The most outlandish thing he ever ’dopted, to my mind, is that old yaller cat. That was a miser’ble low-down stray cat thet hung round the place a whole season, an’ Sonny used to vow he was goin’ to kill it, ’cause it kep’ a-ketchin’ the birds.
Well, one day he happened to see him thess runnin’ off with a young mockin’-bird in his mouth, an’ he took a brickbat an’ he let him have it, an’ of co’se he dropped the bird an’ tumbled over—stunted. The bird it got well, and Sonny turned him loose after a few days; but that cat was hurted fatal. He couldn’t never no mo’ ’n drag hisself around from that day to this; an’ I reckon ef Sonny was called on to give up every pet he’s got, that cat would be ’bout the last thing he’d surrender. He named him Tommy Jones, an’ he never goes to school of a mornin’, rain or shine, till Tommy Jones is fed f’om his own plate with somethin’ he’s left for him special.
Of co’se Sonny he’s got his faults, which anybody’ll tell you; but th’ ain’t a dumb brute on the farm but’ll foller him around—an’ Dicey, why, she thinks they never was such another boy born into the world—that is, not no human child.
An’ wife an’ me—
But of co’se he’s ours.
I don’t doubt thet he ain’t constructed thess exac’ly ez the school-teachers would have him, ef they had their way. Sometimes I have thought I’d like his disposition eased up a little, myself, when he taken a stand ag’in my jedgment or wife’s.
Takin’ ’em all round, though, the teachers has been mighty patient with him.
At one school the teacher did take him out behind the school-house one day to whup him; an’ although teacher is a big strong man, Sonny’s mighty wiry an’ quick, an’ some way he slipped his holt, an’ ’fo’ teacher could ketch him ag’in he had clumb up the lightnin’-rod on to the roof thess like a cat. An’ teacher he felt purty shore of him then, ’cause he ’lowed they wasn’t no other way to git down (which they wasn’t, the school bein’ a steep-sided buildin’), an’ he’d wait for him.
So teacher he set down close-t to the lightnin’-rod to wait. He wouldn’t go back in school without him, cause he didn’t want the child’en to know he’d got away. So down he set; but he hadn’t no mo’ ’n took his seat sca’cely when he heerd the child’en in school roa’in’ out loud, laughin’ fit to kill theirselves.
He ’lowed at first thet like ez not the monitor was cuttin’ up some sort o’ didoes, the way monitors does gen’ally, so he waited a-while; but it kep’ a-gittin’ worse, so d’rectly he got up, an’ he went in to see what the excitement was about; an’ lo and beholt! Sonny had slipped down the open chimbly right in amongst ’em—come out a-grinnin’, with his face all sooted over, an’, says he, “Say, fellers,” says he, “I run up the lightnin’-rod, an’ he’s a-waitin’ for me to come down.” An’ with that he went an’ gethered up his books, deliberate, an’ fetched his hat, an’ picked up a nest o’ little chimbly-swallows he had dislodged in comin’ down (all this here it happened thess las’ June), an’ he went out an’ harnessed up his goat-wagon, an’ got in. An’ thess ez he driv’ out the school-yard into the road the teacher come in, an’ he see how things was.