Tag Archive | true story

The Dog Who Stole Christmas by JK Bovi

Dec9

christmasdog

The Dog Who Stole Christmas

JK Bovi

 

Bo-Bo wasn’t the smartest dog on the block, but my Aunt Helen and Uncle Matt loved him like the son they never had. They pampered him with doggie treats, fed him human table scraps and gave him doggie breath mints.

 

He was not a small dog, being a mixed breed with part Labrador Retriever, Irish Setter, and who-knows-what. It was the Labrador Retriever part that caused a heap of trouble one fateful Christmas Day back when I was a kid.

 

My parents, sister and I had shown up for Christmas dinner at my Aunt and Uncle’s house at noon as was our family tradition. We exchanged gifts, joyful conversation and munched on appetizers as we waited for the delicious turkey dinner to be served at 3:00.

 

At 1:00 Bo-Bo howled at the backdoor to go out. Uncle Matt opened the door and Bo-Bo dashed away without his leash. He was free to roam the neighborhood on Christmas Day and we should’ve chased after him, but Aunt Helen brought out the shrimp cocktail, veggie dip and a pile of homemade candies. With so much eating to be done we forgot all about Bo-Bo. At 3:00 Uncle Matt carved up the turkey and I was asked to call the dog in for his plate of table scraps. I called and called and called for Bo-Bo, but there was no response. Aunt Helen called for him and so did Uncle Matt, but the dog was nowhere to be found.

 

We ate without him and we were in the middle of enjoying my mother’s homemade deserts when we heard Bo-Bo barking at the back door. I’ll never forget my Aunt’s cry of alarm when she went to get Bo-Bo. “Oh my goodness Bo-Bo! What’ve you done?” All of us rushed to see what Bo-Bo had done and it was indeed a curious surprise!

 

Bo-Bo’s teeth were clamped proudly on an entire cooked turkey! He shook his head and bits of stuffing were tossed out of the bird’s cavity. A piece of tinfoil was wrapped on the end of one big leg and there was a metal temperature gauge stabbed in the turkey’s chest. Bo-Bo had mauled off one wing and ripped apart the other. He dropped the turkey to his feet and barked for us to acknowledge his extraordinary hunting success. He’d after all brought home Christmas dinner.

 

We stared in complete amazement and quickly surmised what had apparently happened; somebody in the neighborhood had put their turkey out on the back porch to cool and Bo-Bo had stolen their scrumptious turkey complete with all the fix’ns.

 

Aunt Helen closed the backdoor and left Bo-Bo to dine alone on his stolen feast. We returned to eating our deserts and ate in silence. But when I could contain myself no longer I finally had to ask, “So what do you suppose those people had for Christmas dinner?”

 

It has always been and will forever remain an unsolved mystery. I smile whenever I think about The Dog Who Stole Christmas. And I often wonder… What we would do if it had happened to us?

jkbovi_booklineup

***

Okay, I have to say that I had a standard poodle that stole our roast. Not even a scrap of aluminum foil was left. It had been sitting on our kitchen counter ready to serve up when I was checking on the kids. It always reminded me of A Christmas Story.

So did you enjoy her story? I did. I bet the people who had left their turkey out to cool off never did that again!

Have a super great day!!

Terry

 

 

The Devil’s Messenger, Part 3, A True WWII Story

Sep7
Walter Wilde, front left

Walter Wilde, front left

I’m not sure where this photo was taken. Probably much later than the story that is told here

The Devil’s Messenger was about my dad and one of his real life brushes with death. He truly had more than 9 lives. Here it continues:

The Devil’s Messenger, Part 3

by Terry Spear

Had the Ouija board truly been the cause of Walter’s misfortune? Bleeding and having trouble breathing, he struggled to keep his wits about him as the cockpit seemed to brighten, while the airman radioed his condition to the pilot. No one else had been injured on the mission.

“Have Wilde crawl up to the cockpit,” the pilot radioed back.

With dwindling strength, Walter crept up to the cockpit while the engines roared and the aircraft vibrated. When he could breathe the oxygen freely, he lay still. His arm ached from the wound and the shock to his system created the urge to relieve himself.

