Category Archives: Dogs

Flashback Friday: Missy the Dog

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Yesterday I mentioned cats in heat, today I’m going to mention dogs in heat.

When I was younger I delivered newspapers. I think I delivered papers about 6 years total. I started helping my friends big brother deliver the route their house was on, then I got my own route. First I had two routes downtown, then I got the route that my house was on.

My neighbors four doors down, the Boots’es, (I remember Randy Boots, older than us by probably 10 years and he had a sister, if you said her name I’d remember, she was a few years older than us. I had a crush on her, she was cute.)

(We used to put my friend Gregs little brother, Danny, through the Boots’es doggie door in their garage and he’d let us in, and we’d play pool on the pool table in their garage. And we used to climb up on their roof when they weren’t home. One time Mr Boots came home when we were on the roof, and we ran up over the top, down the back, and straight off the edge without even slowing down. We were out of the yard before he got around back and looked up on the roof. He asked us how we got down? Jumped? and we said yes. He just shook his head and walked in his house.)

The Boots’es had a dog named Missy, who hung out at my friend Gregs house. Missy was a pure outdoor mutt. Tangled fur, grey, old. If you howled like a wolf. Missy would howl like a wolf. If you said “sickem” she would bark at whoever you were looking at. She had gnarley teeth, was stinky and ugly.This picture is sorta close, but Missy had longer cheekhair…

MissySoooo, Missy would come on my paper route with me every day. I’d deliver the few papers behind my house, then pick up my Paper Bag (not paper bag) and head down the street to the neighborhood. And every day, two doors down, Missy would come angling out from the Gunn-ses and walk beside me, just me and Missy.

Except when she was in heat, then I had about a million dogs walking with me on my route.

Poor Poor Sheba

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Poor Poor Sheba

Sheba had a rough day yesterday. First she got kicked in the teeth, then she got her ear stepped on.

We were playing with a tennis ball on the front porch. Sheba was holding the ball in her hand. I tried to kick it away from under her paw, at the same time, she tried to grab it with her mouth. I ended up kicking her in her razor-sharp chompers, she went rolling, I got a bloody toe.

Later, Sheba was recovering from her ordeal on the cool living room tiles. The Wife was making some technical adjustments on her Wii. Suddenly Sheba let out a whine-ish yelp like we’ve never heard before. The wife had accidentally stepped on her ear.

Sheba immediately came over to me for some consolation. And I suggested the wife give them dawgs some treats to compensate, which she did.

Poor Poor Sheba

Yawning

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Did you ever notice that if someone yawns, it makes you yawn too? Or if you yawn and someone sees you they’ll yawn too. Did you ever see a chain reaction in a room where someone yawns and it sets off a chain reaction throughout the room. It even works on dogs too, this morning I yawned, Ditto saw me and a second later, he yawned too. That’s what made me start thinking of this.

Today I got nothing to do and that’s what I plan on doing. Maybe dig out my bicycle or go diving. Unless my wife gives me some assignments before she leaves for work…

Interesting Morning

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Woke up this morning, which is always good. And it’s Friday, which is also good. Went to walk the dogs and feed the cats.

How come it gets light a long time before the sun comes up, but when the sun goes down, it seems to get dark almost immediately?

So, I walked the dogs, uneventful, unless you count that they both laid down some really nice big stinkies. I didn’t take pictures.

Then I fed the cats. One missing. Lee. Where’s Lee? She never misses a meal. Oh well.

cat and rat

Dishing out the cat food, and I see Lee coming out of the woods with a rat. A big one. She has him in her mouth and he’s dragging on the ground. She lays the rat down and sits in the yard, contemplating what to do. “Do I leave my catch and go eat cat food, or stay with my prize?” She comes to eat. I go check out the rat. It’s huge, as big as my foot, nose to tail. Laying in the grass. Still breathing, undamaged looking.

I hear the puck puck puck of chicken beak hitting cat bowl. Puck puck puck rhymes with fuck fuck fuck and cluck cluck cluck. What the Effin’ Hell. If I don’t sit and guard these cats while they eat, the chickens come and steal their food. What kind of cat would let a chicken steal his or her food? All of them apparently.

So

I leave the rat and approach the cat bowls, to scare the (2) chickens away so the cats can eat. One chicken runs off as I get near. The other SteeeU-Pid clucker stays there and continues to puck puck puck at the cat food.

I swatted that chicken on the back same as smacking a bad dog on the ass. She took off in a cloud of feathers and a cacophony of squalking.

Dammit. THAT woke The Wife up. But it was fun. I’ve heard of choking chickens and spanking monkeys…. does this count?

Now back to the rat. Lee the cat, done eating, shows no interest in the rat anymore. What am I going to do? Squish it with a brick? Stab it with a stick? Just leave it there? Nurse it back to health? The answer to all those questions is no.

I got one of my work gloves, Mikey Jackson would have been proud. I go to the unconscious panting rat and pick it up by the tail. Oh yeah, playin’ possum for sure. The rat started squirming around and I was glad rats can’t do sit-ups with their tails.

I walk and walk. Through the vacant lot next door, past the new house construction site. Across the street. The rat quit squirming and seems quite interested in this trip. Beady eyes looking around, whiskers twitching. Cute giant rat. Across the next street and drop the rat by the side of the road. Now he’s playing possum again, c’mon dude.

And then I came back home.

And that was all before my first cuppa coffee.

Have a good puck puck pucking weekend!

Cat Wrangler

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“they look like cats, but they’re pigsimage

We have Seven Cats (and two dogs) which makes us “Cat Wranglers”. These cats are ferrel, and after two years, I can barely touch them. Oh, they love The Wife, she can pet them and scratch their bellies and they run to her when she comes outside. I get quiet indifference.

But the purpose of this post is to tell all a yall that I think some of our cats are really pigs, namely the males. We have 3 males and 4 females and they all get one scoop twice a day. The males woof theirs down, then try to steal the rest of the ladies dinners.

So lately, I’ve been trying to stop this from happening. When the males finish first I try to prevent them from stealing the girls’s food. I just put my hand out and catwrangle them and try to stop them from pushing the ladycat out of the way.

The boys seem to understand, they quit pushing bit sit a short distance away and STARE rudely at the girls untill they walk away to preen, obviously thinking “All men are pigs!”

But in defense of men everywhere, with the dogs its the girl who is the pig, who stares, and would push the male dog out of the way, if we weren’t already such accomplished “Dawg Wranglers”