Da Dog

Ren

Two Bears

This is a long ago, but very fine dog, named Two Bears. She liked to jump and play so much that those pics show her leaping for a tuft of grass. Photos were probably taken on a very long ago trip to Colorado, which encompasses many of my favorite memories. Ah, to be young and s̶i̶l̶l̶y̶  confident enough to travel a good half of the USA camping in the back of a pickup truck with two dogs along.

This is a somewhat more recent story about two bears. I shuddered when I read it. They do not make guns big enough for me to face that kind of bear. go, read, be glad you weren't along on this camping trip.....

Not the world's fanciest camper, but a great companion...Brandy.....there on the hood.
And travels from NY to Florida to Idaho, Montana, Colorado, and many more states to remember.

A Symbiotic Relationship

I get to laugh, no matter how bad things get. Every day. No matter how little there is to laugh about.

 Every time I put my wool socks on. Every time I throw my old sneakers on to go outside for whatever reason. And sometimes just at random.

Daisy gets to roll around between my feet, doing her best to slow me down on my trip to the barn, rooting around in said socks, grunting and groaning and stealing lots of pets and ear and tail tugs. It takes me a lo-o-o-ong time to get my socks on. 

And Daisy gets to bark at me, "Hurry up! Hurry up! Woo, woo, woo!"

And to clatter around the floor, bundle of bolting, silly-joy-joy, happy, happy, happy, at the mere possibility of going outside where there be bunnies.

 I get a little 12-pound toaster muffin snuggled tightly between my bare feet in the kitchen as I type.....don't move, mama, you might step on the little one.

And Daisy gets to share the big, thick sleeping bag I drape over my chair to keep me warm and give me a place for those bare feet. She has her own bed, but it doesn't have pre-heated feet in it so.......

You see....symbiosis at its finest.

Sunday Stills....Going to the Dogs

Mike as an old man, still ready for anything, whether it be bringing in a bull or chasing a tennis ball
Or protecting the cats from his brother Nick

Brandy, who went wherever we asked

Two Bears, Brandy's partner in crime

Mike, learning the ropes in the round pen

Gael, Mike, and Nick, the three collies

And Daisy, the Doodlebop, who certainly doesn't work sheep and cows,
 but is also up for anything, any time, anywhere

For more Sunday Stills......I can't resist dogs, was simply born a dog person and will probably always be a dog person. There have always been dogs in my life as long as I can remember. Some of them, were just dogs, if there is such a thing. Others loom large with greatness in my memory, Brandy, who did flyball and Frisbee before the sports were invented, wore clothes with pride, climbed ladders, jumped anywhere I asked him and eagerly dug wherever instructed.

Mike, my incredibly lucky choice of a border collie. I wasn't supposed to get Mike, having chosen a different pup and get stuck with the unwanted one, but he sure ended up being a good one.

Now, we have Daisy, the Doodlebop, first time ever for a dachshund. 

I wanted to get another border collie. We were kind of halfheartedly looking for one after Nick, the last of the three collies passed. I wasn't sure I was up for all that is entailed in training a BC though....

Then I was shown a picture of Daisy, begging for a treat, all smug dachsie smiles, and full of an overdose of naughty. She was on the adoption block having eaten an entire brood of very expensive baby turkeys...and some baby chicks...yeah, she ate them too.

And so she came to stay here, loaded with tape worms and personality in equal proportions. We got rid of the tapes, but we are keeping the personality....we are her third owners, and as is often the case, I think third time's the charm.

Dancing Miss Daisy

This is such a harsh time of year. The short days, the cold nights, caring for the animals indoors rather than out with all the problems that brings along. The sky is just grey, day and night.....My favorite heifer was injured by a big cow and may not make it. So much going on behind the scenes.

It makes for a pervading, deep sadness, that common sense and 'this too shall pass' make no inroads upon. 

However, through all this gloom dances a little ray of sunshine. Happy dog! Happy dog! The delightful Miss Daisy holds the stage.

Russet red with lots of chrome, she radiates delight through all our days. Lap warmer, class clown, dashing through the house with gay abandon, heat-seeking tennis ball missile. 

Greeting me at the kitchen gate each morning, tail sweeping behind like a little feather broom. Prancing to the refrigerator as dinner time approaches...'you will get my food out, yes, please, now please?' 

She is perhaps the happiest dog I have ever enjoyed. 

We nearly lost her a few weeks ago. From one hour to the next she became horribly ill, dehydrated, and so, so sick. We figured some kind of internal blockage, and started her on Gatorade while Alan picked up some Pedialyte, kitty hairball medicine, and mineral oil. We dosed her every five minutes with a syringe full of first the Gatorade and then the Pedialyte. We gave her the kitty stuff and a little mineral oil.

She responded almost miraculously, and was her bouncing happy self in a few hours and rid of the problem by the next morning.

I think she had the  issue from before we got her though. Maybe from eating whole turkey poults, which is why we got her. If I give her more than a few bits of dry kibble, or biscuits, she gets "off" really fast. 

