Another story from my father’s side:
The time: 1910-something. He, my ancestor, in Missouri, collected dogs that would show up on his farm. Once a week, he rode his horse into Excelsior Springs, with 30-some hounds behind him, for supplies. Excelsior Springs was already a tourist attraction, with twenty different naturally occurring mineral waters. Hotels, sanitariums, a train line from Kansas City, etc. Hot mineral baths were available in the city hall. But this guy, riding in bareback on a horse once a week with a pack of dogs behind him, became an attraction of a different sort. Eventually, the mayor of Excelsior Springs made a deal with him: come in once a week, with all your dogs, come around to the back of the courthouse before you leave, and I’ll pay you. Such a deal.
I was told that this went on for several years. During this time, said ancestor found a large boulder on his property. Something like two tons of granite. He chiseled his name and birthdate on it. When he died, it took a team of relatives with block and tackle and a damn big wagon to haul the stone to his gravesite, where a stonemason finished the inscription.
And hounds in Clay County still bay to his name.
The Adequate Symbol 