Rural living... in which the Armorer learns he should stay retired...
It's Wednesday evening and I drive up to the Castle, where I'm greeted, as usual, by Kiki, highlighted on the motte the Castle sits on as I drive up the hill. She is back-lit by the side-door lights, it's a very Thomas Kinkade moment - if Kinkade painted walk-out ranches. We only *wish* the Castle was a Kinkade-style house! SWWBO and I have a Rotary fundraising event that we're working. It's a cold day. Oh, bull, it's a howling blizzard. The dogs have been out for about three hours, and Kiki is ready to come in. But Gunner hasn't shown up. Unusual. I give out a call that echoes through the dells and valleys of the Forest of Argghhh!. That usually works. SWWBO and I take about 30 minutes to get ready, with me stepping out to call Gunner now and again. The blizzard is getting worse.
It's time to go, and still no Gunner. SWWBO is openly concerned. I point out the little goofball likes the snow, is very fluffy, and it's only 30 degrees or so, plenty warm for Gunner if he has to hang out on the deck, waiting for us to get back. But I share her disquiet. We hop in the truck, pop her into 4-high, and off we go to the Ambassadors. With a little knot of worry in the pit of my stomach.
We bought this place to get out of the city. SWWBO and I are really introverts, blogs and willingness to engage in public speaking notwithstanding. Ya haven't seen us at the pub crawls, have you? 8^ ) The Exterior Guard are in heaven! We deliberately bought this place because it was surrounded by working farms. What we should have done was check on the age and health of the farmers... the 160-acre parcel to our east was ranched by a gentleman in his 70's who developed a sudden health problem and died late last summer. His heirs couldn't wait to get the property on the market. One of our local businessmen bought it, and while he doesn't intend to develop it right away (hardly the market right now) he clearly has... "plans," seeing as how he went and asked the Water District for 62 water meters. They turned him down. That's all in the future. For now, they're hunting and trapping the area.
The Saturday before our story opened SWWBO and Gunner were down checking out the area where SWWBO intends to establish the Truck Garden of Argghhh! this spring. I was on my way to do errands in town and was driving down to the moat crossing (hey, you have creeks, we have a moat, tomayto, tomahto) when we saw a stranger in mossy oak camo and a rifle over his shoulder moving down the stream-bed (hey, it's not a moat until it crosses into the demesne). Nice guy, named Ryan, he's a buddy of the new owner. He's been given permission to hunt and trap the parcel. He's out getting familiar with the property lines, trying to meet the neighbors. He doesn't realize the area he's in is actually ours - the fence lines don't follow the property lines right here. And he's setting traps. Lots of traps, for raccoon, all along the stream-beds. We introduced him to Gunner, and asked about what kind of traps he was using and the possibility of Gunner or Kiki getting caught. He assured us he was using humane traps, no snares or toothed traps, etc - and he didn't think Gunner's foot would fit. He also says he'll be checking his traps daily.
Heh.
The Rotary event went well. About three inches of snow has accumulated in the three hours we've been at the event. We drive up the approach to the Castle gate, pop up the drive and park. I open my door - and I hear the sound of a panicked dog reverberating faintly, echoing down the hills and valleys, even over the howl of the wind.
Well, carp. I know where Gunner is. He's in a trap.
My stomach gets that empty feeling I always get before I have to go do something with high risk or visibility - either to or for me, or, in this case, finding Gunner before Something Bad happens.
[This is getting pretty long - the rest of the story is in the Flash Traffic/Extended Entry - complete with a Twist in the Plot]
Flash Traffic (extended entry) Follows �
Gunner's in a trap, and has been for hours, most likely. He's not the kind of puppy likely to be late for dinner like he was tonight. He's also probably in a trap along a creek that still has running water in it, so he may be standing/laying in cold water. He's still alive, so he's probably not immersed, but who knows how close to hypothermia he might be? I'm going to be searching for a black dog, on a dark night, along any one of a number of creek-beds full of shadows, in a blizzard, with howling winds. Oh, yay.
SWVBO gets out of the truck and hears the barking, too. "I'll get dressed and get the Ranger" she says. From the noise, I'm not sure that I've not heard more than one critter voice... "I'll get my boots on, grab a flashlight and the Vis and head out now." The Vis being our Polish 9mm Vis-35 made during the Nazi occupation - and a pistol which just fits me perfectly (that link is for you, Og), I simply can't miss with it, and don't want to come up on Gunner standing down some coyotes or somesuch and not have the tools I need to be able to deal with it. I don't feel like I have time to grab SWWBO's black rifle - the pistol is upstairs, mag in, the ORC is downstairs, sight not mounted, no filled magazines ready. SWWBO digs out the walkie-talkies, I turn 'em on... and the batteries are dead. Sigh. Note to self, don't put the charger on a switched outlet...
While SWWBO dons her arctic gear, I head out, down the road to where I can get under the fence. Did I mention the blizzard yet? The 20 mph wind-driven snow? At 9:30 PM? SWWBO is going to get the Ranger ATV and bring it down and she'll run the fences, looking and listening for the barking. No, I don't *know* it's Gunner yet, but I believe it is. So does SWWBO. The clock is ticking.
I get down the road to the fence where it crosses the stream at the culvert. If I can't find a place to get under the fence here, I'll just go through the culvert. That'll be nice on my slacks... Oh joy! There's a spot where I can slide the incredible bulk that is the Armorer under the wire. No, there is *no* way I'm going to try and get myself over the fence, which is nice, tough, rusty barbed wire.
I slide under the wire face-up - to better deal with the snags if my jacket gets caught. Heh. Too bad I didn't bring the rifle - I could have used it between me and the wire just like I learned in Basic... No problems, just about a cubic yard of snow up my trouser legs. Getting up, I brush myself off, and head off into the howling, snowy wilderness.
Gunner is still barking, more frenziedly if that's possible.
I'm on my neighbor's property, I'm not familiar with it. I discover that under all that snow... there's more ice-skimmed water than I realized... and not all of it will support the Armorer's bulk,as I learn the hard way. And a fat guy moving through 6 inches of snow, clambering up and down steep-sided stream-beds I find causes a fella to get warm, howling blizzard or no. And even though it's below freezing, the ground isn't frozen, so I'm sinking through the snow and down into the mud, especially when I cross a stream. Suction... sucks.
