Zeke proved day in and day out that he could indeed whip anything that walked on
four legs on the highways and byways and the sandhills and branches of McDonald
Community. Just as the lion took his place as the ruler of the Animal Kingdom in
Africa, so did Zeke in his domain of our community. Zeke was fearless! My brothers
and I felt he could defend his turf against the invasion of any four legged animal from
the Jungles of Africa if the opportunity should arise. Alas, an African mammal
actually provided such a scenario in the woods of McDonald Community years ago.
My first cousin Furman McDonald, Jr. was my next door neighbor. He lived down the
road, over and at the bottom of the hill. I could not look out my front door and see his
house nor could he look out his door and see my house. Generally speaking, this
distant proximity was the rule in the country definition of "next door neighbor," not
the exception.
Furman, Jr. and his wife Adeline had four kids. The oldest was Vivian (RHS ' 68),
followed by Phil (RHS ' 72), Cindy (RSHS ' ??), and Tracy (RSHS ' ??). As kids, Gary,
Ken, and I played with Vivian and Phil. Cindy was just a toddler and Tracy was only a
twinkle in his daddy's eye. Furman, Jr. or June as Daddy called him spoiled Vivian
and Phillip. He was forever buying them "the first in the neighborhood to have." Phil
learned to ride a bicycle while other kids his age were riding tricycles. Vivian and Phil
were the first in the neighborhood to have a go-cart, the first to have a pony, the first
to have a motorcycle, and the first to have a car (Vivian may have been twelve; Phil,
nine). They rode or drove these modes of transportation as fast as they could with
June's blessings. Furman, Jr. dug the first, and to this day, the only pond in the
backyard for his kids to play in.
Likewise, Vivian and Phillip were the first to own some exotic and very unusual
animals. The first aquarium I ever saw was in their home. Vivian and Phil were the
first to rear mice in a cage. No one in a rural setting had mice as pets. In fact,
everyone else in McDonald Community owned a mousetrap or two to kill mice. In
reality, Vivian and Phil only grew mice to feed the pet python that Furman, Jr. had
bought. I remember as a small kid thinking Furman, Jr. had really lost his sanity
when I walked into his house and saw what I thought was a crow in a birdcage. As I
stepped in front of that cage, I thought of all the crows Daddy had shot because they
ate his corn and watermelons. Suddenly, that black bird blasted a shrill cat whistle
and said, "Hey good lookin'! What ya got cooking?" It was not until I told Daddy that
June had bought Vivian and Phil a talking crow did I find out that the myna bird even
existed. The only miner I knew about dug coal.
As strange and unusual as all the above mentioned pets were, none were as bizarre
and uncontrollable as the pet Furman, Jr. brought home from a pet store in Charlotte.
Yes, previously seen only on the small screen television presentation of Omaha's
Wild Kingdom but now arriving straight from the wild jungles of Africa to the sandy
soils of McDonald Community via Highway 74 was a tame (?), honest to goodness,
live monkey!
Every kid and some adults in the neighborhood came by to see this monkey. What an
entertainer the little feller was! He would mimic the same face that you made at him.
He would play peek-a-boo with you like a baby. He would even eat from a plate with a
spoon. However, one learned quickly not to turn his back to the monkey or he might
throw something at you with the speed of Roger Clemmons. Yet, the monkey would
put his arms around your neck and cuddle like a baby, too timid to show his face.
Vivian and Phil kept the monkey in a cage on the back porch. However, he spent
more time out of the cage than he did in the cage. This one monkey was honestly
more fun than a barrel full of monkeys.
As the monkey grew older, the novelty wore off for the neighborhood kids as well as
Vivian and Phil. Feeding the monkey and cleaning his cage became a chore. With
age, the monkey grew stronger and more rambunctious. The first sign that this
monkey could be a problem was when he learned to open his own cage and then open
the screen door of June's back porch. Adeline, the mom of Vivian, Phil, and Cindy ,
loved to put the monkey in the back seat of her car and ride around. The monkey
loved riding too. However, as the monkey grew older, it became more difficult to keep
him in his cage and on the back porch. The monkey would slap and attack Vivian and
Phil's dog and almost killed their cat. Despite these warning signs, June kept the
monkey just because he was doing more stupid human tricks everyday.
The monkey became so clever and smart that he began getting outside two to three
times per week. Sometimes he would just disappear for two to three hours. No need
to worry though because he had enough human instincts that he would come back
home at meal time. Occasionally, the monkey would slap the dog and chase the cat
before returning.
