Today’s column was written by Steve McCommas, when he was enrolled in one of Jerry Lincecum's Telling Our Stories classes a number of years ago.

Back in the 1940s, I lived on a farm just three miles from Bryan, TX.  One Saturday there was going to be a grand parade and street party in Bryan, and my two friends Porkey and Bubba had spent Friday night with me so we could go into town on horseback and ride in the parade.  We were riding on three green-broke horses, which means the horses were still in training and not quite experienced enough for anyone to ride or work them confidently. I had been working with them all summer, and both my dad and I both thought they were okay to ride in the parade.

We entered the Bryan wagonyard about 10:30 AM, accompanied by my dog Freckles, a Dalmatian. She always wanted to go wherever the horses went, and she was a well behaved dog. In the yard I spotted several familiar faces. Miss Margaret was setting up her table, and Mr. Lynn was working with their team of mules. Mrs. Mack was cooking in a pot over the fire. Miss Lilly May was slicing cakes, and old man Sears had several horses tied to his wagon.  Charlie Cole had several pens of chickens and a bunch of rabbits in a little fenced area. Several people had coon dogs to sell.

I pulled up to see where Freckles was, but it was too late.  She had stopped with her ears perked and her tail straight out looking for the rabbits she could smell. This was her favorite thing, chasing rabbits. She spotted them and took off. Now Freckles was stone deaf. She would mind hand signals, if you could get her attention.

I looked at Bubba and said, "We got a problem." Porkey said, "Let's just tie her to old man Sears’ wagon." Good idea, but too late. She had scared the rabbits, and they hit the little fence that was holding them pretty hard.  When it went down, we had about ten rabbits on the loose. Freckles was trying to get them all. The rabbits went right through the goat pen. Now we had about fifteen goats on the loose. Some of them went right under Mr. Lynn's team, which spooked the mules and started them to hee-hawing. They also began trying to run with Mr. Lynn hanging onto the lines.

Well, it went from bad to worst.  There was a bull in a flimsy pen, and the mules upset him. Some of the coon dogs got loose and joined the rabbit chase. Now we had rabbits, goats, mules and dogs running around. People were running and hollering, trying to catch and hold any animal they could grab. I started having trouble with my horse, and Porkey was on the ground trying to calm his. I saw Bubba had his horse tied, but he was on the ground standing face to face with a bull that weighed about a ton.

They looked at each other for a second or two, before Bubba took off for a wagon with the bull right after him. Then my mare threw me, but I still held one rein, and I wrapped it around my hand so she wouldn't get away. She only drug me two or three blocks. I got up and was checking myself for broken bones when a wagon came by with no one in it.

Now everyone knows that good coon dogs won't chase rabbits, but then who would sell a good coon dog? It sounded like every dog in the county was chasing rabbits. Somehow the pigs got out, and the rabbits kept running around among them. This kept all the animals scared, including the chickens. I saw Miss Margaret riding on a pig, either trying to stop it or just to keep herself from falling.

The wagonyard was right behind a feed store, and I saw Freckles chasing one rabbit into the store.  Then we could hear quite a commotion going on in there. Outside it was starting to quiet down. People were catching their dogs and tying them. We boys were talking about how to get Freckles out of the feed store when I noticed my dad coming out of the door with Freckles trotting right beside him.

We heard it was a grand parade and lots of fun at the street party. All that fun was going on in town, and here we were back at home playing spin the bottle with some of the neighbor girls. Oh, well! There's always next year.

Jerry Lincecum is a retired Austin College professor who now teaches classes for older adults who want to write their life stories.  He welcomes your reminiscences on any subject: jlincecum@me.com