I discover that every time I call for Gunner, he quits barking, which makes tracking him difficult. No, there's no tracks in the snow - he's been trapped long enough that snow has covered everything. In order to keep him barking I quit calling, especially when I have to make a stream-branch choice. I get across a wide stream-bed when Gunner stops barking again - only this time, I've not called or anything. His barking has been getting hoarser and less loud, so I know he's starting to wear out.
I'm guessing I'm pretty close. Great!
I'm standing on a little mound where three streamlets come together. A hanging valley to my left, a smaller feeder straight ahead, and the main channel to my right. In the midst of a stand of cedars and elms, with lots of rocks that all have shadows of course. In fact, it's nothing but dim white snow and shadows. Well, that, and a 20 mph wind driving an icy snow and it was all uphill and I'm more than a little warm and out of breath, with the blood pounding in my ears. And I'm looking for a snow-covered black dog in a howling blizzard at 10:30PM.
So, making the assumption that Gunner has stopped barking because he sees me, I just stand there and start scanning. I'm hoping for shape recognition or movement. I start just scanning left and right, and then briefly study individual shadows - never looking directly at them - my center night vision is damaged from the years in general and the years in the desert specifically. I can get better detail by looking just off-center.
I call Gunner's name softly - he may not bark, but he usually wags his tail when you call his name, and start scanning for movement - and there it is, next to that shadowy downed limb, in the hanging valley - a shadow with a wagging tail.
I scramble up to the now-whimpering, tail-wagging shadow and get out the flashlight. Whew! No obvious blood or bone, and while he's close to the running water, he's not in it. I am. Dolt. The trap doesn't have teeth, but Gunner has been sitting with his right paw in the air, almost hanging from the trap, but not quite. He's clearly very tired, and every time I touch the trap, he whimpers in that way that cuts to the heart. Gritting my teeth, I say "Sorry, little dude, this is gonna hurt." and move the trap and his paw to where I can get the leverage I need to open the trap. It pops open easily and Gunner leaps away - and promptly gives out a pitiful yelp as he puts weight on the paw. I check the tag on the trap - it's Ryan's. We're going to have to have a chat.
But now, I have to get this puppy home. Did I mention the blizzard? The wind? Well, before, I was walking with the wind. Now, I get to go against the the wind. Into that icy snow. Sigh.
I start off, and look at Gunner to see if he can walk. He tries, about 5 steps, then just drops, rolls over, and exposes his belly and whines. Carp. I do *not* want to carry this 40-pound dog out of here in this blizzard, with all the streams and climbing up and down I had to do to get here.
So, I take off my jacket (hey, I'm fat, I've got a built-in down vest - and I'm almost overheated anyway - it feels good). I lay it down, put Gunner on it, and look for two small straight pieces of deadfall I can use to rig a travois-style drag. Hey, it's just a jacket. It cost more than Gunner did, being a shelter rescue puppy, but he's worth it.
Except the little weasel won't stay on it. I start off, he hangs for about 30 seconds, and rolls off, exposing his belly. We go through that about three times when I give up, and put my jacket back on and pick Gunner up.
He promptly wraps his tail around my face and starts licking me. And I start off the half-mile or so I have to go to get back to where SWWBO likely is. My breathing starts to get really labored, and Gunner's perceived tare weight increases with every step. At least I'm going downhill. Which is probably balanced by into the wind. Plus side, the wind holds me up, right?
I can see the lights of the Ranger, back about where I went under the fence. I stagger up to a cornerpost of the fence, and yell for SWWBO, and stand there, breath blowing like a sex crazed whale cavorting on the surface of the ocean. Without the fun. And nowhere near as cool looking. And Gunner? He's wagging his tail, watching it all.
SWWBO comes up to the fence from the other side to take Gunner. I pass him off to her, and just stand there, waiting for the oxygen levels in my blood to stabilize. SWWBO takes two steps, and promptly steps into a hole, dumping Gunner and herself. And her "Farmer Susie In Winter" clothes are so thick, she's having trouble getting up. I head for the place where I can shimmy under the wire. Heh. Last time I shimmied under wire like that was at Fort McClellan, 29 years ago. Once under I get up and head for SWWBO. She says "Just take Gunner and put him in the Ranger, I'll get up and get over there." "Yes'm."
I pick up Mr. Pathetic Puppy, and trudge over to the Ranger, putting him on the bench seat and turn to head back for SWWBO. SWWBO, being convinced I'm about to have a heart attack, waves me off. "Just stay there, I can do this!" I go sit down. She gets up, takes a step, and steps on a hidden rock and dumps again. She eventually makes it the Ranger and we drive the 400 meters to the Castle. I pick up Gunner, and take him to the bedroom, where he gets put down on the just-changed bed. No obvious blood, no bone splinters, no sense of a green stick or other fracture - looks like the trap worked as advertised. I stand up, reach into my pocket for the pistol.
Ohbloodyhell. No pistol.
And it's been snowing the entire time. Cursing, I trudge out to the Ranger and drive slowly down the road, looking for Vis-shaped lumps in the road. I'm hoping the pistol is where I went under the fence - much beyond that, it was going to be a metal-detecting job, and while I have a WWII mine detector, the batteries are dead... and they weren't as good as modern metal detectors are. Wait - what's that? Heh. Wing from a dead bird. I motor on...
I get to the place where I went under the fence, and park the Ranger to illuminate the area. Advantage of being on the end of a dead end road - I wasn't too worried about blocking the road. Standing to the side, with the Ranger providing a low, shadow-producing illumination... I spot a Vis-shaped lump. And have to go back under the fence. But it's the pistol. Which, of course, means I have to go *back* under the fence.
To wrap this up, I get back to the Castle, check on Gunner He's whiny and tired, but fine. We gave him some ibuprofen and he went to sleep on SWWBO's pillows.
And I went downstairs to drop the magazine, clear the pistol, disassemble the pistol and unload and disassemble the magazine... and clean and lube the pistol, making sure that I use moisture-displacing cleaners and lubricant. Reassemble everything, function-test, slap the magazine in and head upstairs.
I make two margaritas and SWWBO and I just sit there in bed. I am sore and very tired, coming face to face with just how degraded I've become in the years since I retired. It was all I could do to get Gunner and get him home - total distance traveled, probably about a mile. Sure, in mud, over rocks and through snow in a howling blizzard - but hey, those were the conditions in the Ardennes and the Chosin Reservoir.
