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I want to enjoin my blog pal Palladian calling on Althouse to get Zeus his own blog tag.How long must a dog bark before they call him a larkThe Answer my friendis blowing in the wind..The Answer is blowing in the wind.
Awesome, there is nothing like watching a bunch of happy dogs frolicking in the grass.
Sherlock would love to be out there with those guys.Especially with all that running room.
When I got home from work this evening, there were weird white flashes in the foggy air, all over the place. I thought I am about to be abducted by aliens.I open the door and the cats run outside to frolic. Then a hellstorm breaks loose. One cat makes it back inside, but the other is stuck out there in the storm. My sweet queen Softie.The ol' lady made it back in when things calmed down again.Turns out the white flashes were lightening in fog. But there was no thunder at all! It was silent. And very strange.Maybe the aliens took someone else.
Dogs. Ya gotta love 'em.
Very nice video.(A Black Lab adopted us when I was six, my brother seven. Captain O'Hara from across the street brought "Blacky" home after rescuing him from a late-night fire. We were told not to go near “THAT DOG!,” he was an anti-social “killer” (a trained guard dog). But after dinner one night my brother slipped into the O'Hara's backyard and gave Blacky a pork chop. A particularly nice pork chop. That was it. Buddies forever.But we soon learned that Captain O'Hara wasn't kidding about Blacky being "anti-social." Not with us kids, but virtually any adult or neighborhood animal. He loved us kids, was infinitely patient when we were roughhousing, but god help any grownup within shouting distance. Still, for a few weeks he got to follow us around, play games, until they were forced to put him down. They told us he was going to a farm upstate to kill rats, just like he killed a neighbor's Collie. And the kitten next door. My brother and I just couldn't understand it; why was Blacky killing everything in sight. Except us kids. Worse, he wouldn’t stayed tied up behind the O'Hara's. No matter how much Mrs. O'Hara beat him with a broom. Which was another mystery, how "she" got away with it?Then one day, with blood on his muzzle, they took Blacky away. But not before he slept next to my brother's bed, swam in the nearby lake, pulled us around in the red wagon, and chased the "Indians" away...)
"Barbet" ... interesting link to the origins of the Poodle. The Italian name for a Poodle is " Barbone Francese," or "Bearded Frenchie" (think of Frederic Barbarossa). I wonder if a "Barbet" is another name for a Poodle ... without a beard trim.
Irene, that's beautiful.Almost A, what a story. God bless Blacky.Bedtime. Past.Sweet dreams, puppies, and lovers of pups.
My crazy deaf ataxic white cat just LOVED watching the video. Now he's watching football highlights.Is that the dog park near Northport? Prairie Moraine in Verona is also good...lots of room to run and a big ol' slimy mud puddle at certain times of the year.
Thanks, Meade. Blacky was worth it, and more.
Gus has the yellow eyes of a Chesapeake Bay Retriever...is he?
Yes, he does have eyes like a CBR. Gus is a chocolate Lab. But he could very well have some other breeds in his ancestry. Many American Labs do.
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