I was reminded by my mother yesterday that some of the memories I’m sharing here are a teensy bit…shall we say flawed. I called to thank her for her annual shipment of Christmas meat (via Omaha Steaks), and I asked her if she’d read my most recent post.
“Oh yeah,” she replied, “but I wanted to tell you that what you wrote on that one blog wasn’t right. Our dawg’s name wasn’t SCOUT! Where’d you come up with that?”
I paused…WHAT? Of course it was Scout…wasn’t it? “Huh? What was it?”
“Don’t you remember? Your grandmother got that dawg and named it after her favorite TV show…Cheyenne.”
My head was spinning! I just knew to my core that the damn dog (that I don’t remember ever actually seeing) was named Scout. I also couldn’t imagine that my grandmother had been the instigator of the dog situation…it reeked of my granddaddy.
“Mama…are you sure? Why on Earth would Grandmama have gotten a dog anyway? Y’all don’t seem to have exactly been dog people…”
“I think because Granddaddy probably told her she couldn’t.”
NOW it all made sense.
And so ‘Cheyenne the Rebellion Dawg’ has now replaced ‘Scout the Plain Old Door-Scratching Dog’ in my mental Rolodex.
I googled Cheyenne to find a picture for this post, and in doing so realized that Clint Walker was the TV star who played him. THEN I remembered that an old boyfriend used to tell a story about living in a trailer park in Los Angeles back in the 1980’s, and he swore that his neighbor was CLINT WALKER…ahem…Cheyenne! And so it turns out that there are only two degrees of separation between me and my grandmother’s hunky TV star crush!
Oh, and Google also told me that the character Cheyenne was a former Army SCOUT.
I love it when life gives you a big old reminder that it’s all just a damn circuitous journey that doubles up on itself if you give it half a chance, and I can practically hear Grandmama hooting over this one (wherever she is).