If they recall me - I'm gonna hafta be a fobbit.
� Secure this line!
Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �
You wanna get a holster for that Radom, matey- taint no pocket pistol! Glad it all turned out well...
by Neffi on January 20, 2008 1:58 PM
Yeah, I figure a shoulder-rig.
by
John of Argghhh! on January 20, 2008 3:12 PM
Maybe we add a stationary bike to the decor?(bounces off of wall from the backhanded slap)
I look at it this way. Most people would've simply quit and then cried the next day. Even down a few pegs you've got a step up on most people. Even Beowulf slowed down a tad, John.
by
ry on January 20, 2008 3:39 PM
The U.S. .45 tanker rig would work, and they're fairly inexpensive too. I'd send you mine but it has memories...
by Neffi on January 20, 2008 3:41 PM
This is the first sane story I have read in a week of ... well, let's call it sound and fury. I hope that chat with Ryan goes well.
by
Flea on January 20, 2008 3:51 PM
Ya need to update us on how the chat goes and....I have to say it...maybe this could be an incentive to start working on your wellness? Nothing retahhhhded but maybe some lifestyle changes to keep you around a long, healthy time so you can keep us up to speed on your adventures and maybe even go get that pooch next time he gets loose.
by
P_G_S on January 20, 2008 4:23 PM
GOod deal. Glad you found the dog (and the gun).
Your mention of Chosin brings to mind my father-in-law, about whom I'm writing a piece for TGR. I recently confirmed what I had suspected before. He not only was in the 2nd wave of the amphib invasion of Okinawa, and not only spent 2 solid years in the Antarctica with time at the south pole as corpsman to the SeaBees building the first-ever station there, but he also spent some time as the Corpsman to 1st Plt, I Co, 3rd Bn, 7th Regt, 1st Marine Div all through the Chosin campaign. From his stories (we've got him on tape) and what I've been able to piece together so far, I think he was on Heartbreak Ridge too, but I need to do some more research. I've also got some pics of him at the time, as well as pics of his WWII and South Pole time which I will post to TGR. Interestingly, it was his Korea time that got him the job on Byrd's staff working medical issues in preparation for the first Operation Deep Freeze (56/57). Not that that has anything to do with your adventures of course, but I thought you might find it interesting.
Anyway, I'm glad you made it ok, and that the dog came out not really worse for the wear.
V/R
by
SangerM on January 20, 2008 4:38 PM
So glad it all worked out!
by
FbL on January 20, 2008 4:40 PM
Sorry Boss, for being delerict. Hence fourth, the Sand Pebbles Crew has been tasked to keep fur trappers on the outer ring of the Moat.
The Castle is trully a labor of love. Being entrusted with the welfare of so many critters requires it to be so.
by Boquisucio on January 20, 2008 5:43 PM
You did good. We've got to get that fat off our bellies before it kills us.
by
Doc on January 20, 2008 8:20 PM
I'm not sure I'd go through that for one of the kids!
Glad you are all ok.
by
Maggie on January 20, 2008 8:42 PM
Geez, reading these comments you guys must think I'm fat and outta shape, eh?
That 70% disability rating gets in the way of a vigorous PT program, I admit.
And Maggie, the furred members of the family are... family. I could no more not do that for them than I would for Andy or SWWBO.
Ohell, and you. Heck, Cliff, too. I'd just rag on Cliff in ways I didn't rag on Gunner.
by
John of Argghhh!!! on January 20, 2008 8:44 PM
Well you might not be as fit as mallee bull but you managed ok anyway. You're going to have to do something about the trapping.
by
Trias on January 20, 2008 9:39 PM
With Cliff the Radom incident could have had a different ending... ADs happen alla time...
(ahem)
(cough)
by Neffi on January 20, 2008 10:38 PM
John,
Unfortunately age, arthur & his 4 ritus brothers, and cold weather don't go well together. My hands are about gone in warm weather as it is. Recent back sugery doesn't help a bit. This past Friday I had the unfortunate task of repairing a busted PVC riser to a faucet in the mud @ 30 deg. At least it wasn't howling with snow. I'm glad you saved the dog and he only weighed 40 lbs. The tractor with the front end loader to carry him back would have been a good choice. Also glad you & SWWBO didn't fall over from cold weather exhaustion. Ticker attacks are known to be higher when old geezers are shoveling snow.
Another note: target practice off the porch with the potential of 60 neighbors (nesters wanting their piece of the country living while bringing city anti-gun nonsense with them) is going to be a chalenge. Break them in early on to the noise. Preferrably when they are looking. I used to do that with the spray plane about 6AM when there was a potential for nesters. They either backed out or were good neighbors.
As far as I'm concerned trapping just ain't humane. I had a part time neighbor beat my son's Lab to death and stabbed our for real crossbred 200 lb. pet sheepdog in the neck to the bone with a T-Bar fence post. Couldn't do anything about it under the particular circumstances. Took a month of twice daily doctoring for the wound to close up. Takes a sorry sucker to mistreat a four legged pet when it just ain't necessary.
by AgPilot60 on January 21, 2008 2:42 AM
Sounds like a chilling experience.
It almost puts me in the mood to go watch Jeremiah Johnson again, except for that Redford Dolt who plays him.
by
jim b on January 21, 2008 11:05 AM
I'm glad you found him and none of you came to long-term harm! Our critters are our children, I concur - I would do 'zactly what you did. Except I'm not sure I could heft a full-sized dog!
by
Barb on January 21, 2008 11:08 AM
Neffi - nope. Not gonna have any AD's tied to my name.
by
John of Argghhh! on January 21, 2008 12:02 PM
It sounds like a run in with Murphy and all of his laws. I am glad you over came him.
Btw, you are getting pretty good at writing (“sex crazed whale cavorting on the surface of the ocean. Without the fun”).
by
Ledger on January 21, 2008 3:31 PM
Nice..........I just finished writing that you were my favorite in the comments to this post. Then I come down here and find myself lumped in with Cliff! Oh the pain!
[Well, yeah, but I was *nicer* to you than I was to Cliff!!]
by
Maggie on January 21, 2008 6:46 PM
Well done, Sir, well done.
by embycil on January 21, 2008 9:33 PM
What you need is a swandri. Not one of them cheapass Chinese knock-offs but NZ finest sheep based product outside kiwi-aussie jokes.
by Murray on January 22, 2008 3:06 PM
Good grief, sir. I wish I lived closer than an hour away. I have several years of critter wrangling credentials (fur kind, not the Law Dog kind). Including helping to deliver a calf in the middle of the night by flashlight, though not (thank the fates) in a blizzard!
