped Frosty Jr. a cigar box of San Antonio dirt to smuggle into the delivery room at Boston Children’s Hospital so Forrest Moseley Smith, III, his grandson, could with certainty claim to have been “born on Texas soil.” Today he’s a really fine, superb even, real estate attorney here in Houston with a son Forrest Moseley Smith IV, who will in all likelihood will have a son. Cinco? Perhaps.
Like the Star Spangled Banner in which “free” is the highest of the high notes, so also is “soil” in the anthem, The Eyes of Texas.

True Texans know the songs, but we seldom sing ‘em as hymns except on Texas Independence Day (March 2nd), or San Jacinto Day, which is April 29th. These are still holidays for orthodox Texans, and including Ben Franklin.

I always heard that if you have a problem hitting the highest of the high notes (like “free” or “soil”), either Jack Daniels or Johnny Walker can help. But that was in boyhood days before AC was perfected when our family would sneak off in late July to Cloudcroft, NM to enjoy air conditioning naturally at 9,000 plus feet altitude. (Say it with a lilt. Come on now, “naturally!”)

Regarding Texas citizenship, one might ask about other ways to attain it like “jus boli,” one’s right as a direct descendent of a Texas citizen. Or you might ask, “Can a person take some kind of an exam to qualify for becoming a Texan or make it as in taking Texas History?”

It used to be that if you went to public schools in Texas, you had to take Texas history two or three times, as well as exams that go with it. By Texas law I took Texas history in Dudley grade school, as well as at El Paso High School, and again when I attended The University, yes at Austin).

Even though my wife Charis was working on her master’s degree at LSU when she moved here from Shreveport, she still was required to take Texas History before she could teach in any Texas grade school.

Texas history is a unique and wonderful subject! At Live Oak Ranch, our family place near Bergheim, my oldest brother and I started collecting books with “Texas” in the title. Ask yourself, does any other state have anything like the Texas Almanac, encompassing data on all 254 of our counties, some of them bigger than a half dozen eastern United States?
Texas alone has a comprehensive encyclopedia entitled “The Handbook of Texas,” which was first published in two volumes by the Texas State Historical Association in 1952. Now it’s up of five volumes, with most articles the work of PhD candidates in history at The University of Texas at Austin.

While textbooks and histories of Texas abound, Lone Star, by T. R. Fehrenbach who lives in San Antonio, stands in a class by himself. Dr. Fehrenbach holds a PhD in history from Yale and his writing is both prodigious and prolific. Fehrenbach has more love of Texas in his little finger than most Texas legislators have in their whole bodies, and a whole lot more integrity. To hear him talk Texas history is like taking a drink from a fire-hose or it’s best just to read his classic, Lone Star, so you can enjoy it at your own pace.

At the UT Law School in the ’50s there was a professor, Judge Stayton, who authored Texas Civil Procedure, a textbook so big that law students like my brother Paul almost needed a hand truck to manage it. Law students used to say, “Taking Procedure from Judge Stayton is like taking the Bible from God.”

Something like this might be said of Dr. T. R. Fehrenbach’s definitive Texas history set forth in Lone Star. Though he never taught professionally, his single volume is comprehensive and must reading for literate Texans.

I have developed a theory on Texas citizenship that I think holds up consistently. It can be tested on most any Texan you care to nominate, heroes such as Houston, Crockett, Travis, Milam, Bowie, the original three hundred, or your favorite living Texas ex-governor. Perhaps you moved here hoping to get away from other impediments.

It boils down to this: An authentic Texan must be flawed or illegitimate in some respect.
Some years ago, I started collecting biographies of Sam Houston. To say that he was a complex character is manifestly correct. It is my estimate that the total universe of Sam Houston biographies is over a hundred volumes of which I might have a third today. In candor, I’ve not read them all. But I assure you that books about Sam Houston that go down the trail of making him a scout altogether trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, etc., are into deep fiction.

Back to our overarching question of what makes an authentic Texan, you might ask questions like, “How long do you have to live in Texas before you’re naturalized?
When does the claim become valid?

What about one’s identity and family?

What proof of character can you hope to show? What about felony offenses, if any? Health?

Any contagious or social diseases?

What occupations or marketable skills should a Texas immigrant bring?”

Stop! Stop! Stop!

Go down your list. Houston lived for years in a drunken stupor with Indians who called him “Big Drunk.” Crockett, considered a statesman, was but marginally literate. Travis was a wide-ranging womanizer. A lot of early Texans came here to get away from debts. Most of the people who came to Texas were trying to make a fresh start, and that’s why they tacked up signs or painted GTT on their old home places.

“Gone To Texas.”

When early Texans got here they found a lot of other GTT folks making fresh starts, too. They got right down to business rather than wasting time checking credentials, credit ratings, pronunciations or family pedigrees. My great-grandfather Samuel Fountain Moseley summarized it well when he settled in Jefferson, Texas, then a port and the third largest “city” of Texas. He said, “Count every man in Texan honest until he proves himself otherwise.”

Texas has always been a great business state, and that’s a big part of the reason for its greatness; also, the high level of confidence and acceptance are factors in our prosperity. Who cares about how well-connected you are or whether you’re descended like Bostonians from Cabots or Lodges? Who cares if you roll your “r’s” or not, or hold your fork right, or scratch yourself in public, or pick your nose, or scratch your rear in public places.

