Ya know, a few more like Beck and Sampiro and we could have a good old time with story telling =)
You know, for someone who had a kidney removed just weeks ago, you’re doing a lot of Bigtoe hunting. Hard to convince the kids that you’re not strong enough to clean the bathrooms.
In fact, maybe this has all been a big physical therapy hoax perpetrated on you by your loving family. Let’s get Ma to run up hills!
StG
You know who else likes to hunt for Big"toe" and wood apes? Rob Lowe. He and his sons searched for them on the show The Lowe Files. His “guide” for the wood ape episode tells the story here: My Long, Strange Night With Rob Lowe
I’m always packing heat. Mr.Wrekker won’t let me out without a long gun.
I miss Sampiro. I miss Eve too.
I walk slow. And take lots of breaks.
I am REALLY too weak to clean tubs and do heavy garden work. Seriously, I am 
I made The lil’wrekker and Hamza help me for a long time in the garden today. They hate me now. They’ll like me again when they eat a fresh tomato. (:))
——open letter to BigToe the Bigfoot——
I assume he’s hairy, Stinky and large and in-charge.
I want to see him but I dread the prospect.
I kinda wish I was invisible like I am in my everyday life. I could just peek around trees and see him sitting or walking.
Why hasn’t any sasquatch hunters ever caught sight of one just sitting or asleep? Maybe having a quiet lunch of frogs and weeds sitting by a tree stump?
That would be much more peaceful than sasquatch chunking huge boulders at my head. Or screaming bigfoot obcenties at me.
=========>
Hey, Mr. BigToe Bigfoot,
I live here too. I’d appreciate you eating as many feral hogs as you like, really 2 or 3 a day would really help me out, loads. Kinda hope you leave my chickens alone. I’ll share eggs with you though.
My garden is strickly out-of-bounds. Your big feet won’t fit between my rows.
You can get all the fish you want from the pond, but fishing is poor out there. The fish have smartened up. So good luck on that.
Seriously all that knocking noise you make at night is disturbing. You see I’m an insomniac as well. I get it. Anything to kill time is a worthy enterprise at 3am. As long as you’re quiet. Some peeps do sleep at night. No one needs a grouchy Mr.Wrekker.
When the movie people who are offering me the big $$$ for my story of sighting you, can you please slip around close to the house a few times. Scream a coupla times. Maybe some nice footprints.
Thanks so much:
b.
After you sign the movie contract, and the film is made, and the Oscars are awarded, then you send the grand-wreks down to the pond to fill buckets with that slimy mud.
Repackage the mud in tiny ziploc bags, the kind the dope pushers use to hold “product.”
People will buy ANYTHING. Your little baggies should be labeled “Genuine Big-Toe Jam!”
You’ll make a fortune!
~VOW
~VOW, girl! You crack me up. If I do that I’ll be sure you share in my millions 
And get the credit for it.
I have no idea.
******Early morning Escapades ******
Early alarm by Siamese cats howling for their breakfast.
Mr.Wrekker in the bathroom making noises that no human should make.
One eye open, clock says 6:45am.
Jeebus criminy crickets!
I’m tripping the light fantastic. Trying not to trip on pets circling my ankles.
To the French doors, dogs all go out except Yorkie Grace, I use a toe an push her out on the deck.
In 3 minutes the cats are eating their pate’ and I’m making coffee.
I go out on the deck. Yorkie hasn’t moved off the doormat. I ‘toed’ her to her puppy pad. The other dogs are in various stages of relieving themselves, on the grass.
(An aside: the re-potty training of the Chihuahuas has gone rather well, if I say so myself)
I look down toward the pond.
Setting the scene: There’s a mist hanging low. Can’t see the water. I hear bird song. And a few froggy noises.
Wait. What was that? I heard splashing water. I’m think that’s what it was.
I walk to the far end of the deck. Yes, yes. Definatly water splashing. Hmmm?
Behind me, “What the hell is splashing that water?”
Holy crappola, I nearly jumped outta my skin. I reel around. It’s Big Wrek. 2 feet behind me. Dammit man!
I look at him. He’s says again, “What was that?” “Has to be something big?”
The hell you say?
I call the dogs back up and pick Yorkie up and put her in my pocket.
Everyone is in their spot waiting on kibble to be meted out.
Even Big Wrek is sitting at the island looking starved. I mete out his kibble.
And drink my protein shake.
