Thomas Woof Festival and...
Bunches of years ago, my friend Barbara Webster came up with the idea of a Thomas Wolfe Festival (Barbara, please correct me if I’m misremembering - it’s what I do these days.) Thomas Wolfe, an Asheville author who died quite young, was the inspiration for this dog-adoption event I put together 3 years ago, and am repeating this Saturday on the Burnsville Town Square.
Barbara may have been the one to come up with “Woof”, but in any event, it’s happening, and if I’m still around next year, we’ll make it officially an annual event. Proceeds (from raffle tickets being sold) go to the Yancey and Mitchell Humane societies. There are SO many dogs needing homes; the shelters here are overflowing.
Jim is going to emcee between 1pm and 3pm, and his pastor Tommy James of First Baptist will take over and do the 3pm to 4pm slot. If you’re available between 10am and 1pm, PUHLEEZE let me know asap. I’m a real gasbag, so I wouldn’t mind doing it, but I have to take care of selling raffle tickets, and I can’t do both. Please email me at lucydoll@fastmail.com if you can help; I rarely receive responses sent via ButtonDown. I sure miss Tinyletter…
I’m devoting 100% of my time Friday to tidying up loose ends for the festival, which includes Jim - bless his heart - toting me around to pick up gift certificates from the many businesses who agreed to sponsor the festival. The response has been wonderful. Having two rescue dogs myself (the best kind, hands-down), I know what it means to provide a forever home to a best friend who can’t speak our language.
Although Town of Burnsville ordinances state that residents can have up to 5 dogs, I have only 2 - Sadie and Fang. Sadie had been dumped at the shelter in 2020 by “her people”, who were moving away. She had never been inside a building of any sort; I think she probably didn’t even have a doghouse. So here’s this free-range dog freaking out at the shelter: concrete floor, concrete-block walls, constant barking from dogs she cannot see, fluorescent lights, new smells, strangers! Lynn Broadway, a shelter volunteer, called and asked me to take her in, so I did. I have a big fenced yard. Sadie would allow being petted only through the fence, or if you were sitting down in a lawn chair, inside the fenced area.
Since she had never been inside until her incarceration at the shelter, I left my back door propped open 24/7, regardless of the weather, hoping she’d eventually figure out that it’d be okay to go inside. I was still working at the time, so she had all day while I was away, and all night while I was sleeping, to check it out. After two months, I came home one day to find her standing in the kitchen. She ran to me, stood up on her hind legs, and put her front paws on my shoulders. HOME!
It was gratifying to know she felt safe here. I introduced her to the dog door; the rest is history. She teaches new dogs the routines, and - because of one encounter with a stranger (to her) who mistakenly decided to show her who was alpha (I’M the alpha here) - ferocious barks at anyone coming on to the porch. (I have never before felt fear of being intruded upon, but now I’ve got this ferocious-sounding guard dog. We are family.)
A few months after getting Sadie, at the Humane Society’s Yappy Hour at the Snap Dragon (my neighborhood hangout ala Cheers), there was this little white terrier mix on a shelter employee’s lap. I fell in love with her (the dog, not the employee) and offered to take her on the spot, but the employee said I needed to come to the shelter the next day and make it official. So I did, and the assistant manager (I think that’s what he was) said that had he known it was me inquiring, he would have told the woman she could have given me the dog on the spot. The shelter let me adopt her the next day. Her shelter name was “Julie” - a fine name for a female human, but for a dog? No way. I renamed her “Fang” and she knows that is her, and she sticks to me like white on rice. (I don’t know where I learned that phrase: do you?)
Fang moves when I do; from room to room, out in the yard, snuggles up if I am on the sofa watching MidSomer Murders or Seth Meyers. Sadie spends most of her time in what used to be a closet, coming out only to check on me or bark at terrorists (you), but Fang (who also loves you, even if you are a known terrorist), has to be wherever I am. I took her with me on errands in the car (before I became a Menace to Society and had my driving privileges revoked), and she shed so much I knew I could never take her for another ride. She’s white, sheds constantly, and the car interior is black.
Speaking of the car - it’s for sale. Please tell anyone you know who may be interested. It’s a 2006 Pontiac Grand Prix Turbo with only 72,000 original miles on it. I bought it from the Florida dealer I’d bought my last two cars from; when my 2004 Mercury Sable LS (Luxury Sedan) broke, I called him and said,
“Stanley, I need another $6,000 car. I don’t care what it looks like.” He said, “I have too many toys; I’ll tow one up for you.” And so this red hot-rod showed up last November. I had to buy pedal extenders, because I am short (in case you forgot).
This car needs to be owned by an 19-year old with long legs. I have to say I’ve had LOTS of fun with it - young drivers in the lane alongside me, thinking (I suppose) “WTF is that old lady doing, driving THAT car??” and trying to show off. And I just hit the gas and left them in the dust, so to speak. (No dust on the highways now; another look into phraseology is in order.)
Well, hell if I know where I was going with this…
If you live around here, please come to the Thomas Woof Festival on the square Saturday. If you don’t, support the animal shelters wherever you are. Or, if you have more money than you need, please donate to our effort here to keep the right-wing county commissioners from pulling our public library out of a 3-county regional library system, which will cost taxpayers hundreds of thousands of dollars. A whack job sent by “Moms for Liberty” complained about a Pride Month display in June 2024, and the commissioners - a more narrow-minded and ignorant bunch there never was - did what commissioners across the country are doing: showing their true colors. We’re suing, and it’s going to cost $100,000, half of which needs to be raised within a week. We’ve got a good case, and will win if we can pay the lawyers.
I didn’t mean to get onto that last bit, but you know I’m all stream-of-consciousness with these things…
For me, today was a particularly sad one: a close friend from DeLand died last night. She was a year younger than me, and such a delight to know. Long story I won’t go into - but I have not only fond memories, but also tangible items - things she gave me, like the wind chimes on my front porch….and I’ll think of her whenever I hear them.
Buffy, may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest…I will never forget you, girl.
xox y’all,
Lucy