Plots and pussycats

He said, "Oh what tangled webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive."

First wife Iris says everybody knows who said that, but I disagreed. She then revised her statement to say everybody in OUR generation knows who said that.

Of course Bill Shakespeare is the author just as sure as he is the most quoted writer in the history of the English language. Thought about that deceiving business earlier this fall while reporting on a story about Dillon.

Matt Pyeatt's parents died last winter and the man in charge of the city cemetery, Dan Devers, buried the remains of Marion and Margaret Pyeatt in the wrong plot…not the one the family bought. When he discovered his mistake this spring, Devers quickly dug up the folks and put them in the right plot…but he didn't tell Matt. That's where deceit sneaks into the picture.

Besides being threatened by Matt Pyeatt's lawyers, Devers is in trouble with the Brundage Funeral Home for the sneaky way he moved the bodies without telling anyone. The Dillon city's insurance company is negotiating in attempts to avoid a lawsuit.

The way it looks to me, Dan Devers could possibly get fired for his grave indiscretions. If I was him, I would certainly be tempted to go dig up the Pyeatt's one more time, bury them in a new place, then tell all parties involved to meet me at city hall and be prepared for some "real serious negotiating."

Bob Gilluly is a retired editor of the Great Falls Tribune who lives in Anaconda. He writes a weekly column, mainly about Montana history and it should be collected into a book. Last winter he wrote about a pioneer, Ira Meyers, who was hauling freight into the gold mining town of Bannack in 1867. Ira stopped at one of the scattered farms and discovered the wife there had a mother cat with seven kittens. He gave her $2.50 for the litter and loaded them in his wagon.

Arriving at Bannack where every cabin had too many rats, mice, and worse, Ira sold the first kitten for $10 in gold dust. The rest went fast for even more, making Ira's profit over a hundred dollars.

Reminded me of one time I was pheasant hunting near Lonepine with my brother and Harry Lattin. We each had a small son with us and those kids found two little white kittens starving in the brush along the Little Bitterroot River.

Back home in Kalispell, every young'un in the 6th Avenue East neighborhood came over to play with the "cute little kittens," including several of the Goulds, Burchs, Downeys, Sowerwines, etc. Can't remember now how many of those kids got ringworm, but it was a passel. My kids were trying to sell the kittens and for a while I thought maybe my whole family would be asked to move.

Took those cats up to Moose City and they lived out their lives in the wilderness, sleeping in a barn and chasing mice to their heart's content. As for the ring-wormy neighbors…some of them still seem a bit stand-offish.