I bet that white dog could find the tennis ball. That's a terrier, right? Aren't they bred for chasing down rodents in the rocks, crawling through tight spaces in pursuit of their quarry? Their prey.
Or is it pray in rock quarries? Whatever. It looks like a Scottie to me. So called for their heavily rhotic brogue growls that go, "g-R-R-R-R-R-owl, get offa mah p-R-R-R-R-R-R-ope-R-R-R-R-R-ties. "
Here are some of the dogs that I've have pictures of:
This is a picture of Larry. His full name was Lawrence of Star Prairie. One of the best dogs that I've ever owned. Someone shot him during deer hunting when he ventured on the neighbor's land.
After Larry, I had a dog named Vicky. The picture was so dark that I couldn't scan it. Dumbest dog that I've ever owned. One morning when I left for work and took a right turn from the driveway, she ran under the right front wheel. I moved her to the ditch then buried her after I returned home from work.
Then, I friend of mine who owned two sheep dogs ran into hard times and lost his place. The female gave birth and being the sucker that I am, agreed to take the two pups. This is Frank and Earnest (get it?). Frank is on the left.
My horses hated the dogs as you can see in this picture of Earnie.
Earnie was killed by a car near the mailbox, and then about 2 weeks later, Frank didn't show up for 3 or 4 days. He finally dragged himself home using only his front legs because his rear hips were crushed. I went into the house and got my pistol and he knew exactly what was going on when I came out of the house, and tried to frantically escape. A terrible scene. No more dogs for AllenS.
We just inherited an American Eskimo that was headed for the chamber. Our warehouse employe was forced to move to a "no pets" housing situation. We took in this cute little ball of white fur. Thirteen years old with more energy than you can imagine. It doesn't run in the normal sense. It leaps. Strange to watch.
@Allen: I saw my dog hit by a speeding car when I was about five. I can still picture her running a long circular arch--almost in slow motion in my mind's eye--once around the yards and then the approaching car in the periphery and my realization that the arcs were going to collide. I think I looked away at the very moment of impact--I don't remember the sort of thing they like to show now in movies--but I remain the aftermath and her just licking our hands as she died, looking up at us with sad brown eyes.
You live in the country where things like that are the norm. I was in suburban Middleton where things like that don't happen so much anymore. Leash laws and rules point put an end to such deaths.
I read your stories and think of the clash between city and country.
My driveway is on the top of a hill, and impossible for any driver to see what's on the road if driving south. People speed like crazy out here.
Surprisingly, I've always had cats that mostly lived in the barn. I don't think they've ever been hit by a car.
Deer? They've been hit 5 times right in front of the driveway or close to it. When it happens at night, I go outside immediately and drag them off the road so they don't get all squished before I can take a tractor and drag them out back.
When I raised cattle, there would always be one of them that would find a way through the fence and to the ditch to eat grass (which was always greener). It was always the same one that would get out. People constantly stopped to let me know one was out, and I always knew which one it was. Open the gate by the barn, then get on the other side of the escapee and walk towards it, and it would run to the driveway, turn right and right back into the pasture. Never had one hit by a car, thank God.
Animals know more than we think. A tree fell on the barbed wire fence for the horses one time and took out a lot of fence. I ran a single barb wire temporary fence so I could cut the tree and fix the fence. I made sure the horses knew where the new fence was, and put some white cloth strips on it.
That didn't stop JJ from running full blast into the new wire and then he ran along side of it for a while and cut his shoulder all the way to the bone. It was obvious that I had to put him down. When he saw me approaching with the rifle, he knew exactly what was going to happen, and again the animal tried to frantically run away. It's unfortunate, but sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do.
I was in 8th grade at summer camp at Living History Farms in Urbandale, Iowa (where popes and presidents come to have their photo op with the visual backdrop of the historic family farm).
I saw a white horse get itself tangled up in some loosely baled barb wire and struggle to free itself, panicking, making it worse, and the blood flowed and flowed, till someone went out and shot it.
Horrifying. I still have occasional nightmares of this scene replaying in my mind, now almost 35 years later.
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21 comments:
You could lose that little dog in the snow.
Zeus might have a hard time finding him.
Oh that little white scruffy dog is adorable.
I bet that white dog could find the tennis ball. That's a terrier, right? Aren't they bred for chasing down rodents in the rocks, crawling through tight spaces in pursuit of their quarry? Their prey.
Or is it pray in rock quarries? Whatever. It looks like a Scottie to me. So called for their heavily rhotic brogue growls that go, "g-R-R-R-R-R-owl, get offa mah p-R-R-R-R-R-R-ope-R-R-R-R-R-ties. "
Now a couple more dogs, a card table with green baize cover, some cards, and you'd have something.
