Tales From The Bark Side: A Dog MMP

Maggie vs. The Killer Rabbit
For a beagle mix, Maggie Wonderbeagle had zero hunting ability, and the local rabbits knew it. The seldom did more than keep a 6 foot separation, and I think that was more to avoid being crushed by me if I tripped and fell. Except one day. We came out, walked down the stoop steps, and spooked one. Mr. Bunny bolted for the fence and the safety of the bunny sized escape hole, when he decided that Sto’Vo’Kor would be a better destination than the regular rabbit afterlife, so he stopped, turned, and charged us, intending to die for The Glory of The KlingonRabbit Empire. Of course he merely bounced off Maggie’s leg, and scampered off the other way, no worse for wear. Maggie did have a limp for the rest of the walk, however.

Up, caffeinenated, and sheveled. Off to heave. Hijack away!

First! It’s good to be juve–uh, live on the west coast, where it’s still yesterday.

Love the story, doggio. My dear, departed lab would bark excitedly when a plastic bag blew down the road. My sweet English setter mix went into point if a fly landed on the refrigerator. Sometimes the dream is all you’ve got.


Haven’t gone to bed yet.

Morning, mumpers! It’s hot and sticky over here today, we have had record temperatures over the weekend, and now we’re looking forward to a 36hr weather warning from Wednesday for thunderstorms and torrential rain.

My cats have been occasional hunters, one of them used to bring me butterflies and looked terribly proud of herself when she dropped one in front of me. She rarely damaged them even though she carried them in her mouth, and most of them survived the trauma and indignity. The current trio have brought in birds and small mice, and I found a frog’s remains when I moved the sofa…Shadow got a pigeon outside but couldn’t fit it and himself through the catflap!

I had a busy weekend so haven’t really been in the MMP since Friday, so hugs and whatnot all round, for those that want or need.

Morning all. Up at 5:30am, expect nappage later on. Another day in the 90’s is expected.

Thanks for the tale, doggio. Been may years since I owned a dog, so no tales of their hunting prowess (plus she was a dachshund, and we didn’t have many badgers around…).

Managed to somehow erase my entire e-mail inbox yesterday, still not sure what I did wrong but they’re not in the trash or any other file, they are gone, gone, gone. Nothing to critical, but irritating.

This week is highlighted with the Thorsday dentist appointment and various and sundry happenings. I also need to unpack my Garmin GPS and do the dreaded ‘read the instructions’.

All y’all have a good Moanday.

Good Mornin’ Y’all! Up and caffeinatin’. YAWN ‘Tis 70 degrees Amurrkin out and N.O.S. with a predicted high of 95 and mostly N.O.S. for the day. Cleanin’ lady will be here around ten this mornin’ to spiff da cave. I have a doc appointment at three-fifteen, and Vestry meetin’ tonight at six. Yee and Haw. Sup shall be leftovers from yestiddy.

I had a very much beloved Cocker Spaniel named Jake, AKA BoBo. He’s been gone twenty-four years and I still miss him. However, great hunter he was not. He would freak out and whine if a butterfly got anywhere near him. I would tell people to beware lest he lick you to death.

Now I need more caffeine and to feed rumbly tummy. Then I suppose I should make myself presentable before cleanin’ lady arrives. Such bother!

Happy Moanday Y’all!

I just wanted to point out that you misspelled “tails” in the title.

But since I’m here, I do have a doggie tail. Back when my elderly mother lived with us, she had home care services, and the least frequent visitor was a dietician, who only came by around every two months or so. She was also the least tolerant of Bernie the Bernese Mountain Dog, who naturally assumed that the sole purpose of any visitor was to play with him, and he enthusiastically launched his 120 pounds upon them so he could lick their faces to get the fun started.

So after experiencing this during her first visit, she opened the patio door and went out on the deck. Bernie trotted out after her, whereupon she ducked back inside and closed the door. Bernie stood out there looking in, looking forlorn and betrayed.

She was back about two months later, and of course Bernie was all over her again. So she opened the patio door and went out on the deck again. Bernie ran up to the door and sat down, looking at her from inside. His big smile clearly showed there was no ill will; he had figured out that this was a game of wits, aka “who’s smarter?”, and was waiting for her to make the next move. I do believe that if the patio door wasn’t so heavy, he would have slid it shut with his snout, like he does with the screen door, and then locked it, leaving her outside and securing his victory in Round 2.