Good on you for the rescue. (and a snap top holster for the pistol maybe?)
by Karla (threadbdnr) on January 22, 2008 5:19 PM
In 97, it took me about 20 minutes to get a rope around a dog that went through the ice on the canal and haul him out.
Got *my* old guy workout dragging 180 pounds of exhausted Pennsy Black Lab out of a hole, across ten feet of marginal ice (the guy holding the rope around *me* dropped it twice when the ice cracking scared him) and up the canal bank.
The two cops watching from the towpath remembered blankets for the dog (he spent the next 12 hours sleeping in front of a space heater cranked up to 95F), who was reunited with his owner the next day. Idiot never realized his pooch was gone until the ACO called him.
by
BillT on January 22, 2008 9:10 PM
� Dismissed, Soldier!
For John, Beth, and Shadow
Every good trooper deserves to go out in style. I don't imagine John and Beth feel much like talking, but please feel free to leave your respects in the comments section. They'll read them when they feel up to it.
Family is family :)
I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren't certain we knew better. They fight for honor at the first challenge, make love with no moral restraint, and they do not for all their marvelous instincts appear to know about death. Being such wonderfully uncomplicated beings, they need us to do their worrying.
~George Bird Evans
The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too.
- Samuel Butler
The greatest love is a mother's;
Then comes a dog's,
Then comes a sweetheart's.
(20th century). Polish Proverb
"To his dog, every man is King;
hence the constant popularity of dogs."
- Aldous Huxley
"If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons."
- James Thurber
Labradors [are] lousy watchdogs. They usually bark when there is a stranger about, but it is an expression of unmitigated joy at the chance to meet somebody new, not a warning.
~Norman Strung
"Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend:
and inside a dog, it's too dark to read."
- Groucho Marx
"If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience."
- Woodrow Wilson
"If you take a dog which is starving and feed him and make him prosperous, that dog will not bite you. This is the primary difference between a dog and a man."
- Mark Twain
Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really.
~Agnes Sligh Turnbull
Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �
Your work and relationships reflect how you would like the rest of the world to perceive you.
Your children reflect who you really are.
Your dog's eyes reflect who you can be...
by
cw4(ret)billt on September 18, 2006 4:15 PM
If our beagle, Molly, were here, she'd give him a royal sendoff.
No one made "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO's" like she did.
by
Cassandra on September 18, 2006 4:16 PM
I've never forgotten when we lived in soCal and I was working so many hours, and then going to school at night. It never ceased to amaze me the way our two dogs would line up in front of the back door when I got home at 11 pm at night. There they would be, just sitting there quietly, tails thumping in concert. The whole rest of the house was asleep, but I used to think that was the most wonderful sight a tired person could ever see at the end of a long, long work day.
by
Cassandra on September 18, 2006 4:19 PM
Asthma doesn t seem to bother me any more unless I'm around cigars or dogs.
The thing that would bother me most would be a dog smoking a cigar.
- Steve Allen
by
Cassandra on September 18, 2006 4:29 PM
Good job Cassandra.
by
Maggie on September 18, 2006 5:22 PM
The reason dogs have so many friends is because they wag their tails instead of their tongues. - Unknown
There is no faith which has never yet been broken, except that of a truly faithful dog. - Konrad Z. Lorenz
Thanks, Cassie.
by
John of Argghhh! on September 18, 2006 5:31 PM
Shadow will be playing with our Theodore, I wonder if they will be doing some doggie blogging.
by
Wild Thing on September 18, 2006 6:26 PM
"No one appreciates the very special genius
of your conversation as the dog does."
-- Christopher Morley
by
Wild Thing on September 18, 2006 6:28 PM
We had three St.Bernards at the same time. It was kind of like living with the 3 bears. Each one had their own unique personality. At that time we lived in a place called Topanda just up the canyon from the coast near Santa Monica, Calif.
There was a park nearby and we would get visitors from the park that would manage to come onto our lawn.
One night we heard barking and went out to see what it was. By the time we got outside, the three St. Bernards had stopped barking and were sitting and standing among 4 deer. The yard was a big country country and we had put an extra water bucket by the fence for our dogs. The deer were drinking from a water bucket as our 3 dogs watched them patiently. We kept a distance to see what would happen.
When the deer finished, they just stayed there and our dogs laid down as if to say. OK this is our place but you are welcome....good water isn't it.
The deer after that would visit often, late in the evenings. And our dogs would always go out to greet them.
It came to be just one of many adventures of our children of the fur.
by
Wild Thing on September 18, 2006 6:45 PM
John,
Please accept my condolences. It always sucks to lose a cherished pet, often as much as it hurts to lose a family member or good friend because that's really what they are ... friends and family.
His temporal suffering has ended and he has crossed over, but he and the rest of the Guard will be there waiting for you on the other side, when it's your turn to be fetched.
by fdcol63 on September 18, 2006 8:45 PM
"Cats are poetry in motion. Dogs are gibberish in high gear." -- from my collection of Nancy Lebowitz buttons.
And everybody needs a little gibberish every now and then.
Dogs definitely add joy and energy to life. Life's more enjoyable with them around. Less enjoyable when they leave, as they must ... but on the whole, the balance is definitely positive.
by wolfwalker on September 18, 2006 9:05 PM
Thanks for putting this up, Cassandra.
It's been a long time since I've lost a pet, but I do remember the sense of loss. It's amazing how empty the house is with one less furry friend. This has been a bad year for you two. I hope things turn around soon.
by AFSister on September 18, 2006 9:26 PM
No explanation is available for the bond between man and dog and none is needed; our world is much better because of it. I have three snoozing on the floor, two more upstairs with the bride, and two sniffing the air outside as I write. Samantha was a chocolate Lab the same age as Shadow and my roommate when I was single. She had cancer as well and waited at her favorite spot by the back fence in January, laying stoically in the sun until I got home from work. I spoke to her and the others and told her I'd be right back with a cookie, she raised her head and wagged her tail. When I returned she was gone. The others didn't know what to do and neither did I.