Chip, that's a West Highland Terrier.
Very cool dog, good size, great temperament. Less neurotic dogs than Yorks.
As for rodents, that's more a Yorkie thing. Quasy's son, Quicksilver, chased one down a hole and stuck on the trail for 4 days.
He got back to his family afterward (they call him, Lou, can you imagine?).
I wonder how long until governments start recognizing marriages between animals?
Running with the big dogs. Well played, Westie!
Westies,Saints, and Labs OH MY.
kentuckyliz said...
Running with the big dogs. Well played, Westie!
You should see Sherlock.
PS Just to prove everything is recycled eventually, I saw this same basic joke in my 5th grade history book, 55 years ago.
Here are some of the dogs that I've have pictures of:
This is a picture of Larry. His full name was Lawrence of Star Prairie. One of the best dogs that I've ever owned. Someone shot him during deer hunting when he ventured on the neighbor's land.
After Larry, I had a dog named Vicky. The picture was so dark that I couldn't scan it. Dumbest dog that I've ever owned. One morning when I left for work and took a right turn from the driveway, she ran under the right front wheel. I moved her to the ditch then buried her after I returned home from work.
Then, I friend of mine who owned two sheep dogs ran into hard times and lost his place. The female gave birth and being the sucker that I am, agreed to take the two pups. This is Frank and Earnest (get it?). Frank is on the left.
My horses hated the dogs as you can see in this picture of Earnie.
Earnie was killed by a car near the mailbox, and then about 2 weeks later, Frank didn't show up for 3 or 4 days. He finally dragged himself home using only his front legs because his rear hips were crushed. I went into the house and got my pistol and he knew exactly what was going on when I came out of the house, and tried to frantically escape. A terrible scene. No more dogs for AllenS.
Jesus Allen.
Allen you may want to try cats. Or something that doesn't leave the porch.
We just inherited an American Eskimo that was headed for the chamber. Our warehouse employe was forced to move to a "no pets" housing situation. We took in this cute little ball of white fur. Thirteen years old with more energy than you can imagine. It doesn't run in the normal sense. It leaps. Strange to watch.
@Allen: I saw my dog hit by a speeding car when I was about five. I can still picture her running a long circular arch--almost in slow motion in my mind's eye--once around the yards and then the approaching car in the periphery and my realization that the arcs were going to collide. I think I looked away at the very moment of impact--I don't remember the sort of thing they like to show now in movies--but I remain the aftermath and her just licking our hands as she died, looking up at us with sad brown eyes.
You live in the country where things like that are the norm. I was in suburban Middleton where things like that don't happen so much anymore. Leash laws and rules point put an end to such deaths.
I read your stories and think of the clash between city and country.
Well done, Allen
But why is your White West Highland Terrier white?
We could never keep ours better than a medium tan color except for right after his bath.
It wasn't until we brought him to the vets right after a bath that the vet finally believed him to be a White Westie.
None of the dogs is ours, but the Westie is even less ours than the other 2.
Takes balls (or ovaries) to howl. Who qualifies among the abused?
My driveway is on the top of a hill, and impossible for any driver to see what's on the road if driving south. People speed like crazy out here.
Surprisingly, I've always had cats that mostly lived in the barn. I don't think they've ever been hit by a car.
Deer? They've been hit 5 times right in front of the driveway or close to it. When it happens at night, I go outside immediately and drag them off the road so they don't get all squished before I can take a tractor and drag them out back.
When I raised cattle, there would always be one of them that would find a way through the fence and to the ditch to eat grass (which was always greener). It was always the same one that would get out. People constantly stopped to let me know one was out, and I always knew which one it was. Open the gate by the barn, then get on the other side of the escapee and walk towards it, and it would run to the driveway, turn right and right back into the pasture. Never had one hit by a car, thank God.
Animals know more than we think. A tree fell on the barbed wire fence for the horses one time and took out a lot of fence. I ran a single barb wire temporary fence so I could cut the tree and fix the fence. I made sure the horses knew where the new fence was, and put some white cloth strips on it.
That didn't stop JJ from running full blast into the new wire and then he ran along side of it for a while and cut his shoulder all the way to the bone. It was obvious that I had to put him down. When he saw me approaching with the rifle, he knew exactly what was going to happen, and again the animal tried to frantically run away. It's unfortunate, but sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do.
I was in 8th grade at summer camp at Living History Farms in Urbandale, Iowa (where popes and presidents come to have their photo op with the visual backdrop of the historic family farm).
I saw a white horse get itself tangled up in some loosely baled barb wire and struggle to free itself, panicking, making it worse, and the blood flowed and flowed, till someone went out and shot it.
Horrifying. I still have occasional nightmares of this scene replaying in my mind, now almost 35 years later.
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