Archive for September, 2011

Spay! Neuter! Don’t Be A Polluter! (Part 2)

September 29, 2011

Remember these kids?

They came to have their first booster shots!

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Yes, they are adorable, but still.  Spay!  Neuter!

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What Goes In, Must Come Out, Part 2

September 22, 2011

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Almost 1 week after being shot through with a target arrow, he’s on the road to recovery.  An X-ray revealed that one lung is collapsed.

Dr. George Mosse of Ireland and SC

September 19, 2011

One of Sugar’s ancestors is Dr. George Mosse who lived in Revolutionary times.  George and his wife Dorothy Phoebe Norton Mosse had seven daughters, three of whom married Lawtons.

You can read a bit about Dr. George Mosse here.  You can also do an internet search for more of the standard information about George Mosse.

Sugar’s uncle Edward Lawton wrote several books, one of them being Saga of the South.  Edward mentions a tidbit about Dr. George Mosse, who was captured by the British.  While a prisoner on a ship, he spotted an island that he knew to be friendly, and he slipped overboard and swam underwater for as long as he could, and made his way to safe territory.  He and his family lived on St. Helena’s Island in the Beaufort District, later moving to Savannah for better educational opportunities for his family, and then moving to Black Swamp, SC, an area now close to Garnett.

*****

Last Saturday early, by 7 AM, I was doing some bookwork at home on my laptop for Sugar’s new grooming and boarding business, when he called to remind me to pick up some supplies at the building supply center for a project at the business.  But first I had to head over to the grooming business because there were some boarders who needed to be fed and walked.  I took care of the boarders, and the resident cats, Errol, Car E., and Gerald (who still needs a home, y’all).  I stopped at the Burger King for a breakfast biscuit and some coffee, and for a brief moment wavered between going there or to the Waffle House.  Then I stopped at the post office for stamps and to check the post office box.  Next I headed over the Sugar’s to get his van to transport the supplies.  I got the van with no problem and headed to the home supply store, when I got a phone call to meet someone back at the grooming business for boarding.  So I deviated over to wait on the boarder. 

This was unusual activity for me for a Saturday.  I like to sleep late, and generally don’t accomplish very much.  I was eager to get back to the accounts for the business, because I’m using a new program, and I’d just about figured it out.  It was weighing heavy on my mind to get this task accomplished. 

The boarder finally showed up, and I headed over to the home supply store, made my purchase, and it was loaded into the van.  I headed back to Sugar’s to leave the van with its cargo, and to trade out the vehicles, when I spotted a beauty/barber shop, and desperately needing a haircut, I pulled in.  The woman said the haircut would be $10.  My wallet was empty, and I realized that my emergency stash was in my car, and I was in Sugar’s van.  I asked the woman if she would take a check and she said no, so I told her I’d be back in 15 minutes.  On the way back to the van, I reached in my pocket for the keys, and I found that I had some money in my pocket after all, easily enough for a haircut, and for one moment I stopped, looking at the money in my hand, not sure what to do.  Do I go back in the shop or do I go get my car?  Another vehicle pulled into the parking lot, and a fellow that I had just seen at the home supply store went into the shop, so that sealed my decision.  I’d go on, get my car, and come back. 

I pulled into his driveway when I noticed something that looked like a small dog curled up in front of Sugar’s address sign.  But that didn’t make sense.  It’s a busy highway and why would a dog just curl up there?

I rolled down the window with one hand and reached for the camera with the other.  I thought the dog would run when he saw me, but he just looked mournfully at me, and turned his head away.  I could see blood on his muzzle and on his front feet, and there were a few splashes on his coat.

He let me pat his head with one hand while I called a local vet’s office on my cell phone.  I scooped him up and put him in the van, then drove on down Sugar’s driveway, and transferred him into my car.  I called Sugar and told him that I was enroute to the vet’s with a dog from his driveway.

The vet found no broken bones and only an abrasion on his right front foot that was deep enough to bleed freely, but the blood had already started to clot.  When they asked if he had a name, I popped out with “George Mosse”.  They looked confused at each other, and I explained, “Well, of course, George Mosse, the famous Revolutionary patriot that is Sugar’s ancestor”, and they said, “Yes.  Of course”.  A little clean-up, and a rabies shot, and we were on our way, back to the grooming business that was starting to look like a shelter.

George Mosse at the ready with a saber and cat trap.

Later, when Sugar got finished working for The Man, we went to the business so he could meet George Mosse.

Sugar fills the food and water bowls at the cat station at the business.

