dogs

Elementary, My Dear Watson

 

Watson in BathtubWatson and Hime                    Watson in Pool                       Watson with Bone

These are some pictures of my grand dogs.  The sleeping giant in the bathtub is Watson, a five month old Akita.  He has to barred from the bathroom for anyone to have any hope of privacy.  In the second picture, he is with his partner in crime, Hime.(pronounced He-May)  Though he pesters her incessantly, she can’t bear to be separated from him.  You can also see Watson cooling off in his pool and relaxing with his bone.

 

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Life According to Buzzy

imageLife according to Buzzy:

Dog poop is precious.  Crazy people  run behind dogs to collect it in small blue bags.

Pizza delivery people come to steal our pizza.  The house must be defended at all costs. Continue reading →

Hey, That’s My Mole !

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Bubba, the second in our series of four American Eskimo Dogs, now respectfully referrered to as the late Uncle Bubba, was a great and fearsome dog.  We’d been plagued by moles in our yard, which we’d been unsuccessfully battling.  Bubba was extremely interested in the beasts, as any fine hunting dog would have been, but had never actually spotted one.  He’d continually dirtied up his beautiful white coat in attempting to dig out the wily Star-Nosed Mole, courageously enduring bath after bath.  Unbelievably, his heroism eventually paid off!  Finally digging one out, he presented his prize gallantly!  Each of us bragged over his trophy in turn, praising him highly!

He kept his trophy handy all afternoon, bringing it forward from time to time when his ego needed a little boost.  Sadly, for Bubba, a passing crow also admired his catch, swooped down, and snatched it from him.  Devastated, Bubba loped behind him, barking in fury.  “Hey, come back here! That’s my mole.”

Snake-Handling and the Rapture(Part 2 of Starry Night, Kathleen’s Memoirs of the Great Depression)

laying on hands                         snake handling 2 snake handling

You might want to go back and read this before reading Part 2

Starry Night (from Kathleen’s Memoir of The Great Depression Part 1)

“When me an’ my brother Jim was boys, we heard they was gonna be having a camp-meeting at one of them snake-handlin’ churches up in the hills.  Now we didn’ want nothin’ to do with snakes, but we thought it might be interestin’ to stir them church folks up a little.  We slipped out with the Rascoe boys an’ caught us up some cats an’ a dog or two an’ had’em in tow sacks.  We slipped up on the back side of the church an’ climbed up, pullin’ them bags behind us.  With all that singin’ and testafyin’, and speakin’ in tongues, them church folks couldna’ heard the devil comin’ up the river in a sawmill, so we didn’ have a bit o’trouble once they got started.  Them folks was naturally doin’ some carryin’ on!

Well, we give’em time enough to get to really git serious about their religion before we turned them dogs and cats loose on ‘em.  Them cats tore outa’ them sacks, like their tails was on fire, screechin’ and spittin’, with them dogs right behind ‘em.  Some of ‘em ended up bustin’ right up in the middle of them snake-handlers.  I mean to tell you, they threw them snakes down an’ they all run outside screamin’ an’ carryin’ on about the rapture.  You wouldn’a thought anybody that messed with snakes would’a got so stirred up about a few dogs and cats!

Buzzy and His Hand-Me-Down Precious

Buzzy and BabyOne of the best things about our little dog Buzzy is that he loves everything we do, just as long as he can be in the middle of it.  At home or camping, he makes every step we make, doesn’t miss a sight, When we are packing our trailer, he makes every trip, just to make sure we don’t slip off without him.  He is so relieved when he sees up pack his food, snacks,  Precious Baby, and leash, but doesn’t totally relax until he gets his leash on and gets to hop in the back seat of the truck.  In the picture above, you can see him settling in the first at night at camp with his Precious. When he gets tired, he bites down on its nose to relax, just like a baby with a pacifier.  This particular baby has been handed down to him through two previous owners, both American Eskimo dogs, just like him.  I assure you, he’d never have been allowed possession of it if either of them were still around.

The Case of the Mysterious Spotted Dog Murder

Our life with Annie, our surly, farting Dalmatian was complicated by her partner in crime, Greg, the ever-present kid from across the street.  I use ever-present in the strictest sense.  Greg’s mom worked nights.  In a casual relationship never addressed by any of us, Greg made a beeline to our house as soon as he got home every day, hit the pantry for a snack, and let Annie out of prison.  Greg was well known for investigating our premises, keeping himself abreast of what all that was going on at our house, while he dawdled about, picking things up, questioning, “What’s this?  When did you get this?”   We’d chat about his day.  Afterwards, he and Annie would go off on a ramble, since we lived in a rural neighborhood with many large wooded areas. They were a common sight, known all over the neighborhood.

