Perry with one of his bulldog pups a 70 year descendant of ol' Brag
Bulldog Story of the Month
A chapter from the book
Perry Driggers and Brag as told
to Lem Miller
(a Bulldog of the late 1920's)
Perry Driggers is now 78 years old, one of 10 children, works every day he's not hunting and still has a bulldog.
This story is about the first bulldog I remember, ol' Brag. Don't have any idea where the name came from but he was my daddy's dog, guess Daddy named'im. Lem, Daddy got ol' Brag from your families stock, namely your uncle Lawerence Miller give'im to Daddy.
Ol' Brag was a white and brindle Bulldog of the dark brindle kind. His ancestors were not recorded in those days-no way.
The way we had dogs was a good man had a good dog he bred to a good dog. Repeatedly, people from all over this part of the country (Wildwood, Florida) heard about ol' Brag and came and bred to'im.
Brag's habits were real good, probably because my daddy was a strict disciplinarian with his children, horses and his dogs. This Dog loved Daddy with everything that he had - true to the loyalty a bulldog's born with in every way.
Now although he was daddy's dog, he didn't isolate himself on Daddy. He was kind to everybody in the family. The babies could sit on him and he'd ride'em 'round. They'd pull his ears, play with'im til he got tired, then he'd shake'em off and trot out yonder to get away from'em. Now this was more than 70 years ago.
This dog was well disciplined but by nature, he had these attributes. For instance, we'd tell ol' Brag to catch us a baby pig, not a sow or a boar but a baby pig. Now understand he'd catch anything in the world Daddy told'im to catch but he was merciful with the pigs. He'd run and knock'em down then take his front feet and cross'em on the pig. I've even seen'im take his mouth and press'em down on the ground and never break the hide. He would not tare a little pig up.
Ya see, he went on a bad boar bad and a little pig little. Ya see, he'd be easy.
Now yard chickens- we were in the country back then-feel sorry for you folks who didn't enjoy a little livin' back then, ya missed a bunch. In the Depression, ya chickens run wild eatin' insects, worms, left over corn from the stock troughs and they'd make their nest wherever they felt like it. We'd pick up the eggs under the horse trough or anywhere else they chose to lay.
Now sometimes company would show up unexpected and we wouldn't have time to catch chickens the conventional way, so we'd use Brag to catch us one off the yard. If it was a good flyin' chicken and Brag made a pass and the chicken got off the yard, Brag would run under the chicken til the bird got tired. When he came down, he belonged to ol' Brag.
The worst he'd ever do would ruffle a feather or two, but he'd never break a wing or break the skin- no way. He'd do chickens like he'd do a pig, just hold'em down til you took'em.
We used to have our mule stables in a big lot which would join the pasture. Mules would be turned out to pasture if they weren't goin' to be worked for a few days. So when it come time to put'em in the lot, sometimes the mule would resist 'cause they knew they were gonna be worked. So, that stubborn mule would run back out to pasture.
When Dad would say put'im in Brag and that mule was in trouble. The mule was fast but that dog was fast! He would put that mule in, not only in the lot but in the stable. Then sometimes to teach the mule a lesson, Daddy'd say "Catch'im, son."
Brag seemed to know how much pressure to put on the mule. He'd split the mules nose if he needed to (by catching him on the nose) and make the mule go stand in the corner of the stable so all we'd have to do was walk up and put a halter on'im. If the mule was real ornery, ol' Brag would put 'im in the corner then jump and grab'im by the tail. Then that mule would stand there and tremble with the bulldog hanging on her tail until Daddy said turn her loose- just like that Brag would come off.
I've seen Brag throw a cow flat of her side without her being weak and starved to death or a big bad bull and that sort of thing. Brag had a way of catchin' 'im and slingin' his body and gettin' 'im off balance.
I've seen 'im catch'im hard, runnin' wide open, hit that nose, snatch back between the cow's front legs and toss'im head over heels. Would do it time and again- a big heavy dog (80-85 lbs.) very intelligent, loved everybody that was kind and wasn't bad to leave home. If there was a party during the night he might be a way for a while but usually came home the next day. He won all the fights ya know, fightin' for a sweet heart. When I say all of 'em, I know of no exception.
Perry with one of his bulldog pups a 70 year descendant of
ol' Brag
Now let me tell ya this part. I remember very well Daddy had a big hog box, a board box made the size of the wagon. It would sit perfect right on the bed of Daddy's wagon. Now we and others raised wood hogs that we'd raise on acorns. When we needed to fatten some, we catch'em and put'em in the peanut field and fatten'em on the peanuts. Now these hogs were wild, so we'd use ol' Brag.
