Ranch boy comes home from school all dejected. “Whut’s up, son?” his father asked. “I missed a word on the spellin’ test, Pa.” “Well, one word’s not bad, son… what word was it?” “Posse.” “Well, hell, son, you can’t spell it raht if you can’t even say it raht!”
Tex was big man and he rode a big poodle. Robespierre was a mountain of dog 20 hands high with curly steel grey fur and pale eyes. Tex liked to tell people Robespierre “ate lightnin’ and crapped thunder”, but he was, in truth, a gentle soul.