The dog and I went to look at things. We were fairly unsuccessful. But we did see these things, which you should see, too
The tiny cat has pulled all her butt-hair out again and has taken up living on this pizza box. It’s funny, but I feel terrible for her.
I’m just saying, Nashville, that this should be a tourist attraction. Also, we saw a black dog at the entrance to the prison. She had a puppy, so I don’t think she was a hellhound, but one never knows.
A full grave at Jordonia Station.
And an empty one, waiting.
And an angel at the entrance.
It seems like there should be more cemeteries up here on the north side, but I have not found them.
Tiny Cat Pants 
Any day you can use a Bozie Sturdevant song as a blog post title has to count as a good day. Thanks for showing me what you saw.
We enjoyed the grand tour, ma’am. You show things the Chamber thinks we don’t want to see.
Oh, and re She had a puppy, so I don’t think she was a hellhound, but one never knows:
How do you think all those hellhounds get on people’s trails? They can’t be everywhere at once. [g]
I’m just saying, if a fat, rolly-polly hell-puppy is on my trail, I’m not running from it. Shoot, if Mrs. W. hadn’t been in the car, I would have been sore tempted to scoop Mama Hellhound and Baby Hellhound up, because Mama was beautiful–all black, pitbull body and size, but more of a mastiff or maybe shar pei face (but not wrinkles) and the puppy was so fat and cute.
But they both looked fat and I am not animal control, so I’m hoping that they are being fed by someone or eating good out of the garbage at the Pilot.
Maybe the Devil should put hellpuppies on people’s trails to sucker them in to slowing down.
Maybe the Devil should put hellpuppies on people’s trails to sucker them in to slowing down.
“Ssssh! Here comes another sucka. Roll over and wiggle with your tongue hanging out, baby. Boss says Mama’s got to bring in this one and four more tonight before supper. Goooood puppy.”
Also, Robert Johnson may have tried and discarded “Hellhound puppy on my trail” because he didn’t play banjo, and that would only work on a banjo. Possibly sung by Grandpa Jones (to the tune of “Old Rattler”): “Hell Puppy! Here! Here! Hell Puppy! Here! Fat Hell Puppy on my trail! Here, puppy, here!”