Up earlier than usual for a revised commute to allow for the traffic nightmare created by having several miles of a major freeway shut down, officially for another 48 hours or so (this started Friday night). I do not have a lot of faith in that completing on schedule.

It’s not even 5am and it’s already 62F (17C). Projected high today 85F (29C). Thursday, we could get as high as 110F (43C). Eeewwww.

Already dreading Hades Annex.

Greetings, fellow Mumpers! We’re promised mid-80s and a possible t-boomer this afternoon. I need to deposit a check at the credit union this morning. FCD has his knee doc appointment (FINALLY!!!) at 10:30. And my big plan for the day is cleaning the fridge. Apart from finding a couple of science experiments tucked away in there, the shelves are all in need of a good scrub, plus it’s an easy way to inventory the contents. In fact, I should clean first, since the credit union is next to Food Lion and I may find I need something.

Later this week, I’ll get blood drawn before seeing my doc next week to determine whether the reduced dose of cholesterol meds is OK or if I need to go back to full dose. And somewhere along the line, my daughter will come by so we can figure out how I’ll make her preggo dresses and what needs to be done with one of her older preggo dresses - she wants me to alter it - hope it’s an easy fix.

I’ve started another afghan - since plague is abating, I’ll contact the local nursing home again and see if they’re accepting donations. It’ll be a relief to get rid of the bag in the corner of the bedroom. I’ll run them thru a rinse load, tho, since they’ve been sitting so long they could use a freshening.

As for dog tales, we only had one hunter, and it was his downfall, alas. Freeway was a terrier mix foundling. When we’d go to work, he’d have the run of the yard with access to the garage via doggy door in case of weather. One day, we came home to find him unwell, so much so, that we took him to the emergency vet. The vet kept asking if he might have gotten into antifreeze because he was obviously poisoned. Poor little guy died that night.

The next day, our Dalmatian, Pixel, was carrying something in her mouth - a small coral snake! (We were living in Florida at the time.) Dead, thankfully, but it explained what probably happened to Freeway - he lost the fight but killed his foe. :cry: The hardest part was telling our daughter, since she’d found him in the first place. We buried him in our back yard. He was a good pup.

If there’s anything happy to come from this story, it’s that we adopted Bernie shortly thereafter. She was a border collie/lab mix and the sweetest dog you’d ever want to know. We got her from a no-kill shelter when she was about 18 months old, and she lived to be nearly 16. She’s the dog against whom all others come up wanting! She was gently, very pretty, and she adopted me. Even tho she shed black hair all over the place, I miss her.

So, then, Happy Moanday!!

I always thought of myself as a dog person until I got a cat. Always had a dog growing up. First was Daisy (real name Diomedes) an English Springer. Then came Scarlett, an Irish Setter. My sister always had dogs. My nephew and niece have dogs. I like dogs, I just don’t want one. At a friends last night and her exuberant Pit/Boxer rescue who had never been inside a house, had no manners, and only wants affection, ate his poo. Then wanted a kiss from me. Dogs are tacky. And yes, dog’s manners have vastly improved and he is in training.

Woke up to every anxiety, self-recrimination, and source of angst presently troubling me all roiling in my brain and shouting over each other to compete for my attention. Pretty sure I dreamed about people giving me shit about the stuff that I keep beating myself up about.

This is doubtlessly being triggered by the looming, impending Visit From My Mother, where she’s gonna give me shit about stuff that bothers me, too and then I wind up being defensive about stuff I’m not happy about, either. (Clutter, why haven’t I done X yet, why did I pay for Y instead of doing it myself, etc.)

I had a brief, blessed moment in that in-between place - no longer asleep but not yet awake - and then they all started churning and my 1st conscious thought was, “No, no, NO! Go 'way.”

So I’m up now. :upside_down_face:

Let the kitties out, of course, since it ain’t exactly gonna get cooler outside from here. The biiiiiiiiiiiig trash truck is rattling up and down the nearby blocks, so they’re occasionally compelled to run (or waddle quickly) back inside.

I dread it right along with you. You - and your team members - deserve better.

Mine, too!

Oh. Back to “purple doesn’t DO enough” territory. Scrubbing shelves - what?!
If I toss the worst of the rotting things, the oh-just-forget-it-never-gonna-eat-it things, and general crud, I’ll be happy enough, since I’ve been putting off that chore for too long.
Then, imma give myself crap for doing it the day trash got picked up, since now it’s gonna rot further in the hot trash bin for the week.

None of this is a knock against MOOooooommm who’s nice, dammit! Just a particularly good example of the self-recrimination that I wake up with every fucking morning.
Nothing I do is good enough, somehow.

