Blackie.

I got to spend a day this past summer with an old friend up on the mountain . We revisited some old memories and generally had a very good conversation. Not sure what was mentioned to bring up the thought, but at that moment another old friend came to mind. To this day whenever I am reminded of him I can't help but wonder what ever
became of Blackie.

You see, Blackie was homeless. It was right around 1969, a time in which being homeless was very unusual in small town Wyoming. None the less Blackie was homeless and so to make sure he never had to go hungry three families took it upon themselves to make sure he had at least one good meal a day. Mom was one of those who made sure Blackie didn't go without and the other two consisted of two of my aunts. One lived just down the street from us while the other one lived across town.

As the months went by Blackie became very stubborn. He showed up at our house in the mornings for breakfast and if he didn't like what was being served he would make his way to my aunts house just down the street. Once there if he failed to get what he wanted he would make his way across town to aunt number three. In one of the three households on any given morning he could always find what he wanted for breakfast. Being homeless I guess he felt he had all the time in the world and figured it was worth it to make the rounds.

As a kid getting ready for school I used to wonder why Blackie got to have what he wanted and I had to have creme-o-wheat or wheat puffs with powdered milk, watered down to look like milk, and very little sugar. It just was not fair. I came to resent Blackie. But Blackie was homeless, it was up to us to make sure he was fed.

"What about me?" I'd holler out as mom came into the kitchen.

"What about you?" Mom would ask

"Why does blackie get to eat what he wants and I have to eat puff wheats with no sugar and watered down powdered milk?"

"Just be glad you have something to eat, there are lots of kids in China who would like to have what you have" mom would say

"Yeah well I bet they would'nt even eat this stuff"

"Don't smart off to me young man"

"Well, I muttered to myself, it's not fair that he gets the good breakfast and us kids have to eat wheat puffs with instant milk no less. Ack, instant milk."

One day as I was sitting in the kitchen eating my cream-o-wheat with very little sugar I decided I had enough. Knowing where the sugar was kept I rushed to the cabinet, whipped open the door, reached in and grabbed the sugar, rushed back to the table and poured in more sugar than I maybe should have but I wanted some sugar in my cream-o-wheat dog gone it!!. After pouring it in I rushed back to the cabinet and put it away. All before mom came back into the kitchen. Whew,just in time.

Mom showed up just as I got the sugar mixed into the cream-o-wheat. All this time Blackie was sitting there watching me. I wondered what he thought but it was his fault I had to resort to such sneaky tactics.

Ack, oh crap!!! I said to myself as my face contorted into all kinds of evil looking and sick expressions. Oh lord what have I done!!

"What's wrong with you now?" mom asked.

Ack....cough....sputter...aaaaaaaaack. "nothing" I hacked at her.

"Keep it up buster,,,,and quit making those faces or one of these days it's going to stick"

"Nuh uh" I managed to say through the tears that were now begining to form.

"Eat your breakfast and knock it off before I knock it out of you, your going to be late for school"

I evidently didn't know the difference between sugar and salt, that's right, salt, Ack. I gave Blackie a dirty look and dared him to say something to mom. He didn't, and to this day I have never told mom about the salt in the cream-o-wheat incindent. I guess maybe because I could never forgot the incident with the beans and I hope to never have to experience that one again.

One morning not long after the salt in the cream-o-wheat incident I walked into the kitchen wiping the sleep from my eyes and sitting there waiting for breakfast was Blackie. On this paticular morning he was out of luck, unless he wanted wheat puffs with instant milk. Somehow I didn't think that would do for him. Blackie was way to picky. If he didn't get tortillas and fried eggs in the morning he wasn't happy. That's all he ate every morning. If not at moms then at one of my aunts. Every morning in those days one of the three households was having tortillas and fried eggs. Blackie just had to make the rounds. Which he did. He always got what he wanted for breakfast.

Lucky dog.

You see, Blackie was a five pound black pure bred homeless mutt.

No one ever knew what happened to Blackie. One day he just quit coming around.

Probably died of old age. :) Salt lol hope you never got stuck with spam :)

Carol if you only knew, hahaha. I have a spam story.