August 11, 1965
Jocie Brooke here, reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Do you like trying to see things in clouds? I do sometimes. I took this picture. Well, not really on purpose. Zella would have a fit if she thought I was wasting film on clouds, but I slipped when I was trying to take a cow picture for the paper and took the sky instead. I don’t know why people wouldn’t just as soon see clouds as a cow, but Dad says they wouldn’t. That farmers like pastoral scenes in their paper.
Anyway, once the picture was taken, it was taken. Wasted film or not. Now I’m seeing an angel in the cloud. Wes says I’m using more imagination than eyesight, but if I want to see an angel where there’s nothing but fluffy puffs of white, then that’s fine. He says a person should see things they like to see when they look at clouds. I asked him what he saw. He looked at the picture a long time and then said he saw race tracks for invisible sky racers. Zella said we were both wrong. That anybody could see the lion’s face in the middle of the cloud. Plain as day.
Dad said he saw clouds. Said he liked clouds just the way they were, that he spent so much time under the ocean in that submarine during the war that he was always blessed by the sight of blue sky and clouds.
So what do you see here?
Poor Bailey in my story doesn’t like dark clouds, but sometimes the storm clouds come. Right now he’s having trouble figuring out a way to get out of the fenced in yard. Remember the part of the story that I’ve already written is on the Bailey’s Bug link at the top of my report if you want to catch up. I’m thinking I should have cut out some of the beginning and jumped to the action faster. I think there’s going to be some action. I think. Anyway, here’s the next couple of pages.
but all that did was pinch his nose between the wire links. With a yowl, he plopped down in the shade with his paw over his face.
the fence again looking for a weak spot. In the far corner a little hole showed
up under the bottom of the fence. He began pawing at it to make it bigger, but
Mr. Robinson ran out, grabbed his collar and gave him a shake.
too little to fit his head through, much less the rest of him. Even if he could
sneak around and dig when the Robinsons weren’t paying attention, it would take
a lot of digging, and his toenails where already sore. There had to be a better
way. Bailey went back to the middle of the yard.
headed toward the back door. Maybe the gate wasn’t fastened tight. Bailey took
off and banged into the gate. It gave just enough for him to squeeze his head
through, but then the gate bounced back and caught his neck.
Mr. Robinson came to rescue him.
Mr. Robinson pushed open the gate to let Bailey get his head free. “You got
someplace you want to go?”
jumped up on the gate. He wagged his tail as fast as he could. Maybe Mr. Robinson
understood what he wanted to do.
dog. You don’t really want out there. Nothing but trouble out there for a dog
like you.” He took hold of Bailey’s collar and led him toward the back door.
up from her nap with her I-told-you-so look. He didn’t wait for her to say it
out loud. He said, “I’m going. Tomorrow.”
claws on the back of the recliner. “Don’t bother waking me to say goodbye.”
That’s all I got written this week. When I wasn’t at the newspaper, I had to help Aunt Love with the green beans somebody at church gave her. Stringing beans takes forever. But I’ll figure out how Bailey gets out of that fence sooner or later. Do you have any ideas?