This is the absolute best name for a dalmatian that I’ve ever heard. :slight_smile:

So far, I’m counting two (2) Bernies, and a whole lotta good doggies. What a lovely thread!

Good morning, everyone. We used to own pugs, and they’re not renowned as hunters. But one of them was perpetually hungry and would eat anything, so any time we found a cricket in the house, we’d call her. She’d come running and pounce on the cricket and crunch it up with an expression of acute distaste on her face, but she loved them. The bigger, spikier ones defeated her, though.

Sheets are washing and soon to be drying. Breakfast is planned out: it’s to be chile verde and eggs, which I’ve seen listed as a menu item at a nearby Mexican restaurant. I have a little leftover chile verde and some corn tortillas, so why not? Afterwards, it’s up to my office to go to work.

Today I have to call some more contractors so that we can get our kitchen painted. We want to paint the grungy old builders grade oak cabinets white and paint the white walls gray. Contractor #1 doesn’t answer the email I sent him, and contractor #2 doesn’t return my phone call nor answer through the Yelp contact portal. So on to other contractors, even though they’re not rated as high as the first two.

Things have leaked or spilled and I ignored them for far too long - that’s why I have to scrub the shelves. Like having chickie tits, wrapped, thawing in the fridge. When they are thawed, they leak and the chicken liquid spreads then dries on the shelf if I don’t wipe it up right away, which obviously I didin’t do. Or the cup of Roxy juice that tipped. Or the 'mater that got lost and went bad and oozed a bit… Yes, I’ve neglected it for far too long. At least it doesn’t stink - it’s just sticky and gross.

And on that note, I’m done surfing for the morning and I’m about to attack the fridge!

Slept in this AM. I guess actually being with people yesterday tired me out. Gotta share my fierce hunter pup stalking a bunny.

Yup, the bunny got away.

I have a deer-turned-giant-dog in my backyard now. I managed to conquer the squirrels eating my bird seed with a squirrel baffle (love those things now - hours of entertainment) when last night, as I was watering the tomatoes, I noticed a deer walking toward the feeder. I attempted to chase it off, only it just stared at me about a foot from the feeder.

Finally, I went back to the patio and threw something at its feet (didn’t want to injure it, but did want to startle it). No reaction except to back up maybe a foot and give me a vaguely annoyed look along the lines of, “Seriously, woman?” So I walked over and casually took down the bird feeder. In retrospect, this was not a good idea - I could’ve been hurt because it was just feet from the deer.

I walked over to the patio to set it in a secure location until I could get seed the thing didn’t want. Much to my astonishment, I heard a clop-clop-clop behind me and turned and, lo and behold, the deer was strolling along behind me. So I snapped, “Dammit, this isn’t a buffet!” The deer ran off and hid behind a bush. Badly. Its butt was sticking out of one end, head out of another like a freaking cartoon deer. I managed to chase it off the property but unsurprisingly the seed is almost gone today. Today: get cayenne-laced bird seed if possible.

Talky - Lacing your birdseed with cayenne pepper does wonders for squirrels and other mammals. Unfortunately, I have been known to mace myself while adding cayenne to the birdfeeder.

doggo - be careful of those attack rabbits.

I had a fairly good ride this morning. It was a bit muggy and the gnats were out. I didn’t get any in my mouth, so there’s a plus.

Mrs Magill had her most productive weekend since she had gotten sick. We ran some errands, framed and hung some pictures, and exchanged children with Camp Widjiwagan. Squeaky came home from Star Wars camp (to no one’s surprise, he turned to the dark side), and Spike is off to Harry Potter camp. Fang continued with CIT. The counselors we spoke with said that he was great with the campers.

It’s Squeaky’s turn to be an only child for the week. The first thing he asked for was Mexican take out. Fang doesn’t like Mexican, so we rarely get it.

It’s five after nine. I think I’ll get Squeaky up. If Mrs Magill and I can’t lounge in bed all day, neither can he.

The fridge is clean!! Among my discoveries:

  • EIGHT POUNDS of butter!!
  • Way past date half-n-half
  • Formerly fresh green beans that were turning black and fuzzy
  • Two identical, open jars of dill slices - now combined into one
  • a container of solidified grease with little white spots growing on it
  • And, most disturbing of all - cat hair!

It appears Taz is raiding the fridge! :open_mouth:


I’ve now got a clean fridge that’s re-chilling. FCD has left for his Dr appt. I’m about to head to the credit union and to Food Lion.