Woodrow Wilson's quote is apt as are the others, but I don't imagine they help with the loss so much. The best we can hope for you is that you know you did the right thing, and that your dog-buddy understands that you were there for him, taking care of him and making the only decision you could. Your life was made better because of your best buddy, and you will make another dog's life better soon. Once you've lived with a pack you can't really ever be a solitary soul.
Dan Patterson
Arrogant Infidel
by
Dan Patterson on September 18, 2006 9:52 PM
"If dogs don't go to heaven, then I want to go where they go" ~ Unknown.
Buried my best friend Gus (Brittney, phesant dog extrordinaire, habitual sniffer of crotches) about a year ago. Not a day goes by I don't miss him. You have my deepest sympathy.
by
dave fincher on September 18, 2006 10:09 PM
Occasions like this are one of the reasons I'm afraid to, and probably shouldn't, have a dog. I've lost a bunch of kitties over the years, but consoled myself with the thought that they were free citizens, and had the right to live free and die free.
It's different with dogs. I do think we co-evolved together. Yer dog really counts on you, and trusts you, and when he leaves before you do, and you can't do nuthin about it but ease his pain a bit, well, dang. Concentrates the mind, and all that.
Just dang.
My most heartfelt sympathies to all in the Donovan household, whatever their degree of furriness.
by
Justthisguy on September 18, 2006 10:55 PM
I'm a cat person, but I love dogs too. Grew up with a Dachshund. This summer I had to put down my 20 year old cat. Toughest thing I've ever done, emotionally, bar none. I still weep at the thought of losing that friend to throat cancer. I understand what you are going through, John. God bless you and your memories of Shadow.
by
Mike47 on September 19, 2006 10:12 AM
We just lost my wife's 19 year old cat, Peaches. It hurts more than I thought possible. I pray that all our fuzzy friends are playing together in fields of gold and green, awaiting our arrival. I'll tell Peaches to be on the lookout for your Shadow.
by
Tim on September 19, 2006 10:18 AM
Two things - after being separated from my wife for four plus years, and talk of reconciliation began, I told her not to ask me or our daughters to choose between her and our new dog - she wouldn't like the outcome. That said, she has really come around, and has accepted Amos as a true part of the family. 2)I used to sit around playing my guitar and drinking beer - when I thought the time was right, I'd make grown men cry. No one I know who has ever owned and lost a dog can sit through the playing of "Old Shep" and keep a dry eye. If you've never had the privilege and your heart can take the pain, google Old Shep and listen to the song. Elvis did it best. In the words of our contemporary philosophers - "all dogs go to heaven." Amen.
by
Mike L on September 19, 2006 1:28 PM
Always welcoming always ready. You have indeed lost a good friend.
by
Trias on September 19, 2006 1:36 PM
I was so sorry to see you post yesterday. I went through this just last January.
Your Shadow will be waiting for you. I have to believe that all the best things of this mortal earth are preserved in heaven. Our dogs are certainly one of the best parts.
by karla (threadbndr) on September 19, 2006 2:23 PM
take some small measure of comfort in knowing that he shall surely be waiting there on the porch for you when you arrive there yourself...
by
MajMike on September 19, 2006 3:15 PM
The little ones we've lost don't go to Heaven - they are Heaven.
The pain we feel at their loss is but an echo of the purity of their love.
by KCSteve on September 19, 2006 3:46 PM
The loss of a beloved animal is hard. I've lost two cats the last 4 years: my precious Spazzy and Fluffy. As tim said, hopefully all of our fuzzy friends are playing together in heaven.
by
seawitch on September 19, 2006 9:15 PM
{{Hugs}} John.
Sending prayers your way. I know that Shadow had a happy life and was well loved.
by
Janette on September 20, 2006 11:28 AM
I believe that all pets go to heaven, but dogs are a special case. They ask so little and give so much. John, Shadow is healed of all hurt.
He is happy. I also believe that pets will be part of the escort to the other side. After all, they are family.
I know someone who is most likely helping in that
Animal Heaven, welcoming them and showing them where their Happy Hunting Ground is. Shadow is chasing squirrels (the tree rats were put there for PT and for the cats to practice hunting).
You will see him again.
(((((((((John and Beth))))))))
by Cricket on September 20, 2006 8:48 PM
� Dismissed, Soldier!
by
Cassandra
on
Sep 18, 2006
Fare thee well Shadow, thou good and faithful friend...
If you're reading this, it's because Shadow has taken his last car ride, and has joined the Pack Invisible.
He's really not ready to go, but it's time. A great heart, being squeezed to death by lung cancer. Dammit dammit dammit.
Now is the time at Castle Argghhh! when we dance sing a soul to the Great Hunting Ground and Tennis Ball Chasing Facility.
Fare thee well, thou good and faithful friend.
Great farkin' gobs of spittle, I *hate* entropy.
But Lord knows, you'll have company. Ninja, Gabby, Sebastian, Little Guy, Mickey, and Whiskey. You guys come pick me up at Piddler's Green, 'kay? The last of the original Exterior Guard (Kansas Contingent) has passed and my world is smaller, greyer, and bleaker today.
Entropy has been rough on the Exterior Guard. From a high of 5, we allowed nature to reduce the force by attrition, hard as that was. Now we're having trouble manning the force. Our new recruit, Kiki, the brown yellow lab/bloodhound mix in the middle, has been with us about two months, and now we're back to two. Whodathunk that Permanent Private Houdini (he who goes AWOL a lot, and can move more dirt than an ACE), would end up the Guard-mount Commander?
I know that to many of you, the Castle is overrun - and with 5 dogs and 8 cats, we were. But now the place just seems... empty.
I'm done here for the day, I think. Anything else goes up, you guys do it.
[The comments are disabled on purpose. I just am not in the mood for an email assault - not that I don't appreciate it - I've just got only so much stoicism per day available... and didn't want to get pummeled by a lot of comment emails. And Shadow doesn't mind - he never read the blog anyway. He was a SWWBO fan. Whiskey was the Castle reader...)
Flash Traffic (extended entry) Follows �
Dinah in Heaven, by Rudyard Kipling
"The Woman in His Life"
From "Limits and Renewals" (1932)
She did not know that she was dead,
But, when the pang was o'er,
Sat down to wait her Master's tread
Upon the Golden Floor,
With ears full-cock and anxious eye
Impatiently resigned;
But ignorant that Paradise
Did not admit her kind.
Persons with Haloes, Harps, and Wings
Assembled and reproved;
Or talked to her of Heavenly things,
But Dinah never moved.