At any rate, one afternoon he and Annie stumbled on a construction site, just as a human skull was unearthed.  Naturally, the ensuing hub bub was tremendous. With law enforcement and news crews arriving, Greg and Annie managed to be front and center, part of the big story. Greg was ecstatic, carrying the news all over the neighborhood, taking full credit for the entire situation.  Anxious to milk the situation for all it was worth, Greg made a hasty trip back to our house to retrieve a gag item of my daughter’s, a dummy arm and hand intended to hang from the trunk of a vehicle, giving the impression of a body is in the trunk.

Returning to the wooded area near the site of all the excitement, Greg tossed the “arm” to Annie, initiating her favorite game of “keepaway.”  Annie burst from the woods, arm in her mouth, ripping through the yellow crime scene tape.  Greg was right behind her, yelling his head off. It was like a scene out of a Monty Python movie. Annie, no novice, at being chased by shouting strangers, headed home, dragging the incriminating arm.  Winded, she scratched at the back door, still clinging to her prize.  Shortly, she was followed by Greg and a bevy of law enforcement officers, asking to see the arm.  She’d hidden in the bedroom, reluctant to part with such a desirable prize, but I brought it out for their examination.  I was so glad not to be Greg’s parent that day.

Oh, the skull turned out to be that of a Native American who’d probably died more than one hundred years before.

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Not Quite the Proverbial Turd in the Punchbowl

Annie, our surly Dalmatian with gastrointestinal issues was not only a pooping housebreaker (see link below), she was a wedding crasher.  We knew the Craig’s across the street were hosting a wedding, so made a point to give Annie had plenty of time to spend in our yard to conduct business before their guests started arriving at one-thirty in the afternoon. In the interest of being good neighbors, we’d even made a last minute inspection of their yard before the guests arrived, just to make sure she hadn’t left an unwelcome “wedding gift.”

Alerting the family to keep her incarcerated, the whole family was on alert.  Annie was a lazy dog, normally content to sleep the afternoon away, snoring stertorously.  Apparently, the party traffic was disturbing.  She spent her afternoon whining at the back door, dancing with her legs crossed, claiming she had to pee.  We took her out on her leash a time or two, but she came up dry while attempting to escape to the party across the street.  All went well until a neighbor kid came bursting in our back door, releasing Annie just as the wedding party exited the house across the street.  Bowels urgently loaded, she streaked over to join the fun.  In all the excitement of tossing the bouquet, she escaped the crowd’s notice as she laid a prize-winning turd a few feet behind the gaggle of bridesmaids vying for the bouquet.  One of the more top-heavy ones slipped in her offering,  bringing the rest down like a bunch of bowling pins.  Annie scored a perfect strike!  I could have sworn I heard shouts of “Dog-S–T!” rising above that bevy of pastel Southern beauties.  I guess their mama’s didn’t raise them right!

 

Coming up next:  Annie is accused of murder.  Human skull found in our neighborhood and Annie found with detached arm!

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I Quit! (From Kathleen’s Memoirs of The Great Depression)

One morning about a week after I started first grade, Daddy finished up the last of his coffee and ground out his cigarette as Mama scraped the few leftovers onto a plate for Ol’ Jack.  “All right kids.  Best be getting’ ready for school.”  He got up, putting on his felt had as he headed out the back door to do a couple of things before heading to his janitor job at Continue reading →

Pooping with Brian

I got my daughter a Dalmatian for her thirteenth birthday.  I do believe that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.  For about a day and a half, Annie was sweet.  As soon as she got her bearings,she became a hyperactive, maniacal buzz saw, plundering and eviscerating everything in her path from shoes to the rag top on my husband’s MG, but that’s a story for another post.

At eighteen months, Annie’s hormones kicked in.  Overnight, she was transformed into a nasty-tempered, sullen,farting, bitch, such a blessed relief.  One day she was sitting between Bud and Mother farting up a storm.  Bud and Mother each kept looking accusingly at the other, thinking surely they would eventually do the decent thing and excuse themselves.

Deciding to take her show on the road one morning, Annie decided the best thing for her to do was to tunnel under our neighbor’s back fence to pay him a call.  Brian wasn’t in the yard, so she trotted into the house looking for him.  He was deep in thought, sitting on the toilet, enjoying some quality time.  Inspired by his wise example, Annie squatted and produced a fine example of her own.  Though I didn’t see the actual event, I did get to hear about it in great detail.