Billie Bell

2011

67''x 40''x 70''

You ask what a good-looking dog like me is doing here on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

The short answer is that I am on my way to Lubbock for a hair appointment and I ran out of gas.

For the long answer you’ll have to give me a ride up the road 17 miles to Joe’s Service Station.

Thanks. It’s just me and you; so I’ll give it to you straight. I’ve been married three times.

The first time was to Buckle Up Jones, three years old and a championship bull rider. I would sit on the chute behind the gate and just holler. He was gored by Old Crooked Horn in the Mule Shoe Finals. It took me a long time to turn from the past to the present.

The second time was to Dark Eyes Parker, one half Comanche and proud of it, and a professional gambler. I told him, I pleaded with him, not to go to Matamoras and play table stakes poker with total strangers. He said like he always did, “Honey, I’ll be alright.” He was shot below the belt after a winning hand. It took me a long time to turn from the past to the present.

The third time was to Big Jake Bell, a true Texas Wild Catter. We had a good life. We raised two puppies. I was his land man. You have never really felt excitement until you sit on a drill site and the rig begins to rumble. Real good or real bad? I lost Big Jake to a heart attack. He could not stay away from the barbeque joint, especially that greasy, chewy, salty stuff they usually throw away at closing. It took me a long time to turn from the past to the present.

But that’s where we are, you and I, in the present. I take the Muleshoe Sentinel, and whenever an old female dog dies in West Texas, I go by and see her old dog. I take a casserole and see if he still likes to chase motorcycles and cats. I got a lot of life in me that I have yet to live.

That’s my story. There’s the gas station. It’s always a pleasure to meet a good dog.

Thanks.

Hattie Mae:

She is my favorite older sister, Billie Bell, the casserole lady. She can cook real good.