There was one step along the Stair
That led to Heaven's Gate;
And, till she heard it, her affair
Was--she explained--to wait.
And she explained with flattened ear,
Bared lip and milky tooth--
Storming against Ithuriel's Spear
That only proved her truth!
Sudden--far down the Bridge of Ghosts
That anxious spirits clomb--
She caught that step in all the hosts,
And knew that he had come.
She left them wondering what to do,
But not a doubt had she.
Swifter than her own squeal she flew
Across the Glassy Sea;
Flushing the Cherubs every where,
And skidding as she ran,
She refuged under Peter's Chair
And waited for her man.
. . . . . . .
There spoke a Spirit out of the press,
'Said:--"Have you any here
That saved a fool from drunkenness,
And a coward from his fear?
"That turned a soul from dark to day
When other help was vain;
That snatched it from Wanhope and made
A cur a man again?"
"Enter and look," said Peter then,
And set The Gate ajar.
"If know aught of women and men
I trow she is not far."
"Neither by virtue, speech nor art
Nor hope of grace to win;
But godless innocence of heart
That never heard of sin:
"Neither by beauty nor belief
Nor white example shown.
Something a wanton--more a thief--
But--most of all--mine own."
"Enter and look," said Peter then,
"And send you well to speed;
But, for all that I know of women and men
Your riddle is hard to read."
Then flew Dinah from under the Chair,
Into his arms she flew--
And licked his face from chin to hair
And Peter passed them through!
That only helps a little. But it helps.
� Secure this line!
Winning Work - losing friends
It has been an ugly two weeks.
One of the reasons for slackness in posting.
The contract I am working on ends soon. The client put out the Request For Proposal and its associated Performance Work Statement...
Which means that in addition to keeping up with the client work that pays the bills, we had to take the time to convince the client that they *really-really-really* don't mind the excessive compensation we get and *really-really-really* like the quality and quantity of brain-sweat we produce, and convince them to continue spending millions for our brilliance for 5 more years. All while quietly and indirectly dissing those hosers who are competing for the work (not a chance, bubbas!).
Let's just say it's ugly. The client writes the RFP by committee, so in many respects it resembles the proverbial horse-designed-by-committee... the camel.
We have no choice but to write the proposal by committee... only it really has to be a horse.
Ugly ugly ugly. Especially with a lot of FNGs on the prop-writing team. Many Big Defense Companies maintain prop-writing teams. We don't. We're privately held, so that kind of overhead comes directly out of our pockets, not the investors, and we're exactly the greedy-guts Beltway Bandits the anti-globalist protesters think we are.
We have a process to do this... but like all good processes, we don't always follow it - and immediately remember why we should.
Our prop manager neglected to account for all the FNGs, and many of us experienced writers had new roles in addition to our writing assignments (I had compliance).
And boy did we pay the price for skipping some of the preparatory steps, painful as those would have been. Would have saved us much grief later when we finally came to understand the structural/organizational flaws in the RFP that were going to make the prop a real pain to write coherently, yet follow the form and pattern the client has come to expect over the years.
We set a GICOD, a Good Idea Cut-Off Date. Intended to cut off the jaw-jaw and get the thing written. After you pass the GICOD, no new ideas are to be floated. At least not by munchkins. There comes a point when you just have to sit down and write.
I detest the Good Idea Fairy. Especially when he wakes up and waves his magic wand two days and thousands of words *after* the GICOD. I especially hate it when he's senior enough to ignore the GICOD. But, it is balanced by the fact that he was *right*.
Good thing SWWBO has been on the road, as I haven't been home much more than she has.
The Interior and Exterior Guard have not had the tender loving attention that they desire and rate.
The Exterior Guard is okay with that. A treat, tummy rub, pat on the head and they're cool.
The Interior Guard... well, Praetorianism raised its ugly head there.
The Interior Guard has been particularly restive, as their very-precisely-determined mess schedule has *not* been adhered to.
And, as SWWBO has been gone and I've been doing the procuration of comestibles... well, suffice it to say that quality has not been up to snuff.
And since we're all dieting, quantity has been right out.
And quality worship-by-Armorer has been lacking.
It all came to a head last night.
In the Flash Traffic/Extended Entry, you can see what I was greeted by when I came home.
Flash Traffic (extended entry) Follows �
I swear I don't know how they opened the can of AK ammo. The loose stuff is in the safe. And I trained them better than that. I trained them to aim, not just hose things off in a general direction like some ragamuffin jihadi.
H/t Captain H for the pic.
I *do* think it's a good prop. Let's hope the client jumps on the Bus to Abilene with us!
In a good way, of course! No Paradoxos here!
� Secure this line!
Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �
Never forget, Boss; you work for N1 first.
by Boquisucio on September 22, 2005 10:25 AM
LMAO! Great stuff, John.
I'm glad to hear work has settled down and you are happy with the proposal. Best of luck on that front!
by
Fuzzybear Lioness on September 22, 2005 11:05 AM
huh. I call Photoshop! Everybody knows cats prefer sniper rifles. Dogs, now -- dogs would do the spray 'n pray. No firing accuracy at all.
by
Bad Cat Robot on September 22, 2005 11:26 AM
Very true, BCR. We felines are much more sophisticated and controlled about things. :D
by
Fuzzybear Lioness on September 22, 2005 11:34 AM
Nope - absolute truth in that pic...
Gandalf (so-named well before the movies came out, thank-you-very-much) occasionally channels Zondar, the spirit of a Homotherium who lived in the area during the last ice age.
Zondar would do that. He's not known for patience.
Zondar, who is very very straight, really hates the genus name, btw.
by
John of Argghhh! on September 22, 2005 11:37 AM
At least they didn't hit anything or you wouldn't be here to tell the tale and take the pic.
LOL.
Love beasties.
by Cricket on September 22, 2005 11:49 AM
Invalid assumption, Cricket. This is a family with 8 total Purple Hearts in 3 generations but no fatalities.
Lots of scars, though. Lots of scars.
by
John of Argghhh! on September 22, 2005 11:53 AM
'Lots of scars, though. Lots of scars.' But how many are self inflicted, kemosabe?(Running away! Incomming!)
by ry on September 22, 2005 12:41 PM
Don't run, Ry. You'll only die tired.
by
John of Argghhh! on September 22, 2005 1:04 PM
Being involved with consulting services procurement from the buying end that post was a bit of an education and a confirmation of suspicions.
by
Alan on September 22, 2005 3:21 PM
[content deleted because I realized what a gi-normous brain fart the comment represented... ed.]
by
John of Argghhh! on September 22, 2005 3:25 PM
haha , Dang the best lil ol smokey could operate was the compound bow. Silent but deadly.
