I stood at attention in front of his desk. The Provost Marshal sat there, arms flinging and bouncing up and down in his chair as he chewed my ass out, something about my allegedly shooting a dog in the cantonment area with a shotgun. I will guarantee you he had no lost love for the dog. Undoubtedly, the man that was throwing the book at me was the most notorious dog hater of all times. Most high ranking officers studied tactics of war. This baboon thrived on the subject of the tactical eradication of the dog population on Fort Gordon, even to the point of extinction. Did I fail to say,”THIS GUY HATED DOGS”!
Then! “Holy Crap”! I could hear the unmistakable clicking sound of bare canine toe nails as the animal pawed its way down the hallway tiles, peering into offices along the way and leaving a ruckus behind. He was using his nose to track me down . That just couldn’t be, Jim never left the vehicle after being told to “stay”. I stood there, still at unblinking attention. Nothing was visible to me except a red faced raging Colonel seemingly hanging off of the end of my nose. My eyes remained straight ahead but my peripheral vision was straining. I couldn’t see down, but the clicking sound stopped at my right boot. Surely, the animal could detect that I was sweating awful heavily down my right britches leg.
The fiery eyed Colonel jumped up, his rolling chair slammed the wall behind him. He leaning forward as he peered over the desk at the sight of a full grown short haired dachshund “WHAT IN THE NAME OF SAM’S HELL IS THAT THING SPECIALIST CRIPPS”? With your permission Sir, that is Corporal Slim Jim Sir, Deputy Fort Gordon Game Warden reporting for duty, Sir.
“HORSE PISS”, “WHAT IS HE DOING HERE”? “Sir”, he lives here. “NEXT YOU WILL BE TELLING ME THAT HE PAYS THE GOVERNMENT ROOM AND BOARD”, “AND PRAY TELL”, ”IS HE EATING GOVERNMENT FOOD TOO”? “Sir”, “he earns his keep by guarding my government owned office and he eats the same thing that I do”. “SO NOW”, “YOU JUST ADMITTED”, “HE DOES EAT AT THE EXPENSE OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT”! “No Sir”. “Not at all Sir” “You Sir”, “ just last week told me that the Army chow wasn’t fit for a dog”. “Jim here, is just disposing of substandard food at no expense to the government”. “I might add”, “Sir”, “that I have been testing your army chow theory”, “and I think that you just might be right” “Sir”, I haven’t caught a single dog in my army chow baited traps in over a week now”.
“WHERE DID YOU GET THIS CREATURE”? “Sir, I picked him up, running loose in front of the hospital a short while ago. “I just haven’t”, ”in the last few months”, “managed to make it to the Vet’s office to drop him off during business hours. “CRIPPS, YOU GET THAT DAMMED HOUND DOG OUTA HERE”, “RIGHT NOW,” “AND TAKE JIM BY THE VETS OFFICE”. “YOU TELL BERNIE THAT I SAID HI”, “and you get that dog a rabies shot, and some proper food for you and the dog”. “DON’T LET ME HEAR ANYTHING ELSE OF IT”.
Slim Jim remained a loyal partner and died as a result of being run over by a car three years later.
James M. Cripps
UA Army Game Warden
1967-1970
VA THE REDNECK WAY, YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO IT ALONE! 