She is a different dog since her illness too, younger, happier, livelier. So full of joy in her people. When Liz comes home in the morning she is beside herself with delight. When her boy comes home after a week in the city, she can barely contain herself. Can't decide whether to run in circles, jump all over him, look everybody right in the eye to bark her announcement that he is home, or vault into his bed and bounce around  like a furry dervish. Where her hunting hound ancestors tunneled under the ground in search of badgers, she tunnels under the blankets in search of naps.

She has also tunneled into every heart in the house.

So, she gets canned dog food with squash or applesauce, plus a little rice, and kitty hairball medicine once a week. I never imagined fussily making dinner for an itty bitty dog, but she lights up the world, one prance at a time, and so.....she gets pretty much whatever she needs and a good bit of whatever she likes as well.

Conclusion

If anyone ever raises a statue to Gil the dog, I am calling in these guys.
They do good statue work

You know that uproar last night? When the dog awoke the house in a barking frenzy? When the women leapt out of bed and ran around outside looking for escaped cows, burglars, zombies, errant deer or any other thing that might stir him up that bad?

When the old lady wrenched her knee and raised a great big knot?

Yeah, that fun event....

Was caused in all probability by the barn kitten cavorting on the back porch.

That is all. Thank you, Gil. I will get even, I swear it. Even if it takes a while. See above.

Dog-a-Log

Not to be confused with the Log-a-log

The boss brought down the last and largest piece of the big oak yesterday and wanted me to take a picture of this one too. Miss Daisy was added for size comparison.

And who am I kidding....just because she is cute. She probably would make a heck of a GUOSIM too.

Brownie

You'd think after closing in on three decades of marriage you would have heard all of someone's stories. Especially if you are married to someone who likes to regale you with them, often more than once.

However, today as we were chatting with the new trucker, who came in to pick up the cow for the sale...and no, not 171-the boss decided he wanted to keep her...I heard an entirely new one.

And it was pretty good. 

Seems a long, long time ago, when the boss was just a little tyke, not even in school yet, the neighbor's dog had pups under the barn. His mama let him feed them, so each day he carted out food for the mother dog, who then let him play with the pups.

What kid doesn't love a pup? Thus when the neighbors called and wanted their old dog back and all the pups too...they were moving away, and had given the mother dog to some folks up in Fort Plain....he was heartbroken.

He took his favorite pup down to an old rabbit coop and hid it there. 

The actual owners came and when the pups were counted said, "I thought you said there were X pups (he doesn't remember any more how many there were)."

His dad said, "There are."

So the neighbors sent their own boy under the barn to hunt for the missing pooch. Grandpa was nobody's fool though and he asked his little son, "What did you do with that pup?"

That was not a question that was meant to be ignored.

And so it was removed from the rabbit coop and hauled away with its family, never to be seen again.

That was one sad little boy...you could hear it in his voice even today, how much he loved those dogs and hated to lose them.

However, along about a month later, there in the back of the house, was the mama dog, thin, and scraggly, and worn down from her travels. She had somehow found her way back from wherever the people took her.

His mama fed her a little until she got her feet under her, and then nursed her back to health.

He thinks he had her until he was 14 or so. It took a while, but Brownie knew where home was and when she got there she stayed.

Get Along Little Dogie

The other dogie

If only I could spell. I thought they meant get a long little doggie, so we got one. She is a loving little nuisance, everybody's best buddy, and lap comforter and bed snuggler and rug....no, let's not go there...if you are diligent indeed, she will do it outdoors, at least some of the time.

I tried tying a bit of string to my belt loop to leave my hands free for binoculars and camera and took her birding yesterday. It was interesting. A nifty little yellow-rumped warbler found us intriguing and came in close and low, to nip from branch to branch just inches away, friendly as a kitten. 

I didn't raise the camera, just stood still to enjoy him, only to find out what he was laughing at when I started to step away. My dogie had lassoed me, and neatly tied my feet together with the string. 

Thanks, Daisy. She continued to do so every time I stopped. 

Which was often. The house was captured in a net of Eastern Phoebes, chasing wasps I think. They fluttered at every window, and hoovered every shingle all day long.

Though we have yet to see anything exotic, the woods and fields abound with the common but interesting. Catbirds, cedar waxwings, gold finches by the dozen. Warblers....how DO you learn fall warblers anyhow? They are driving me nuts. Every time I think I have found something new, it is a common yellowthroat, a yellow, or a yellow-rumped.

Daily Dachshund Dragging

Daisy does not like wet grass. Her tranny drags. The carpet is warmer and drier.

Thus there is a certain amount of insistence required in convincing her that she really is housebroken and she really will use the lawn not the living room. 

Little brat.

Usurped

Miss Daisy, in her brand new doggie bed. Check out that stink eye

You knew it was going to happen. Yesterday the delightful Miss Daisy came here to serve her sentence for murdering valuable turkey poults. Life at Northview.....with no parole.

She was nervous and real unhappy when Liz, who delivered her, left her alone with me.