When she is older I suspect she will be waylaying me with a firefiled Trebuchet tho. She is a cat from a fire pit.
Incoming!!
by
MorningSun on September 22, 2005 4:15 PM
My cats must just be unusual. One is FAR to sweet to pull anything violent on her kind mistress. The other? Well, I have never heard from any other creature the kinds of crying, screaming, spitting, hissing sounds that tiny ball of fluff can make. She'd do it in a heartbeat... if only she could figure out which end the fire comes out of. LOL!
by
Fuzzybear Lioness on September 22, 2005 5:50 PM
Maybe the fireball in the background has *something* to do with it. Something obviously did just get on kitty's last nerve.
by Justthisguy on September 22, 2005 7:34 PM
Kitty is just increasing the size and quality of her honor guard.
by bc on September 22, 2005 7:45 PM
There's an obscure antiquarian reference!
by
John of Argghhh! on September 22, 2005 7:47 PM
Cats with automatic weapons... the ultimate worst case scenario.
Have a look in yer archives, John- I warned you about this...
Dam' good thing that 'scaled' AK was about .076mm or there'd bin 9 Purple Hearts in the family.
by Neffi on September 22, 2005 7:50 PM
What I wrote, above, has now percolated through my aged, distracted brain. I think of the times when I and my guys were young, and dumb, and full of arrive. Sometimes, after eating a meal with lots of beans in it, we would sit around, and drink too much, and talk too much, and then somebody would flick the Bic and ignite the flatus.
JoA, have you been annoying the kitties with stinky flames?
by Justthisguy on September 22, 2005 9:49 PM
Hmmm, that sure looks like Annie with that thing - maybe we should be calling her Annie Oakley instead of Little Orphan Annie.
by
Beth on September 22, 2005 10:17 PM
No, JTG, that would be my buddy Mike.
by
John of Argghhh! on September 22, 2005 10:29 PM
Hey, I can always hope you transpose a range figure wrong, John. The rock, she no gonna help me on this one.
This whole Postal Cat thing is why I, along with Jonah, am a dog man.
Dogs--man's best friend.
Cats--felines wondering if they can get away with eating their owners.
by ry on September 22, 2005 11:50 PM
� Dismissed, Soldier!
by
John
on
Sep 22, 2005
�
dave's not here | David Earney links with:
Travels in the Blogosphere
�
ROFASix links with:
Writing a Proposal for LUH
>>hzzz. afterthought...
>>hzzz. name muffy not be post in a while. longtime hyumun denizens and pretty-lady denizennes know bout scrupl. maybe youngers and visitors do not.
go pretty barb-lady pless if forget or not know. pretty barb-lady first to know all bout scrupl when talk to name scout. short read. has to be -- scrupl have short attention span...
life be tough teacher. gives test first, then lesson. hurricane test be hard on hyumuns and lesson be painful. test be harder on others, who not know there be lesson to follow.
only know test.
only know hyumuns left them, did not know why. only know brother and sister and other left them, did not know why.
did not know water, too, had killing bite.
know now
dog-thing, cat-thing be pets, not be told bout evacuate. not be taken off roof by helicopter, be taken in boat.
sometimes. when there be room. small life-sparks, pulled from water.
little afterthoughts.
dog-thing, cat-thing, even horse-thing once be pets, now be lost. now be scrupl. some hyumuns find, bring dry pless, like same for hyumuns. like same for hyumuns, food dish, water bowl soon empty. hyumuns be evacuate to nother dry pless, many dry pless, where now food dish and water bowl full.
maybe scrupl be evacuate later. maybe not.
little afterthoughts.
this be called bleg. not be ask for much because not need much. hyumuns, help, plizz?
not be ask that hyumuns send to help scrupl instead of to help hyumuns, just small extra for help scrupl. something for keep small life-sparks alive...
plizz -- something?
Feel free to swipe these graphics and use them yourself.
Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �
Done. I am praying for the poor animals that bonehead owners locked in their houses thinking they'd be back. The dead will be more than humans, but will have been loved none the less.
Let's hope that the rescuers going house to house leave the doors open when they are done.
by
kat-missouri on September 5, 2005 12:22 AM
Oh dear, Muffy. Such a sweet post; you made me get all misty. I will send a little something to help keep the "small life-sparks" alive.
by
FbL on September 5, 2005 1:02 AM
*hugs name muffy because own scrup'l, name sparky, isn't here*
I know a lot of hy'umuns stayed behind so their dog-things and cat-things wouldn't become scrup'l. But it hurts my heart to think how many didn't and didn't take their animals with them.
I'll do what I can.
by Rose B. on September 5, 2005 2:15 AM
The local news (Denver) carried a story Thursday night about a group headed for the coast with scrup'l supplies- they especially needed pet-carriers of all sizes and whatever food people could donate.
I dragged out my cat-carrier and then went by Wally World to get some kibble Friday...
The drop-off point was the Denver Dumb Friends League. And what a scene that was!!
The lawn was literally covered with carriers- new and used- and workers were dashing about trying to organize enormous stacks of canned and dry food. Bags, boxes, and flats of it- and more coming by the minute...
And bowls- a lady and her husband had two large boxes of plastic pet-food bowls (several hundred, I would guess) that "they didn't need anymore"- that's what she said- and all were brand-new with the bar-codes still on 'em, heh.
Cars, trucks, SUVs- a stream of them. I helped for a while with traffic control and we got it organized fairly well. Then I spent an hour with some others, taking apart the carriers and nesting the same sizes together... again, several hundred of them.
People kept coming and dropping off- food, carriers, bowls, boxes of flea and tick powder and collars- and collars and leashes, too.
Almost all of it brand-new, straight from the store.
When I had to leave, donations had slowed but were still coming in.
The director of the DDFL was kinda at wits end- she and several friends had planned to drive the stuff down on Saturday, but hadn't anticipated THIS sheer volume...
I understand that a call to a manager type at Conway Western Express from one of the board members brought a semi, which departed early Saturday AM for the coast- no charge (can't confirm that but I believe it).