Everyone in the neighborhood either owned a dog or cat or both. After the experience
of some near fatal butt kickings his monkey put on his pets, June felt obligated to call
all the neighbors to warn them that his monkey had disappeared again and it would
be in their best interest to secure their pets. June promised to call back when the
monkey was back home. The calls always drew a chuckle at our house after hanging
up. Chain our ninety-five bulldog up for two or three hours because a twelve pound
monkey was loose? Yeah, Furman, Jr. delivered comic relief via Ma Bell.
In conclusion, the monkey got out, slapped Vivian and Phil's dog, and chased their cat
three times per week on his "jailhouse break." Yet, the warning calls from June
dwindled down to one or two per month. The drop-offs in calls had nothing to do
with June's indifference or lack of concern for his neighbors' pets. You see Gary, Ken,
and I still had three phone conversations per week with Furman, Jr. about his
monkey being out. However, the conversation went something like this:
"Hello Furman, Jr. This is Bob."
"HI Bob, "June answered.
"Just thought I would call to let you know your monkey is out again."
"Well, thanks, " replied June, "I did not realize he was missing."
"Yeah, Zeke has treed him once more."
"I will get there as soon as I can. Thanks again for calling."
"No hurry, take your time," I said. "He is in the very top of a pine tree. Zeke is at the
bottom of that tree. Your monkey is not going anywhere!"
"Once again, Bob, thanks for calling."
June once told me that the monkey waited at least an hour before he came out of the
tree. I always had to drag Zeke home every step of the way each time and chain him
for the day. Zeke wanted to be there when the monkey came down. June said when
the monkey would finally climb down, he would jump into his arms and tremble and
shake for thirty minutes as he sought refuge from Zeke. I can only guess what
happened. Zeke may have caught that monkey long enough for the monkey to realize
he had a brindle colored lion looking for a death grip. The monkey is just lucky that
Zeke could never climb a pine tree. If Zeke could have ever gotten those bulldog jowls
around that monkey, he would have given him a rice crispies treat - SNAP,CRACKLE,
and POP! By the way, Furman, Jr. sold that monkey back to a pet shop in Charlotte to
the disappointment of Zeke, King Of the Road, and now King of McDonald
Community Jungle. I never see a monkey now that I do not remember Zeke and
June's monkey, a precious childhood memory of growing up in Rockingham, North
Carolina - a small textile town in the South in the ' 50s & ' 60s.
To be continued ...
four legs on the highways and byways and the sandhills and branches of McDonald
Community. Just as the lion took his place as the ruler of the Animal Kingdom in
Africa, so did Zeke in his domain of our community. Zeke was fearless! My brothers
and I felt he could defend his turf against the invasion of any four legged animal from
the Jungles of Africa if the opportunity should arise. Alas, an African mammal
actually provided such a scenario in the woods of McDonald Community years ago.
My first cousin Furman McDonald, Jr. was my next door neighbor. He lived down the
road, over and at the bottom of the hill. I could not look out my front door and see his
house nor could he look out his door and see my house. Generally speaking, this
distant proximity was the rule in the country definition of "next door neighbor," not
the exception.
Furman, Jr. and his wife Adeline had four kids. The oldest was Vivian (RHS ' 68),
followed by Phil (RHS ' 72), Cindy (RSHS ' ??), and Tracy (RSHS ' ??). As kids, Gary,
Ken, and I played with Vivian and Phil. Cindy was just a toddler and Tracy was only a
twinkle in his daddy's eye. Furman, Jr. or June as Daddy called him spoiled Vivian
and Phillip. He was forever buying them "the first in the neighborhood to have." Phil
learned to ride a bicycle while other kids his age were riding tricycles. Vivian and Phil
were the first in the neighborhood to have a go-cart, the first to have a pony, the first
to have a motorcycle, and the first to have a car (Vivian may have been twelve; Phil,
nine). They rode or drove these modes of transportation as fast as they could with
June's blessings. Furman, Jr. dug the first, and to this day, the only pond in the
backyard for his kids to play in.
Likewise, Vivian and Phillip were the first to own some exotic and very unusual
animals. The first aquarium I ever saw was in their home. Vivian and Phil were the
first to rear mice in a cage. No one in a rural setting had mice as pets. In fact,
everyone else in McDonald Community owned a mousetrap or two to kill mice. In
reality, Vivian and Phil only grew mice to feed the pet python that Furman, Jr. had
bought. I remember as a small kid thinking Furman, Jr. had really lost his sanity
when I walked into his house and saw what I thought was a crow in a birdcage. As I
stepped in front of that cage, I thought of all the crows Daddy had shot because they
ate his corn and watermelons. Suddenly, that black bird blasted a shrill cat whistle
and said, "Hey good lookin'! What ya got cooking?" It was not until I told Daddy that
June had bought Vivian and Phil a talking crow did I find out that the myna bird even
existed. The only miner I knew about dug coal.
