We Sho’ Gonna Miss That Dog

By Boss Monkey

Back in the old, old days, Uncle Coochie’s grandfather and my great-grandfather, Sam Ben, owned a big ol’ stretch of land that backed right up to the Waccamaw River. That Lowcountry soil was as black and rich as a preacher’s voice on Easter Sunday—some of the best farm dirt in the South.

Sam Ben raised cotton, tobacco, peanuts, and corn by the wagonload, and just about everything he planted came up singin’. Folks from all over eastern South Carolina knew his name. Not just for his farming skills—which were legendary—but for being honest, kind, and full of neighborly heart. The stories about him still float through our family like porch breeze on a hot day.

Now, Sam Ben had himself a dog. Deacon was his name.

A brown-and-white English pointer, Deacon was the picture of bird-dog perfection. The High Bishop of hunting dogs, folks used to say—smart, fast, and pretty as a painted pony. But more than that, Deacon was loyal. That dog stuck to Sam Ben like a tattoo on a sailor. Where you saw one, you saw the other. They were a matched pair.

We all grew up knowin’ the tale I’m about to tell. It’s one of them family yarns that gets passed down, laughed over, and maybe even cried about a little, depending on who’s tellin’ it.

One year, Sam Ben had to take a long trip to Norfolk for business. No trains or motorcars back then—he traveled by horse and buggy to Charleston, then caught a steamer up the coast. Took him near two weeks just to get there, and he stayed gone close to three months.

When he finally made it back to Charleston, his old estate foreman, known simply as Old Man Boy, came to fetch him home.

Now Old Man Boy had been born on the Monkey Ranch and worked that land near his whole life. He was more than an employee—he was Sam Ben’s right hand, his trusted confidant, and a walkin’, talkin’ history book of the place. Been chief foreman going on thirty years, and only just started passin’ duties off to his oldest boy. Old Man Boy always referred to his boss as Mister Sam.

As they rolled out of Charleston, clippity-cloppin’ along the road toward home, Sam Ben leaned over and asked,

“So, how are things back at the ranch? Everything all right?”

Old Man Boy nodded, reins loose in his weathered hands.

“Mr. Sam, things is pretty good. The corn’s about tall as me, cotton’s up to your knees, and the tobacco leaves done touched in the rows. The Lord’s been kind with the rain this season. Looks like we got us a good crop comin’ in.”

“Well, that’s mighty fine to hear,” Sam Ben smiled. “I sure have missed home. I can’t wait to put my feet on Monkey Ranch dirt again.”

Old Man Boy squinted at the horizon, then cleared his throat.
“Well… there is just this one thing I needs to tell you.”

Sam Ben tensed up just a hair.
“Go on.”

“You know that dog of yours, Deacon?”

“Of course I do. What about him?”

Old Man Boy sighed.
“Well, boss, I hate to say it, but old Deacon done died.”

Sam Ben just about fell out the buggy.
“DIED? Deacon is DEAD?!”

“Yes sir. He ate that burnt horse meat, and it killed him dead.”

Sam Ben’s jaw dropped like a busted gate.
“Burnt horse meat?! What in the world? Where would Deacon find burnt horse meat?”

“It was in the barn,” Old Man Boy replied, matter-of-fact.
“That’s where he found it.”

“In the barn? How in tarnation did burnt horse meat get in my barn?”

Old Man Boy looked off toward the tree line, his voice calm and careful.
“Well, your barn caught fire. Burned it all the way to the ground. Nothin’ left but soot and ashes. And… you know that prize golden stallion—the one you won all them races on?”

Sam Ben nodded slowly.

“Well, that horse was still in the barn when the fire come. Got burned up in there with everything else. When Deacon got to nosin’ around, he found what was left of that horse, and… well… he ate some of it. Next morning, we found ole Deacon dead. Sho’ was a bad, sad thing.”

Sam Ben sat stunned.
“My horse too? Lord have mercy. How did the barn catch fire?”

Old Man Boy shrugged.
“We think it was a spark from the house. The spark from the roof jumped onto the barn. Barn caught up real fast with all that dry pine wood, and it burned the barn slam to the ground, with that horse still inside. Like I said—then Deacon got in there, ate that burnt horse meat, and died in his sleep.”

Sam Ben gripped the buggy rail, red-faced and quiet.
“Wait—the house was on fire too?”

Old Man Boy nodded solemnly.
“Yes suh, Boss. Pretty sure the fire started with a candle. Breeze from the livin’ room window tilted it onto the curtain. That curtain blazed up, fire ran up the wall, and before we could do nothin’, the roof was a-blazin’. All that pine wood and sap didn’t stand a chance. Then a spark from the roof jumped to the barn and—well… you already know the rest.”

Sam Ben leaned back, eyes wide. He was beginning to catch a case of the high blood.
“Why in the world was there a lit candle in the living room?”

Old Man Boy’s face went soft.
“Well, boss, that there candle was on the casket.”

Sam Ben blinked.
“Casket?”

“Yes sir. Your mama passed while you was gone. Took sick with the gallopin’ consumption. Couldn’t shake it. Went real peaceful. We laid her out in that blue dress she always liked—looked just like her eyes. Lord knows your mama had the bluest blue eyes ever was. Had her in the livin’ room so folks could pay their respects. Candle was for the vigil. But then that breeze came through and… tilted the candle onto the curtain. Then the fire run up the curtain and, the next thing you know, the fire gets to the roof. The spark from the roof jump over to the barn. Yes, I can see your mama right here in my mind’s eye with them blue, blue eyes. And, as I said before, that barn burned slap to the ground. Well, I done told you the rest.”

Sam Ben just sat there. Couldn’t say a word.

Old Man Boy clucked the reins and the buggy rolled on.

After a long moment, he looked over and said gently,
“Well, Mr. Sam, it sho’ is good to have you home. Seems like every time you leave, things get slow and dull.”

He pointed toward the fence line.
“Look there yonder—that’s the gate. We’re almost home. This trip sure went by quick, didn’t it? We always talk like time don’t mean nothing.”

Then, as if it was the only thing that really stuck with him through the whole tale, Old Man Boy shook his head one last time and added:

“Yes sir… we sho’ gonna miss that dog.”