But how did our George Mosse come to be curled up at the end of Sugar’s driveway?  Sugar has a theory.  Our George Mosse was a captive on a vehicle, and he sensed a friendly island in hostile territory, and he flung himself from the ship, causing bodily harm to himself, and made his way to a friendly land.

Yeah, I didn’t get the books finished nor did I get a haircut.

Dr. George Mosse from Ireland

September 17, 2011

What do this dog and Dr. George Mosse of Ireland have in common? 

Stay tuned for the full report!

What Goes In Must Come Out

September 16, 2011

A hysterical woman called the vet’s office where I work.  It seems that her dog had been shot clear through with an arrow. 

I really don’t even have the words to express how I feel about this, so I’ll just show you some photos.  There’s nothing too grim, but still.  Shocking.

In.

Out.

In and out.

Out.

The authorities were called and they found the guilty party.  A six-year-old boy.

[Edited later the same day:  the hysterical woman, still in a panic stage when the officers made their report back to her, heard them say “six-year-old”.  The true age of the child is “six-teen”.]

Carheart and Errol

September 13, 2011

Not long ago, Sugar heard his dogs kicking up a ruckus at the fence.  He looked out, and saw nothing, and told the dogs to stop.  Being obedient, perfect dogs, they did not stop, but kept barking at Sugar’s van parked outside the fence.

Being the attentive, perfect dog owner that he is, Sugar went outside the fence, but could see nothing.  However, he heard a tiny *mew*.  A very tiny one.

He looked around the van.  Nothing.  (*mew*)

He got the keys, unlocked the van, and looked inside, already knowing that there was nothing in the van.  Nothing.  (*mew*)

He opened the hood of the van, and there, perched down inside the van’s engine, was a tiny kitten.  (*mew*)

So he spoke to her, and she came to him.  And then he put her in a humane trap for safe-keeping until he could decide what to do with her, as if the decision weren’t already made.

Let me insert here that about two months ago, Sugar bought a local grooming business.  The kitten came along right after he had signed the papers and the business was officially his, but not yet open for business.  We decided that she could go stay at the business because there were plenty of cages available (as if she would actually live in a cage), and then we could decide what to do with her.

In the meantime, Sugar fell in love with her and named her Carheart, not Carharrt, because she was found in the heart of a car.  He calls her Car E. (or Karree). 

Car E. then fell in love with Errol the former feral who was also living at the business.  (It was a good thing that Sugar bought a business with room for stray cats.)  Errol is the one with the ruptured lens on his left eye which looks a little wonky but doesn’t slow him down.  At all.

We’ve been wondering about making the cat room more interesting for the two stray kittens who now own the grooming business.  Yes, I did say “Room”, for they are not living in the cages, and if anyone of you out there thought that those cats would live in cages, you must go immediately to the nearest realityometer and have your reality tested.  Both cats showed negative for feline aids and feline leukemia, and it was safe to let them meet.  We looked at those awesome climbing towers at PetSmart, and I cringed at the thought of spending the money when we have boards and lumber in a back room of the grooming salon, and all we have to do is build one.  So simple.

I looked for a climbing tower on craigslist, and found none, so we decided to commit to one at PetSmart.  And as luck would have it, they were no longer on sale. 

But!  We DID find this scratchy-thingy shaped like a letter “S” on its side.  It was a real hit.  Car E dove under immediately to play with the feather that was suspended on the underside, like a mini-boxing bag.

Errol: "CarHead. Won't. Share."

Car-E: "Is this what crack is like?" Errol: "And now I will play the first movement of Beethoven's Fifth".

Errol: "Car-E, can I play with it please? I asked real nice."

Car-E: "I'm drunk."

Car-E stops for refreshments. Errol can't believe his luck.

Errol: "Anybody want my little sister? I'll make you a really good deal."

A Cat, A Trap, and a Saber, Or In Which One Thing Leads to Another

September 6, 2011

I headed home a few days ago after being out and about, and as I turned down my little road, there was a woman walking on the side of the road near the shade tree club.  The club had done a good business that day, what with it being Labor Day, or UnLabor Day, at this particular club.  The woman was carrying a can of beer, unopened, and was strolling about on the side of the road, trying to evade a black cat. 

Now this just looked like a story waiting to be told.  The cat kept following her, and she side-stepped, and stopped, and started, and generally was unsuccessful in eluding the cat who seemed intent on staying with her.  I rolled down the car window, and asked if the cat was hers.  I didn’t recognize it as one that frequents my feral cat feeding station.