However, she has survivor genes, and was soon following me around the house and sleeping near my feet. And itching.

What a horrific flea infestation! Holy cow. I had been thinking quietly to myself recently...didn't want to jinx anything...that we had gotten off real light in the flea department this summer.

Well, I'm afraid Daisy is taking care of that. All she does is dig and scratch. They put some kind of systemic flea killer on her before she was sent our way and Alan says they appear to be dying. However, I'm thinking a bath is in order for today.....

Anyhooo, she was "my" dog for a few hours. Until all the kids came home. I came in from the barn last night to find her the center of attention of the entire flock of youth and significant others, and so it stayed. Musical laps, and she sure is a lap dog.

Got up this morning to be glared at by our fine little Miss. She had landed in a soft place and she knew it. It was all she could do to force herself out of bed for a minute so the mean old lady could walk her out there in the glimmering fog. She grudgingly attended to business, glaring at me the while.

Look closely over to the right hand side.....she is not alone

And then right back to bed.....with guess who. 

Introducing Miss Daisy

Dog Day in the Afternoon

"Er, I dunno, it looks pretty big to me"

Ren supposedly loves the water. However, when introduced to the big lake, she first tried to run and hide, and then swam out and climbed up on Liz's head. A tea cup Chihuahua she is not.

"And deep. It looks deep too"

We had a lot of fun with her though. She is one of those splashy, flashy dogs that paddle with their front feet in the air and tip over backwards and look all comical and silly. Obviously she is not a Labrador either. Nor a Portuguese water dog. Spaniel. Shark. Nope, not so much. 

"Um, thanks, but, not today....see my teeth? That's not a sharky grin, that's sheer terror."

"No, really, after you! I mean, seriously!

 Maybe next year

"Oh, alright...but there is no law that says I have to like it...."

Welcome to the Funny Farm

What...?!!?? I'm just trying to keep you safe...what are you laughing at???

Liz brought Ren down today. Landlord problems...they are going to be moving soon I guess.

Anyhow, she was noodling around the kitchen, enjoying lots of pets, and driving Gil (in his crate) up the wall.

Suddenly she began to bark frantically, with her little, white muzzle pointed toward the chair in the corner.

"OMG, OMG, Woof woof, woof," (there is a photo of a border collie on the tin I keep my garden seeds in.) "OMG!! Strange dog, strange dog!!! Alarm, alarm!"

Whatta nut.

And what unusual visual capabilities for a canine.


We have had dogs that watched TV. Mike did and tried to bite all the bad guys, especially those with guns. There are still scars on the screen of the one Ralph watches, from him saving us from evil.

But to recognize a photo on a metal can.... unprecedented among dogs I've been around.

She is lying under the table right now, growling and grumbling at it.

Westminster

Bad Housekeeping Seal of Approval

When the boss watches his TV in the evening, I hide behind a mountain of books, comfy in my corner by the big windows, Peltor ear muffs keeping me safe from politics and John Wayne movies. Last night I was perusing a lengthy young adult story Becky brought home from the library. It was pretty good, but not quite riveting.

So.......

There is a little gap between the piles of books and sometimes I glance through it. Last night a quick peep revealed a gorgeous smooth fox terrier parading around the ring at the big dog show.

I tossed the Peltors, closed the book, and watched the whole class. Although devoted to border collies and stuck on herding breeds in general, there is a soft spot in my heart for sparkling terriers too. When I was a kid I used to show smooth fox terriers for a kennel near here, once even getting an unexpected three-point major with a puppy I handled. (She was sold right out of my hands, which wasn't quite as much fun as getting those nice blue ribbons.) 

Fox terriers are courageous, elegant little dogs with hearts like lions. We used to call ours fox terrorists back before the term took on the serious connotations it has today. I was delighted when little Adam won the terrier group, and went to bed remembering Lili, Lark, Kate, and Drummer, the dogs of my short time in the show ring.

Snow Puppy

Some of us LIKE this weather

Gratuitous Happy Dog Photos

Keeping winter storm Nemo at bay as best she can....

The Northview Doggies

Got their own post at this fun dog blog, Coffee with a Canine. Pretty cool.

Because I Can

Merry Christmas <  click me!

Not Border Collies I Guess

Just read in the news how some folks did a test to see if guard dogs actually guarded. 

Their conclusion was nope, they don't. Even though the dogs in question included pit bulls and Rotties, they didn't bite or attack, and some even tried to play. Many of those who commented pointed out potential flaws in the test, but the dogs were a resounding failure in repelling boarders. 

However, they didn't test border collies

People who have walked into our house uninvited, on at least one occasion bent on stealing from us, could probably attest that BC's are not adverse to biting first and asking questions later. Ditto English shepherds. My old Brandy dog, who was probably at least partly that breed, bit several people...all of them walked in uninvited...none of them did it twice.

You can read about one instance when Mike took care of things here.

Guess they should have tested the kind of dog that will face down a ton of bull or hundreds of sheep instead of city dogs.

And, dang I miss Mike.