Lionized, at the Dallas zoo!

My dad's Mom was a pretty stern woman. She was capable of having fun, but most of the time, seemed pretty serious to me. My Dad never told too many 'funny' stories about his Mom (who didn't want to be called 'Granny', 'Grams', or any of the other endearing old-sounding names that most grandmothers settle into). No, she insisted that we call her by her first name...Tennie. Her full name, in all its glory was: Tennie Hortense (Childress) Shoemake, until late in life when she remarried when my grand dad died and her last name became Houston. She and her husband, Eugene, and her twin boys, Jack (my dad) and Gene (for whom I am named), lived in Sherman, Texas.

The story as related to me, went like this: One nice winter day, my grand dad took Tennie and my dad to the zoo. Dad's twin brother had died, when he was two years old, so my Dad was an only child. Tennie was sporting a new fur coat, of which she was very proud. They strolled along the paths, in front of the cages. Back in those days, the animals were not sealed away from humans with walls of glass AND massive bars and moats. The animals were behind bars, and people with common sense stayed on the paths and didn't get up in the face of the animals -- within reach of massive arms and teeth. Most people back then had a brain in their heads, unlike some people today who want to climb into the animals' homes and 'bond' with the wild beasts!

Anyway, Tennie and her husband, Eugene, and Jack were strolling along, enjoying their outing when they paused in front of the lion's cage. As they stood there, something like 'coat envy' must have been aroused in the male lion nearest the path where Dad and his parents were standing. Suddenly, the lion turned his back to them, raised his tail and shot a stream of the most foul-smelling urine directly onto Tennie and her brand new coat! That event ended the trip to the zoo on, shall we say, a 'sour note'...and the Shoemake family hurriedly exited the zoo and returned home, smelling, all the way home, from Dallas to Sherman, Texas -- an hour and a half away -- like a zillion, fermented, urine-soaked cat boxes on a hot day in August!!

Arriving home, my grand dad, now in a decidedly somber, funereal mood, took the expensive fur coat out behind their home, and reluctantly, almost ceremoniously, holding the fur coat out on the end of a stick, deposited it in a large steel drum, normally used for burning their garbage. He doused the fur coat with coal-oil and threw in a match. He then moved away -- and upwind -- from the barrel with uncharacteristic speed. The smell of the burning urine-soaked fur coat ran a few neighbors out of their homes. They all asked about the whereabouts of dear Tennie, who was inside their home, scrubbing her skin in a tub of hot water, in an attempt to cleanse her body of the foul-smelling lion urine.

This event at the zoo may have been the catalyst that caused her to become a compulsive user of bleach. I remember Tennie bleaching dishes, even silverware (causing them to turn black from the action of the bleach). EVERYTHING in her home got bleached...EVERYTHING...even the concrete steps on her front and back porch. The bleach didn't hurt her, though -- she lived to be 102. That was one clean woman.

It is said that Tennie never again wore a fur coat...or visited a zoo...after being 'lionized' at the Dallas zoo on a brisk winter day!