She said that the cat was not hers, but had recently started coming to her house and sitting on her very porch, and she fed it.  I asked if I could take the cat to get it fixed, not that it appeared broken, and she said that was fine because the cat was not hers.  I told her I’d go right home and get a trap. Which I did. 

I just happened to have some delicious canned cat food in the car, because after all, it’s hurricane season, so why wouldn’t I have canned cat food, a plastic shower curtain, a car vacuum cleaner, a saber, and a brick in my car.  I baited the trap, and the friendly cat walked right in.  The woman said that there were cats, lots of cats, that lived on the end of the next road over, where some woman who fed cats moved away, and there must be a hundred cats there.  I asked her if I could catch them and get them fixed – would anyone mind?  She said she didn’t think that anyone would care, and we agreed to meet the next evening to drive over to check out the cats.

I got Mr. FussyPants cat relocated to a crate until I could get him to the spay-neuter clinic, and the next evening I headed over to Sondra’s house, for that was the name of the side-stepping lady.  We drove to the end of the next road which opened out into a little enclave of houses, trailers, and double-wides.  Sondra’s niece lived near the end, and the niece said that the cats didn’t belong to her, but to go check over at Mr. Lemuel’s house at the end of the road. 

It was getting dusk, and Sondra said that Mr. Lemuel was close to a hundred years old, and indeed the house had a long ramp leading to the screened-in porch on the front of the double-wide.  I waited on the ramp while Sondra knocked on the front door, and while we waited, I could see someone in a what was probably a bedroom move a curtain to one side to peer out.  I imagined that they would be startled to see a white woman standing on their ramp at dusk. 

An elderly woman with a walker answered the door, and Sondra introduced me, and I explained that I lived nearby on Resurrection, and did she have cats that I could have fixed?  She said that she didn’t know how many cats there were about, and that she didn’t want them returned.  Sondra, by that time, was into the mission, and she told the woman that the cats wouldn’t be able to have any more kittens, and the woman agreed that I could set traps there, have the cats fixed and vaccinated, and then return them.  She seemed happy that someone had come to help.

I had brought my remaining three traps, and I showed Sondra how to bait them, and we placed them under the back porch after watching at least six cats scatter.  The smallest trap seemed to be malfunctioning, but I set it out anyway with the thought that at least a cat could go inside and enjoy the canned food without getting trapped, and Sondra and I headed home.

This morning at early light I drove back to Mr. Lemuel’s house.  I took along a flashlight, and wondered if it would scare the old folks if they looked outside and saw a crazy white woman with a flashlight walking through their backyard to look under their back porch.  I parked in an obvious spot in front of their house, and walked to the back of the house, calling softly for the cats, in case the people in the house could actually hear without hearing aids, and could tell that a harmless crazy was outside their house.

When I got to the back porch, one trap, the little malfunctioning one, was missing.  The two remaining traps both had frightened cats in them.  The biggest trap had a skinny young calico who looked too lightweight to trigger the trip plate, but indeed she had, and the next trap had a handsome fluffy gray tabby.  But where was the remaining trap?

I got down on all fours, wishing that I had brought the camera, and looked under the porch.  The third little trap was full of a large orange tabby who, in his haste to get out of the trap, had jostled and rattled the cage until it wiggled a full five feet under the porch.  I was glad that I was wearing my dirty jeans, and not my clean scrubs because it was looking like I was going to have to crawl under the porch, when I remembered my saber.

In 1977, Mr. X and I were in an antique mall in Cookeville, Tennessee, when he saw a cavalry saber that he just had to have.  It was $25.00.  When he moved out in 2002, he left it behind, and during the course of the separation and divorce never asked for it during the settlement, and it became my property.  I had it evaluated in 2003, and the evaluator thought it was from 1902. 

I had it appraised two weeks ago, and the appraiser said that it’s quite possible that it’s really not from 1902.  It’s possible that it’s from 1872. 

I went back to the car, wondering what the neighbors were going to report about the woman with the saber and flashlight.

The saber, scabbard and all, was the perfect tool for manipulating the trap out from under the porch. 

Three cats, in unison: "What is wrong with white folks?"

