Clothes Puncher

Wash day happened once each week and usually on the same day. Mom had an orderly nature and liked to do her work on a regular and consistent basis. Wash day in the summer time began just as it started to get light in the east. Us kids always helped unless we had other more pressing work to do. This was the summer I turned 11 years old. First thing, I filled the old black tub full of clean water out of the barrel. The tub was propped up on supports so I could build a fire underneath. This was the source of hot water for the washing. Mom and Marie were sorting out the dirty clothes and putting them in different piles according to color and kind of cloth. As soon as the water got hot we dipped some out into the other tubs to which soap and so many dirty clothes were added and one of us boys would work the clothes puncher up and down. This wasn't hard work, but a feller had to keep at it. Mom's scrubbing tub sat on a bench at a convenient height to stand and scrub clothes that didn't clean up in the punching. Some more water was added to the heating tub and the fire needed regular tending. The corrugated wash board rested in the tub with its bottom down in the warm sudsy water and the top up over the tubs edge a little above belly button high with a handy place for the bar of soap. Mom or Marie usually ran this operation. The clean clothes went into the rinsing tub and were then run through a hand operated roller squeezer, if you had one, and Mom or Marie hung them on the line.

If we all pitched in and helped, the job was usually done by 9 or 10 o'clock and then Mom would feed us breakfast and we could go milk the ol' cow and do other chores. We always had plenty to do and didn't wonder what kind of mischief we should get into to keep from being bored with humdrum life like the kids now days do. Dad didn't have to pay electric or gas bills to heat the water and run the washing and "chousing" devices and Mom had a dandy solar dryer with a breeze fluff feature included. Something most modern American housewife/office workers don't know how to operate. Those old methods had a lot of good points that people now days overlook.

We had just finished the washing and Keith, Grant and I were pouring out the dirty water and putting things away when I looked up north of the house about 150 yards. There was a strange black dog trotting toward Grant and Keith who were up his way about 200 feet from the house. He moved with a staggery gait and the thought came into my mind, "I wonder if he had hydrophobia?" I grabbed the clothes puncher and walked out toward him. He was headed straight for my brothers. I hollered at them to run in the house. They asked why and I yelled, pointing, "there's a mad dog coming at you!" They took off real fast. I was now intercepting his line of travel so he veered my way and made a staggery run at me. I clobbered him along side the head and he went by on my left. Then he turned and came back at me and I did it again. It wasn't hard to keep him away because he didn't have very good control of himself. I was now moving toward the house and each time he made a pass that old clothes puncher whacked him. When I got to the door Mom opened it and I got inside.

Pretty quick we saw him lay down against the east side of the house, toward the north corner. "What, we going to do now?" us kids wanted to know. "Bud, you go out the door on the west of the house and climb up on the roof and I'll hand you the teakettle of hot water. Marie, you watch the dog and if he moves, holler at us". This was Mom in action. I'd never have thought of that in a long time. So over the roof I went with that hot water. He was laying there below me, panting and slobbering. I estimated the kettle position and poured out big stream. It's a dead center shot and he goes yelping down the country at a wobbly run. We never saw that varmint again.