UNTIL TODAY, I THOUGHT I WAS FOLKS-Joe was my dad's pointer bird dog and he was given to my dad by a friend who sold bird dogs. Although Joe had good bloodlines, the man gave Joe away because he had defective tendons in his right front leg and could not straighten that leg out. Despite his affliction, Joe was a great bird dog and I remember one damp morning when Joe found over 20 coveys of quail for my Dad and me to shoot at. My dad was in his late seventies at the time and barely able to walk on worn-out knees, but at the end of the hunt, my Dad had killed a dozen quail that he took home for mom to fry in her beloved Crisco. I killed only one quail that day but had spent a wonderful morning with my Dad and Joe. I will always remember that day and the fun had by two cripples and a guy who couldn't shoot straight. My mom loved Joe because she loved all underdogs and overachievers and Joe was both. When Joe died at, I think, age twelve, my mom painted his painting. This painting was never for sale because it was her memorial to Joe."I was crying the whole time I was painting it," she would tell her visitors. Shortly before her death, my mom told me she worries about her depiction of dogs in one heaven and people in another and said she was planning to see God, as soon as she got to heaven, and convince him to put pets and people in the same heaven. Failing that she said, "I will just get your dad and me transfered to Dog Heaven so I will be there when my sweet Herman arrives. Herman is the much spoiled beagle whose picture is on the museum's website, www.alicemoseley.com