Merry Webb, Senior, Deceased 1864

September 4, 2011

Merry Webb Senr Deceased

State of Tennessee

Blount County                                   To all persons greeting  Whereas at our County Court House for the County of Blount at the Court House in Maryville on the 1st Monday of October 1864 it appears to the Court that Merry Webb Senr late of said County had died having first made his last Will and testament in which Merry Webb and Henry Webb are appointed Executors and the same will having been proven and admitted to record and the said Merry Webb and Henry Webb qualified as Executors.  It was ordered that Letters Testamentary issue and We therefore empower the said Merry Webb & Henry Webb to take into their possession all and singular the Goods and Chattels Rights and Credits of said Testator wheresoever the same may be found, and all just debts of said Testator and all the Legacies specified in said Will well and truly to pay, so far as the said Goods and Chattels, Rights and Credits may extend and in all things to administer said Goods and Chattels Rights and Credits, according to the tenor (sp?) of said Will and the law of the Land.

Witness         Thos. Sanderson, Clerk of said Court at office in Maryville the 1st Monday of October 1864.

                                                                                Thos. Sanderson, Clk.

This Time It’s Not the Operator

September 2, 2011

Last night I posted about Merry Webb.  I finished up the post with a newspaper article about Sarah Webb.  WordPress is not publishing the article, but it’s taking the commentary from that article and cramming it into the commentary for the newspaper article about Lynch Webb the Soldier.  I swear I’ve fixed it twice during the editing process but something’s not right with WordPress and it’s still boogered up.  Y’all bear with me while I go gnash my teeth and pull out my hair.

Merry Webb, 1778-1864

September 2, 2011

Merry Webb, 1778-1864, at the Myers Cemetery in Townsend, Tennessee. The building in the background is a welcome center.

Merry Webb had property in Tuckaleechee Cove in Blount County, Tennessee.  He was married two times, and had a large family. 

He died in Blount County, Tennessee, on September 23, 1864.  He left a will dated January 11, 1857. 

Tuckaleechee Cove was so remote that it wasn’t even on this map in 1895. 

BigBroBob, awesome researcher guy that he is, sent me a copy of Merry’s will.  If you’ve ever read an old will, it usually has flowery language that addressed the person physical andmental condition.  Many of the old wills that I’ve read all begin so similarly that it makes me wonder if there was a form letter, of sorts, that the will maker just filled in the blanks. 

For instance,

In the name of God Amen  I Silas Malcom of the County of Blount and State of Tennessee being Sick and weak of body but of Sound mind and disposing memory for which I thank God and calling to mind the uncertainty of human life and being desirous to dispose of all such worldly Substances as it hath please God to bless me with I give and bequeath the Same in manner following that is to say 1st I desire that all my debts in this country if any there are Should be paid together with my funeral expenses  2dly  I give to my wife Mary Malcom all my estate of whatever it May consist except as hereinafter Specified…

Here’s Merry’s will.  The transcription will follow.

State of Tennessee  Blount County  I Merry Webb do make and publish this as my last will and Testament hereby revoking and making void all other wills by me made at any other time  First I direct that my funeral expenses and all my just debts be paid as soon after my death as possible out of any moneys that may be on hands or that may first come into the hands of my Executors  Secondly I give and bequeath unto my wife Fanny all my household and Kitchen furniture and also all the land along the land that is running South at or near where L. P. Dunn now lives including the dwelling house I now live in with the other out buildings on Said lot in as much as the widow and minor heirs can cultivate and if any land that they cannot cultivate is to be rented out and the proceeds to go to said widow and minor heirs and also all my small notes and money on hand to be give to my wife and minor heirs  3dly I give and bequeath to my two daughters (to wit) Jane and Emeline when they become of lawful age or marry to have a good bed and fixtures each also one horse and Saddle each to be worth one hundred dollars also one good cow and calf each also eight dollars each for furnishing their houses  4thly I also give and bequeath my black girl Hannah to my two sons Robert and David the use of Said girl to my wife and Minor heirs until they shall arrive at the age of twenty one years together with the increase of said Hannah if any  5thly I direct that my black boy John be held under the same restrictions of Hannah until the death of my wife or change of widowhood then said boy to be sold to highest bidder  6thly I give and bequeath to my four sons and Son Lynches heirs Merry Henry Robert David and Lynchs heirs all my land in Blount County to be equally divided when my son David arrives at the age of twenty one years if the above named parties can agree  If not to be submitted to referces (referees?) all my land below the land to the first cross fence to be occupied by my son Henry and from the cross fence down to be occupied by my son Merry  East lot to run south with the said land and cross fence to said Mountain so as to give each one access to timber

