In the Line of Fire
Our family was blessed with one of the sweetest kindest little fellow that could ever come into a family. I of course refer to Robert Smith Stubbs, also known as (half a valentine, bomb, peace pipe, peace pipe, fork--Bobby) which is how he learned to write his name. I have written about him earlier when my father was taking my mother to the hospital to deliver him. They had passed my dog Prince Albert that had gotten out of the house and didn’t stop to get him. Some time later after they had brought Bobby home from the hospital, he was in the room fussing. My mom told me, a five-year-old, to go in and check on him, which I did. A short time later there was a lot of loud crying, even possible screaming. My mother ran in and asked what had happened. I told her that I had come back to check on the baby and told him to quit crying, but he wouldn’t, so I socked him one. I don’t think I was sent to check on him anymore. I don’t think I was still holding the loss of my dog against him, ...