Digby and the Chitt'lins

It was a long and horrid trip from New York to South Carolina. I was in charge of the map and directions but couldn't get the pilot to follow orders. I'd say "turn here" and he'd say, "where, back there?" Of course. Turn around and go back...we had a warm conversation about how the pilot is supposed to listen to the navigator instead of admiring the scenery he's passing by. By warm, of course I mean heated. Digby was enjoying not being in the belly of the plane and she and the boys were having a fine old time in the back seat of the rental car I had wrested from the grasp of the self serving wench at the rental check out counter. There was much bouncing around and it began to wear on the nerves of the pilot who asked none to politely for them to "knock it off". So they settled down for awhile, we stopped and let Digby romp around at the rest station and then it was nap time for everyone who was residing in the back seat. Lucky them. We napped (he napped) a while, too, while I stood watch over my little family in case some ax wielding murderer should come screaming out of the trees. Then after about three hours we hit the road again. We arrived at Mama and Daddy's house about 10 in the morning, exhausted from the trip...I kept expecting to wake up any minute and find myself safely tucked up in my bed at home...in Beaconsfield. But no, it was no dream. Digby went to my mother immediately and it was love at first sight for both of them. Mama began referring to Digby as her "Granddog" and Digby worshipped at her feet as was her wont to do with me. Daddy groused about having a dog in the house (he wasn't up for it but Mama told him to go to his room, so he did.) One morning I couldn't find Digby and was frantically checking the house and the garden, where I found Mama...I asked her if she had seen Digby and she laughed and told me to go check in their room...sure enough, there she was, piled up in the bed with Daddy, who assured me she had horned in, he hadn't invited her...yeah, likely story since his hand was deep into the fur of her head and she was enjoying a rather intense massage. We only had a few days with my folks before we were headed to Mac's folks in Selma (Alabama) and Mama had been trying to convince me to leave Digby with her while we were gone. I kept insisting that I couldn't be parted with her...and I mean it, I really couldn't. I would have no more left her there than I would have left one of my furless children. One day Mama announced that she was going to fix chitt'lins for supper. I pleaded with her not to...I can't stand the thought much less the smell...but she was adament about it...she kept insisting that if I'd only try them once, I'd love them. That didn't work with the liver she was always pushing at me, so I saw no reason to believe it would work with the chitt'lins. For those of the yankee or not from the Southern States of America, that is properly spelled "c h i t t e r l i n g s" and if you want to know what it is, I'm sorry but you'll have to go look it up...the telling of it will make me heave...So, anyway, I had packed our stuff ready to leave the next morning for Alabama and was sitting at the long dining room table with my sister and brother drinking a cup of coffee and just chatting. I happened to look into the kitchen and saw Digby sitting close at Mama's knee. Mama was standing at the counter, cutting up the chitt'lins she had boiled ready to fry and I saw her hand dropping pieces of them to Digby, who was enjoying them with abandon! Nicole asked me what Mama was doing. I looked over at Mama, then back at Nicole...
"What's Mama doing? She's attempting to steal my dog! And if Digby thinks I'm cooking chitt'lins for her, she's got another think coming!"

Next Installment...we're caught in the middle of a gunfight or Welcome to the USA