The Mountain Laurel
The Journal of Mountain Life

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from the
Heart of the Blue Ridge

Fed My Old Dog Jane?

By Grace Cash © 1987

Issue: February, 1987

As often as day rolled around
And the sun went down again,
Pa would stalk to the kitchen
And say, "Fed my old dog, Jane?"

Pa would never set for his picture
He broke every appointment they booked
And when he died Ma was left slap dab
Without a 'minder of how Pa looked.

But sun down and near supper time
Be it sleet, snow, hail or rain
Seemed to me as how Pa edged up
And said, "Fed my old dog, Jane?"