As strange and unusual as all the above mentioned pets were, none were as bizarre
and uncontrollable as the pet Furman, Jr. brought home from a pet store in Charlotte.
Yes, previously seen only on the small screen television presentation of Omaha's
Wild Kingdom but now arriving straight from the wild jungles of Africa to the sandy
soils of McDonald Community via Highway 74 was a tame (?), honest to goodness,
live monkey!
Every kid and some adults in the neighborhood came by to see this monkey. What an
entertainer the little feller was! He would mimic the same face that you made at him.
He would play peek-a-boo with you like a baby. He would even eat from a plate with a
spoon. However, one learned quickly not to turn his back to the monkey or he might
throw something at you with the speed of Roger Clemmons. Yet, the monkey would
put his arms around your neck and cuddle like a baby, too timid to show his face.
Vivian and Phil kept the monkey in a cage on the back porch. However, he spent
more time out of the cage than he did in the cage. This one monkey was honestly
more fun than a barrel full of monkeys.
As the monkey grew older, the novelty wore off for the neighborhood kids as well as
Vivian and Phil. Feeding the monkey and cleaning his cage became a chore. With
age, the monkey grew stronger and more rambunctious. The first sign that this
monkey could be a problem was when he learned to open his own cage and then open
the screen door of June's back porch. Adeline, the mom of Vivian, Phil, and Cindy ,
loved to put the monkey in the back seat of her car and ride around. The monkey
loved riding too. However, as the monkey grew older, it became more difficult to keep
him in his cage and on the back porch. The monkey would slap and attack Vivian and
Phil's dog and almost killed their cat. Despite these warning signs, June kept the
monkey just because he was doing more stupid human tricks everyday.
The monkey became so clever and smart that he began getting outside two to three
times per week. Sometimes he would just disappear for two to three hours. No need
to worry though because he had enough human instincts that he would come back
home at meal time. Occasionally, the monkey would slap the dog and chase the cat
before returning.
Everyone in the neighborhood either owned a dog or cat or both. After the experience
of some near fatal butt kickings his monkey put on his pets, June felt obligated to call
all the neighbors to warn them that his monkey had disappeared again and it would
be in their best interest to secure their pets. June promised to call back when the
monkey was back home. The calls always drew a chuckle at our house after hanging
up. Chain our ninety-five bulldog up for two or three hours because a twelve pound
monkey was loose? Yeah, Furman, Jr. delivered comic relief via Ma Bell.
In conclusion, the monkey got out, slapped Vivian and Phil's dog, and chased their cat
three times per week on his "jailhouse break." Yet, the warning calls from June
dwindled down to one or two per month. The drop-offs in calls had nothing to do
with June's indifference or lack of concern for his neighbors' pets. You see Gary, Ken,
and I still had three phone conversations per week with Furman, Jr. about his
monkey being out. However, the conversation went something like this:
"Hello Furman, Jr. This is Bob."
"HI Bob, "June answered.
"Just thought I would call to let you know your monkey is out again."
"Well, thanks, " replied June, "I did not realize he was missing."
"Yeah, Zeke has treed him once more."
"I will get there as soon as I can. Thanks again for calling."
"No hurry, take your time," I said. "He is in the very top of a pine tree. Zeke is at the
bottom of that tree. Your monkey is not going anywhere!"
"Once again, Bob, thanks for calling."
June once told me that the monkey waited at least an hour before he came out of the
tree. I always had to drag Zeke home every step of the way each time and chain him
for the day. Zeke wanted to be there when the monkey came down. June said when
the monkey would finally climb down, he would jump into his arms and tremble and
shake for thirty minutes as he sought refuge from Zeke. I can only guess what
happened. Zeke may have caught that monkey long enough for the monkey to realize
he had a brindle colored lion looking for a death grip. The monkey is just lucky that
Zeke could never climb a pine tree. If Zeke could have ever gotten those bulldog jowls
around that monkey, he would have given him a rice crispies treat - SNAP,CRACKLE,
and POP! By the way, Furman, Jr. sold that monkey back to a pet shop in Charlotte to
the disappointment of Zeke, King Of the Road, and now King of McDonald
Community Jungle. I never see a monkey now that I do not remember Zeke and
June's monkey, a precious childhood memory of growing up in Rockingham, North
Carolina - a small textile town in the South in the ' 50s & ' 60s.
To be continued ...
| Chapter 9 Omaha's Wild Kingdom Comes To Rockingham written by Bob McDonald |
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