            Also my farm that said Lynch lives on which I have given him the liberty of occupying said farm for the benefit of his lawful heirs  I further direct that my three sons (to wit) Merry Lynch and Henry pay the Taxes on said land annually and Keep up the fences in good repair on the premises  7thly I further direct that all my horses with two good milch cows be brought to sale to the highest bidder the horses and cows above named to go to the use of my wife and minor heirs also my stock hogs and sheep to also go to the use of my wife and minor heirs  8thly I further give and bequeath to my daughter Rachel three hundred dollars and to my daughter Wionnefred two hundred and Seventy five dollars also to my daughter Anna one hundred and fifty dollars also to my daughter Elizabeth one hundred dollars and fifty to be paid as her wants may demand also to my daughters (to wit) Jane and Emeline three hundred each I further instruct that the balance of my money of eight hundred dollars with the interest coming together with the Sale of my negro boy John to be equally divided between my Six daughters to wit Rachel Nancy Sarah Winnafred Jane and Emeline  I also give and bequeath to my son Merry one hundred and twenty five dollars as a compensation of a certain Gray mare to be paid when David arrives at the age of twenty one years  I further instruct that two hundred dollars be deducted out of the eight hundred that I have above bequeathed to my six daughters to be expanded for two horses and Saddles each to be worth one hundred dollars each for the use of my two Sons Joint Robert and David also my wagon and all my farming tools to go to the use of my wife and Minor heirs  I hereby nominate and appoint my two sons Merry and Henry Webb and George Snider Executors of this my last will and testament in witness whereof I do to this my last will  Set my hand and seal this 11th day of January 1857

Attest  (George Freshour                                     his

              (Jacob Freshour                            Merry  X  Webb (Seal)

                                                                                    Mark

 

[This will was probated in 1864.  There was another will that was never probated, probably a previous will that he makes mention of in the beginning of this will.]

*****

Merry gets right down to business in his will.  No reference to his mental or physical state.  No reference to the glory of God.  He’s agitated about something.

*****

My grandmother’s father was Lynch Delisha Webb, a doctor.  In 1860, he was 4 years old.  His father was also named Lynch Webb, who was in the Civil War although he was roughly 40 years old.  My mother used to have a miniature Confederate flag on her kitchen table.  One day she received a copy of Lynch the Soldier’s Pension file.  He was in the GAR.  She was horrified when she found out that the GAR was the Grand Army of the Republic, not the Confederacy.  I’m grateful that she was already deceased when BigBroBob found that another of Mother’s ancestors, this one a Packett, was also in the GAR.  Finding that out might have just killed her. 

 

Lynch's age is incorrect, probably due to a transcription error from a faded census. He is most likely 39, not 29. His son Merry, age 11, is Francis Marion Webb. His son Lynch is my great-grandfather. My grandmother told me that when her father was a little boy, just tall enough to look out the window, he saw the Union soldiers march by. I said, "Oh, they were the bad guys, right, Grandma?" She said, "Not really."

Here's Lynch the Doctor with his mother-in-law Ruth Gamble Collins and her youngest daughter Ivy Collins Coker, circa late 1800's.

Merry makes it clear that he has no use for his son, Lynch the Soldier, except for Lynch to pay the taxes on the land, and Merry refers to “Lynch’s lawful heirs”.  That sounds to me like Lynch had at least one illegitimate child.  Merry is so agitated about it that he wrote his second will in 1857, and cut Lynch out of the will.  No copy of his first will has been found.

Lynch (L. D. Sr.) Webb, Co. B 2nd Tennessee Cav, Vols McTeer Post #39 GAR, 3/15/1825-12/18/1893. Sarah rests to his right.

Sarah (Couch) Webb, wife, 4/9/1824-7/13/1906. Gone but not forgotten.

The graveyard is to the right, behind the church, Prospect Baptist, where Lynch and Sarah are buried.

From the Tennessee State Library and Archives, I received the following on December 24, 1999, an early Christmas present:

Apparently things are a bit resolved by the time Lynch dies in 1893, which only took about 30 years. This copy comes from the Microfilm Roll No. June 10, 1891 - February 14, 1895, Book - December 20, 1893, Page 1, Column 3, of the Blount County Newspaper, the Maryville Times. F.M. Webb is Lynch the Soldier's son, Francis Marion Webb, who served in Lynch's place for 3 years. By the time F.M. Webb left the service of the Union Army, he wasn't even old enough to have legally enlisted at age 18.

Left-click to read Sarah Webb’s obituary.

Time heals all, or at least suppresses it enough until a genealogist digs it up again and publishes it on the internet.