I ask BW, are you going down to the pond and see what that was splashing down there?
He sez, “Nope, I’m afraid of Bigfoot!”
WTH?
He gets up, puts his hat on to go outside, for who knows what, and over his shoulder he says, “Take the 30.06 when you go walking.”
Dude! Pah-leese! Like I’m going down there.
b. Back in the safety of my bed chamber.
Tell Big Wrek you want a grenade launcher for Mother’s Day.
~VOW
Oh, he’d get a big charge outta buying grenade launcher.
No. I’m pretty sure I don’t need one of those hanging around the house.
Worse than handing one to the Mythbusters?
I told Son-of-a-wrek about the splashing sounds we heard, this morning. Surprising, but, Mr.Wrekker backed me up on it.
Son is gonna set up a game camera on the near side of the pond. His conspiracy theories are burning a hole in his brain. He needs all his brain cells, so this worries me.
The boy needs occupation to fill his head. He’s kinda dangerous with freetime on his hands.
He has to work the next two days to do the payroll. His boss/manager, (the big bosses Son-in-law) is in the hospital recovering from a heart attack.
But, all he can think about is BigToe, Bigfoot.
I’ve created a monster. And it ain’t a sasquatch.
DIL is not too happy with me at the moment :eek:
How about a 6-pounder?
Now you’re talking!!
--------Full Moon foolishness--------
Clear and cool out tonight. The house is asleep. Can ol’beck sleep?
Nope.
I’m sitting in my window seat looking at the full moon.
It’s lunacy, I know, but I heard animal sounds.
I make my way down stairs trying not wake the pets. I slip out onto the deck. It’s damp and eerie.
I listen to woods noises. Whipporwills are very loud. It seems like they are right underneath me. I know better.
Between them and the bullfrogs calling for rain, it’s hard to think.
I hear knocking. Wood hitting wood. It’s very far away, I think. I listen for a pattern, there is none.
Behind me toward the drive I heard the animal sound again. A low guttural growl, maybe. No not a growl, more like a howl, but very low. I heard it at least 6 times.
It doesn’t sound evil. It sounds like it’s saying “I’m passing through here, move over.”
There’s a limited amount of animals that can make that sound.
Buck deer will snort. Bobcats scream. Pigs grunt. This wasn’t any of those.
Not sure if a Bear rumbles or groans like this.
It’s most certainly a new sound in these woods. Added to the wood knocking and I ascertain I’m hearing my friendly neighborhood Bigfoot. Namely BigToe.
Wait til I tell Son-of-a-wrek.
I predict he’ll be spending the night on my deck, soon.
I sit still on the top step on the deck pondering how I’m gonna tell him without getting sold out again…and something cold and wet touches my elbow. I explode upwards and nearly fall off the deck, backwards.
Holy crappola.
It’s Betsy the Beagle. She scared the bejeebus outta me. My heart is in my throat.
I never wanted to scream so bad in my whole life. But, I caught before it came out. I clapped my hand over my mouth just in time.
Well, I just lost a year or two of my life-time.
I gotta quit this. At this rate I’ll be dead far sooner than I’d like.
Me and Betsy slip back in the house. I eat a cracker and she gets one too.
Then we go back upstairs. She’s sleeping on my left foot, right now.
b. trying to regulate my breathing and heart rate.
Feral hogs will eat a person … pigs are omnivores and nasty.
Really, woods are not city parks, they have animals and a pack of feral house dogs created from people dumping them will attack anything edible if htey are hungry enough and the prey looks doable. mrAru lived in a 13 foot travel trailer as a bedroom growing up on his aunt and uncles ‘grape ranch’ on the river in Kerman CA, and he used to have to carry a gun if he wandered out to pee in the middle of the night, coyotes and dogs … in rural eastern CT [Canterbury for those joining us late in midbroadcast] there are feral dogs that I had to shoot when we still kept poultry and sheep - and more than one of those ‘feral’ dogs were wearing collars [animal control got a call to haul the bodies away and ticket owners if there were chips or tags]
So many great story tellers here. Almost worth doing a Best of the Dope book and reprinting the best posts, have ot get permissions from the various authors. sigh
Yep. Feral hogs are dangerous.
You should hear them fighting amongst themselves. It sounds horrible.
We’ve found a coupla bodies that were killed by thier own brethren.
Mr.Wrekker runs us through the wandering around the place protocol, regularly.