The computer must have had a power surge over the weekend. A bunch of stuff for White 43 went to the 400 boxline, a bunch of stuff for one of the 300 boxline package cars went to 43, and a bunch of 300 stuff was mislabeled. But job security, hours, and knowing the robot apocalypse will fall flat on its face makes it all worth it.


Mooooommmm!, next week is the quarterly fridge scrubbing.

: skritches :

That rabbit’s dynamite!

Good morning one and all. Got up early, emailed sick, turned on my out-of-office reply, and went back to sleep. Well, essentially I catnapped because my sucky couch is uncomfortable and getting back into bed where the husband had been tossing, turning, and scratching was a non-starter.

I grew up with dogs. My first dog was killed by a tarantula in Oklahoma. She was a little thing and she jumped between the very large tarantula and my mother’s hand. She died when she got to the vet. I was just a tot then, so I don’t really remember her.

My dad brought home a half-wolf dog that didn’t stay with us very long. There was a very heated conversation, as I recall between my mother and father. The half-wolf went back to whence he came. Next came Smokey, who we had for many years. He was named Smokey because he looked like smoke; shades of gray, white and black. When we moved, he kind of became the leader of the other dogs in the neighborhood. It was funny to see a mutt leading around dogs large and small. At any rate, someone poisoned him. I was heartbroken. We tried to keep him in the yard, but he was an escape artist.

Next came Pierre, whom my mother gave to someone else while we were at summer camp. He kept digging holes, and rather than work on training him, she got rid of him. I spent an entire year pissed at my mother. In the meantime, one of the neighbor’s dogs had pups again, so we got Prince and I spent the remaining years growing up with him.

Prince was just a mutt, but extremely protective of the girls and didn’t much care for men. He wasn’t a hunter, but he was my constant shadow. I missed him horribly when I moved out. The neighbor hated Prince and had a big pittie that didn’t like anybody or anything. My mom came home from work one day to discover Prince gone, as well as the neighbor’s dog. My mother thinks the neighbor’s dog got a hold of Prince and killed him. Broke my heart to lose the guy, even though I had moved out by then. He LOVED me and I wanted to take him with me, but we couldn’t find apartments that accepted pets.

I went for many years without a dog, when we finally got our Cap’n. He wasn’t a hunter, although he and our cat both managed to kill a few moles. He LUUUUUURRRRRRVED sticks and would proudly carry logs in his mouth, or multiple sticks. He didn’t quite understand drop it or release while playing fetch, so we always had to have a stick in reserve. He was protective of his pack and “talked” to us all the time. He was really, really unhappy with us when we left the house and spent 30 to 45 minutes giving us hell when we would return. He was a big love bug and generally loved people. However, if he stiffened around someone, we paid attention. He was almost always right about them. We lost him to cancer. I still cry when thinking about him. We had him for about nine years.

Next came Polar a Siberian Husky mix and then two weeks after Polar, we got Brandi, a lab mix. Polar had a very strong prey drive and although he’s slowed down quite a bit, still intently watches any animal that makes the mistake of coming into our yard. Polar has killed opossums (big ones too!), squirrels, field mice, and birds. He dropped one dead squirrel at my feet IN THE HOUSE. I am not a shrieker, but that freaked me out because I didn’t realize what it was until it rolled onto my foot. Polar and Brandi got into all kinds of shenanigans together and escaped often until I managed to secure my yard and fence with pavers they couldn’t move. Polar “talks” to us all the time and doesn’t like to be told no, at all. He’s also extremely protective of his pack. Brandi was just a love bug and wanted nothing more than to love and be loved. She received much love, but we finally had to say goodbye last November. She was in a lot of pain and old for her breed. I don’t think Polar has gotten over it.

It’s rainy today but should dry out by the latter part of the week. Yesterday was very, very, VERY soggy. However, the birds were out the feeder non-stop all day yesterday.

Well, I think I’m going to try and lie down again. I’m feeling pretty icky.

I’ve got a 18mo Australian shepherd mix and that dog LOVES to run. When he gets board he sprints in circles around our 12yr old golden retriever while she turns in circles and barks at him.

That’s funny to watch but the real comedy occurs when you actually take him running with you (his absolute favorite activity). Goes full sprint for nearly a mile while dragging me behind him (he wears a full harness) with my feet barely touching the ground. I’ve not measured how fast we’re going but it’s way faster than I can sprint. We take a water break around the 1.5mi mark then head back at my pace.