remembering the alamo
ever since i was a kit, my moma said i was born to wander. she would also claim my taste for adventure would be the death of me. i'm afeared she might be right as rain on that point, the way things sit rat now. just listen, cuz i ain't got much time left.
as a lad, i used to love to hunt. when i would git home, it tickled me to no end to tell my brothers and sisters tall tales about all my adventuresome journeys i'd had. the wilder the story, the more excited my family acted, which i liked.
one time i had everyone convinced i up and kilt a bar with my bare hands when i was a teen living out in the woods. dang if they didn't believe ever word.
i got so popular with my brand of chin music, folks eventually sent me to congress to be their representative, but that never cottoned to my independent sort of thinking.
shortly after being defeated on my one-raccoon stand against the president regarding vast tribes of buffalo, and the gov'ment's horrible mistreatment of them concerning relocation, i quit the whole affair in disgust and left out for texas.
unfortunately, that place was overrun by mexican prairie dogs who wanted all new-comers to pay tribute by bending to their constricting ways and following their outrageous laws. it became the pivotal point of many a conflict between us arrivals and the mexican dogs, which then forced me and my kin to meet in secret to jaw about what to do for this sitchy ashun.
most all of us who showed up wuz lovers of freedom and shore-fire independence, and we all jined hands saying none of us could abide to digging holes and living underground, nor changing our diets to grasses and hay.
our first meeting started off rough. right away an opossum named travis jumped up and claimed he was in charge. then another fellow, a muskrat from kain tuck who called his self bowie started waving around this huge knife in disagreement. we all sat and watched as them two finally settled down and agreed to share the job of boss.
then after a lengthy discussion, the meet came to an end with one angry outcry: no mealy-mouthed prairie dog had the right to tell us animals how to act!
a few weeks later, our group and other volunteers converged at a small adobe mission in south central texas called the alamo, where we would defend agin a hoard of mexican prairie dogs. we knew they were marching northward, heading directly tord toward our position. our leaders sent out scouts who returned with grim reports of thousands of the rodents on the move.
but muskrat bowie took sick and went to bed. opossum travis gathered the rest of us troops before the battle could begin. his beady eyes sparkled as he drew a line in the sand with one of his hind legs. then he grinned as he spoke.
"who wants to stay and fight? cross over this here line if you so desire."
'course we all stepped forward. none of us had any use for prairie dogs and we all looked forward to gittin' rid of them pesky varmits.
after that, travis went to check on muskrat bowie, who laid on his cot looking poorly. he hung a bed sheet from one wall to another to give muskrat a bit of privacy, and then he assigned me to look after him and tend his needs. midnight came, and we soon fell asleep, being tard and all.
i suddenly come awake just now. the sounds of scratching and digging are all around us.
the clamorous noise grows louder and i bolt upright in my bed to listen. hairs stand up on my back and my ringed tail gits stiff and full. i light a candle agin the darkness and hold it aloft, noticing shadows dancing around our enclosure. muskrat bowie lays on his back and he don't stir none.
outside our private space, i hear the barking of thousands of mexican dogs as they begin to break through the surface of the ground. i feel a vibration made by tiny feet as they rush toward us. without warning, our curtain is pulled with a vengeance.
but before i can react, we are overru