In the final analysis, the mark of an authentic Texan and only dependable criteria for Texas citizenship is this: You must have at least one obvious blemish or defect embarrassing to yourself or others.

Do you qualify? You don’t even have to tell us what it is.

We’ll take you like you are.

Welcome to Texas!

 

I never knew why we tacked the first part on. He surely was not old. I suppose it was a title of affection or endearment.

Ol’ Raymond was a red-bone coon hound and a credit to his breed. He was a big dog. I’m sure he seemed big to me because I was so small. But the pictures verify his size. Judging from the size of Gene, my brother, I was somewhere between three and four years old. In one, I am standing at his shoulder and Gene sits astride him like he’s riding a horse. The dog and I are about the same height. In another, he carries both of us on his back with ease. As I said, he was a big dog.

He was an outside dog. In that time and place, no one kept a dog in the house. He generally slept on one of the porches in warm weather. In the winter, he would scratch himself out a depression under the house on the south side of the chimney base and use the warm bricks for heat.

Ol’ Raymond was a very protective dog. As I roamed about the farm, I knew that I had nothing to fear from anything or anybody as long as he was with me. In fact, he was the protector of the whole family. My daddy was sharecropping a new-ground farm in the western part of the Delta toward the River. After crops were laid by and during the winter, he was away from home a lot doing carpentry work. We had an unpainted picket fence around the yard and I heard my mama say on more than one occasion, “No, we’re not afraid to be here by ourselves. Ol’ Raymond won’t let anyone inside that fence when Luke’s gone.” Ironically it was this protectiveness that would prove to be his undoing.

My daddy hunted a lot to put meat on the table. He also ran a trap line trapping mostly mink and raccoon for their pelts. I’m sure the skins didn’t bring much by today’s standards, but in the mid ’30s, any extra income was a bonus. There were usually several skins drying on stretcher boards out by the smokehouse.

He also went coon hunting at night with other men who had coon dogs. They would always come back with coons, but this type hunting was mostly for sport. This was where Ol’ Raymond really proved his mettle. Men would come from miles around to run their dogs with him, and I never tired of hearing the stories my daddy told about his prowess in the hunt. My favorite was his confrontation with Pegleg.

Pegleg was a big boar coon who ranged around the nearby bayous. He’d been trailed but never treed, seen but never caught. He got his name because of a missing paw. That leg ended in a stump which left a very distinctive track in the soft, swampy ground. My daddy theorized that the missing paw was chewed off by the coon himself when he got caught in a trap and could free himself no other way. Coons were known to do that.

Anyway, by this time Pegleg was old and grizzled and smart. He knew how to avoid traps and he also knew any number of ways to throw off a pack of dogs who were hot on his trail. Sometimes he would backtrack on his trail and go off in another direction through the trees leaving no scent on the ground. Or he would swim down a creek or crisscross a creek several times to cause the dogs to lose his trail in the water. As a result, Pegleg had never been treed.

One night the men turned the dogs loose and they struck a hot trail immediately. They ran almost in a circle and soon their trailing bark changed to one that told the men that they had their quarry at bay very close by. The hunters hurried toward the sound and came to the bank of a large bayou. The coon’s tracks showed the missing paw. It was Pegleg. Only he wasn’t up a tree. He was too smart for that. The dogs had apparently picked up his trail very close to him and pushed him so hard that he had no opportunity to use any of his tricks. But the old coon wasn’t giving up by any means. The light from the carbide headlamps reflected off his eyes as he sat on a log out in deep water waiting. The other dogs stood on the bank barking. Ol’ Raymond was swimming out to get the coon.
Now, the last place a dog wants to confront a coon is in water. A coon will usually wrap himself around the dog’s head, forcing it under the water while keeping his own above the surface. In a very few minutes a big coon could drown a dog or whip him so badly that he would leave the fray.

Of course, my daddy had a gun and could have shot the coon, but the dog had brought him to bay and the sporting thing was to allow the dog to try to finish the job even if he got killed in the process.

But Ol’ Raymond had fought coons in water before and come out the winner. Instead of trying to hold his head up when the coon climbed aboard, he would do the opposite and push the coon under water, causing him to release his hold to get to the surface. After two or three repetitions of this, Ol’ Raymond would get the coon worn down and get his jaws on the coon’s neck, ending the fight. But this was not just any coon.

Sure enough, when Ol’ Raymond got to the log, Pegleg attacked. He jumped on the dog’s head and began biting him about the ears and neck. Ol’ Raymond rolled him under and broke the hold. They surfaced and the process was repeated and then repeated again, and again, and again, until my daddy lost count. He confessed that at that point he was wishing he’d shot the coon, but it was too late for that. The two combatants were throwing up so much spray and foam from the murky water and were so closely intertwined that a shot would just as likely hit the dog as the coon. The fight was both furious and long–longer than any fight like this these men had ever seen. Suddenly, the coon let out a squeal that told them that Ol’ Raymond had the coon in his jaws and the fight was over. He tried to drag Pegleg to the bank but was so exhausted that the men had to wade out and help him. The men vowed that they had never seen such a fight in all their years of coon hunting and Ol’ Raymond’s fame spread even farther. The tear in his ear and the cuts on his face and head would heal and be worn as proudly as a dueling scar–the marks of a coon dog who had fought and won.