Now once and awhile, a hog would cut 'im and hurt'im but ol' Brag's been hurt a number of times 'cause he was used all the time by everybody. So, he's been cut a bunch of times but it only made him smarter and more careful. Anyway, Daddy would use Brag to catch a load of hogs and when we were through catchin', you know the worst dread Brag had? It was when Daddy would make'im get in the box with the hogs.
Ol' brag didn't like gettin' in the box, he didn't like that close proximity, 'cause he knew he wasn't allowed to catch'em while he was in the box. He dreaded that box, so he'd drop his ears when Daddy said get in the box.
Now he'd back up in the corner to get just as far away from the hogs as he could. If one came at Brag, he'd just snap'im in the face and back'im up. So, ol' Brag had to ride with the hogs.
Justin, Perry's nephew with Reggie a descendent from the
Miller stock
Reggie will catch anything that walks
Now you understand that we were in the country and there were no fence laws. Cows got the run of the road, woods, government land, everything, don't matter, cows have the right-of- way.
So, there's a bad cow in the woods. They got the cowboys and the dogs and brought the cow over yonder and opened the big gate to the big lot. I'm talkin' 'bout a bad cow with horns and, a baby calf, which just made'er worse.
With the cow dogs split'n noses and cowboys lassos. they finally got the cow in the big lot. Ya see they made big lots in those days and in that lot was the horse barn. So they opened the gate to the barn and finally got the cow and calf in the horse stable.
Now when they got there Daddy knew this cow was bad, so he gave orders to my baby brother, Robert, to stay in the house. So, the little fella was on the porch watchin.' When they got the cow and calf in the stable, Robert thought it was safe and came runnin' to get in on just a little part of all the excitement.
When that young'un came through the lot gate, he went around the barn to go to Daddy and others. When Robert ran by the stable, there was enough daylight between the boards of the back wall of the stable that the cow caught a glimpse of the little fella. She got excited and hit that back wall and broke through and went wide open for the boy. Ol' Brag appeared from somewhere and swallowed that cow's nose without anybody to tell'im to do it. Ya see, Brag had read the whole picture of the bad cow. He saw the men were scared of her and then when that cow saw the boy through the cracks of the stable, she hit it full force and broke it down, then had access to the young'un. That's when ol' Brag appeared and swallowed her nose and completely snatched her down, giving Daddy enough time to get to little Robert. Some bulldog, eh?
Here let me tell ya this one. Jack Suggs lived on the ol' Tom Smith place. He lived there and was converted to the holiness faith when we had the tent at Oxford where Daddy got born again. Now Jack was a share cropper with Tom Smith. Jack had a son that had pigs and some of this may sound a little preposterous but the norm for a sow in those days was for her to cut a big bed to have her pigs in. She'd cut weeds or sage grass or whatever was there and pile it, then crawl in there to have her little ones. Jack had been watch'in her and figured she'd had her pigs. So, Jack went to see about the pigs.
Now the bed was a good high bed that she'd cut, put down and crawled in. Jack goes and stops his wagon on the outside of a barbed wire fenced lot where the sow was. Jack then crawled over the fence to go see what he could see and inspect those pigs. Jack said he went so far as to take his toes to lift the matted weeds and grass of the sows bed to see what was underneath and heard the sow make her move. He knew what it meant!
She came out of the bed with him runnin' and Jack got one leg over the fence and hung his pants on the barbed wire of the other! Jack said I don't know where he came from, how he got there, said, I wasn't even aware he was there. All I knew was, that sow was comin' and makin' her charge and chargin' me and I'm hung in the fence and can't get out of the lot! I've got one leg over and the others hung and she's poppin' her teeth and is about to eat my leg when ol' Brag appeared, jumped the fence and hit her head on and caught her by the face.
He started shakin' her bad, which gave me enough time to get loose and get over the fence.
Jack said, I was standing there tremblin', watchin' ol' Brag save my behind. Jack said, once he realized he was all right, he called Brag off and went home. Jack said Brag saved him from being a crippled man.
Ol' Brag lived to be 15 years old and because of a cut under his chin by a bad hog, Brag got screw worms. This was the first case of screw worms we'd seen and didn't know how to cure'm. We tried everything, but those worms just kept eatin' right into Brag's throat and head.
Daddy was not an emotional man, but the day he took ol' Brag out to release him from his misery, he looked at ol' Brag, and thoughts of all they'd been through flooded his memory.
Daddy cried!!!
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