“Gotta go,” he said as the plane flew back to Snetterton Heath. As the antiaircraft fire ceased and the lead plane radioed the all-clear signal, the navigator pulled off his helmet, then looked at Walter. “Can’t you hold it? We’ll be home soon.”

“Can’t wait.” Walter squirmed on his side in agony.

The navigator handed his helmet to Walter. “All right, use my helmet, but don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Walter struggled to relieve himself, and as he finished, ME 109s tailed their aircraft, while the aircrew manned their guns. As the navigator jammed his helmet onto his head, he swore, “Damn!” as the urine trickled down his face. Walter chuckled under his breath.

After returning to base, two of the crew hurried to carry Walter out of the aircraft. For seven missions he’d served with the same crew, but while he recuperated in the hospital for his wounds and recovered for six weeks, all the crew members would lose their lives on the next mission as their plane went down. No survivors.

Walter’s injuries had prevented him from flying the mission that ended his crewmen’s lives. Had destroying the Ouija board, then saved his life?

Not normally suspicious, he still vowed never to touch another Ouija board the rest of his life.

But when he had to go on his thirteenth mission, his crew warned him that he was headed for bad luck.

It would prove to be his final mission in the war.

***

Terry

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Wilde & Woolly Bears http://www.celticbears.com

The Devil’s Messenger, Part 2, A True WWII Story

Sep6

heavy fog rocky area (640x480) dark

Yesterday, I started to tell the true story about my dad’s experience with The Devil’s Messenger as one of his crew members called it.

Here is Part 2 of The Devil’s Messenger:

The Devil’s Messenger, Part 2

by Terry Spear

“Briefing mission, now!” the first sergeant bellowed as he stepped into the barracks.

Walter picked up the Ouija board and set it back on the table as one of the men playing poker griped, “Gee, Sarge, I was winning.”

Walter glanced back at the Ouija board as the superstitious crewman slapped his shoulder. “Get rid of it, Wilde. It’s bad luck.”
* * *
Following the briefing, Walter hurried into the barracks and grabbed his brown-leather flight jacket, then glanced over at the Ouija board. Was it truly evil? Would it harm the mission? Walter slipped the board into its wooden box and closed the lid.

“Hey, Walter!” an airman shouted into the barracks. “Mess sarge’s got a Spam sandwich for you to go!”

“Sure thing.” Walter tossed the box onto the bunk and strode to the mess hall. After grabbing his meal, Walter and the rest of the crew headed for the armament shack. Soon after, he and the other crewmen hauled their loaded guns onto their Flying Fortress. But before they took off, he grabbed the Ouija board, intending to dump it in the ocean on their mission. Just in case the man knew what he was talking about when he said the board wasn’t anything to mess around with. Then they waited in their assigned positions in breathless anticipation as the engines roared to life.

It was Walter’s seventh mission, despite still only being sixteen. He’d lied about his age to get in, anxious the war would end before he’d have a chance to fight the good fight along with all the other war heroes he’d watched on the big movie screen back home.

While enroute to Germany, heavy anti-aircraft fire flew into the cloudless sky, popping and cracking in black puffs of smoke as it missed the B-17. Walter manned his guns as left waist gunner and soon hit a Focke-Wulf FW-190, highly regarded as one of Germany’s best fighter planes–certainly a match for the spitfire. He reached down to grab more ammunition, then saw the box containing the Ouija board shaking with the vibration of the plane as it rested on his parachute covering the hole where the last gunner had died. He pulled the chute aside and slipped the box through the hole where it plummeted into the sea.

As he turned to ready his guns once more, splinters of metal from high explosive shells ripped through the plane. Tearing through Walter’s oxygen and communication lines, the still-hot shrapnel cut through his flight jacket and lodged in his left arm. The seven-inch piece of jagged metal severed muscle, splintered bone and sliced blood vessels that caused the blood to pour out into a steady stream as Walter fought for air.

Seeing he was losing consciousness, the right waist gunner leaned down to him and offered his oxygen before Walter passed out.

***

Part 3 and the conclusion tomorrow!

Terry

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

Connect with Terry Spear:

Website: http://www.terryspear.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421434.Terry_Spear

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TerrySpear

Wilde & Woolly Bears http://www.celticbears.com