Almost none of this (beyond the initial story Thursday night) made the news.
Good thing I was on the ball- the worthless huy'man I allow to share my den just sat around drinking cheap beer and wondering how the Broncos will fare this season...
Please help where and how you can...
Squeaky out.
by Squeaky the Kalico Kitty on September 5, 2005 11:32 AM
Wow- what are you feeding Ninja?! Sardine milkshakes and herring dumplings?? That is one ummm, 'big' kitty...
by Neffi on September 5, 2005 3:52 PM
Ninja, like all the furry ones, is a rescue. One of Beth's co-workers had a boyfriend move in. Boyfriend had a parrot. So, cat which had lived with this guy for 12 years... was going to be put in a shelter or worse.
When he arrived, his belly dragged low enough he dusted the wood floors.
That is an 8 pound lighter Ninja.
We took him in. And he appreciated it, even if he did have to compete with 6 other cats at that point. He was a wonderful night-purrer.
He's no longer with us, being the point man in the Castle Advance Party in Heaven, sent along some 6 years ago. He's got plenty of company now though... Gabby, Mickey, Sebastian, and Little Guy.
Sniff.
by
John of Argghhh! on September 5, 2005 4:34 PM
...hopefully he can rub noses with Spike- my old cat, he was with me through thick and thin for 19 1/2 years. I lost him last December... he'd been deaf the last coupla years but ate well and got his skinny butt around OK. I was gonna take him for 'the shot'if he stopped eating but (Gott sei Dank) he spared me that by slipping away quietly in the night; on my bed where he belonged.
He was a 'free kittens to good homes' pick-up; there will be more kitties in my life but never again one like that furry little shitbird.
by Neffi on September 5, 2005 5:42 PM
Muffy is a wise scrup'l ... "test first, then lesson" indeed. I've been traveling, and just heard the news that people had been given opportunities to leave - but their pets could not go with them.
I don't know specifics yet, but that made me weep - and then to read Muffy's on top of that ... *sniff* My furball is my only child, unless you count the Hubster ... I wouldn't leave.
by
Barb on September 5, 2005 11:29 PM
Donation made... must keep scruple life-sparks lit. Thanks Muffy- keep up the good work!
by
Were-Kitty on September 6, 2005 9:58 AM
Thanx Muff - you speaks the truths. If only life would teach you the lesson first & then the exam...
by Boquisucio on September 6, 2005 11:25 AM
Thanks for the reminder that some of the family members impacted by Katrina have 4 legs. (Made my donation to the LSU Vet School's Hurricane Katrina animal shelter today.)
by
karen on September 6, 2005 2:00 PM
I wrote about leaving my pets if I were in New Orleans on ROFASix. Bottom line is my pets are my family, we share the same fate. I would be one of those they would have to ferret out and take my gun from my dead fingers before I would obey a mandatory evacuation order - without my kids.
by
NOTR on September 7, 2005 12:27 AM
I wrote about leaving my pets if I were in New Orleans on ROFASix. Bottom line is my pets are my family, we share the same fate. I would be one of those they would have to ferret out and take my gun from my dead fingers before I would obey a mandatory evacuation order - without my kids.
by
NOTR on September 7, 2005 12:27 AM
� Dismissed, Soldier!
by
name muffy
on
Sep 05, 2005
�
Righty in a Lefty State links with:
"Bless the beasts and the children ..."
�
Mostly Cajun, All American and Opinionated links with:
The others hurt in the hurricane
�
The Gun Line links with:
Woobies...
�
NIF links with:
Just another today
Goodbye Mickey. I'm gonna miss ya sweetie
Pardon my self-absorbed Narcissism right now, but good god, sometimes entropy really sucks.
Mickey just died in my arms. I hate it when that happens. But I guess not as much as I'd have hated taking her for her last vet visit tomorrow. But I sure wish the damn puppy would quit playing with his squeaky-toy right now.
Goodbye, sweetie. When ya wake up, Ninja, Gabby, Sebastian and Little Guy will be waiting.
Entropy sucks.
Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �
My sympathies, John. She looks like a total sweetie. *hugs*
by
Dana on December 3, 2003 1:04 AM
Dinah in Heaven
by SDN on December 3, 2003 6:56 AM
ohmygod, John. I'm so sorry. :,(
Rest well, sweet Mickey.
by
pam on December 3, 2003 7:43 AM
I'm sorry John... there aren't any words but rest assured that others know the pain and we sympathize with you.
Sincerely,
Jennifer
by
Jennifer Martinez on December 3, 2003 8:34 AM
My sympathies. The loss of a pet is always hard.
by
SayUncle on December 3, 2003 8:41 AM
Condolences from an "owner" of a big dumb labrador. Mickey one was obviously a champ.
by
Greyhawk on December 3, 2003 8:53 AM
Well, we still have Shadow, our big goof lab, Whiskey, our "Jack Daniels" terrier/something, and Houdini, the new kid on the block. And there are still Little Girl (now Empress of the Herd with Mickey's passing), Gandalf, Cleo, Rest Stop, Barnacle, Meriwether, and Little Orphan Annie, the Hairball Gang. But we lost two puppies in 29 days. At least we should get a coupla year break before we do this again.
Thanks all. 8^)
by
John of Argghhh! on December 3, 2003 9:00 AM
{{{hugs}}} I am so sorry to read about poor Mickey.
by
Kate on December 3, 2003 9:03 AM
{moment of silence}
Max and Dooley have already welcomed Mickey to the big field of grass and no fences.
M was only three??????
by radtec on December 3, 2003 9:50 AM
A friend was visibly distraught one day. It turned out the night before had brought a dream where he was looking out the back door of his parent's house and there was his long lost dog from childhood. The dog was so happy to see him and they played catch and rolled around in the grass and it was a long sunny afternoon. He thought to himself, "This must be what heaven is like."
Quite right.
by
Ghost of a flea on December 3, 2003 10:13 AM
No. Mickey was 13 and a half. I just goofed the picture. Thanks - I still hadn't noticed it, probably because I just look at her. I'll fix it over lunch.
Sorry, Mick - didn't mean to cut a decade out of your life!
Update: There ya go, Mickey McBear - now it's your whole life. I'm sorry,sweetie.
by
John of Argghhh! on December 3, 2003 10:43 AM
Thank, Nicholas. I sure hope so. It's going to be very furry, however!
by
John of Argghhh! on December 3, 2003 10:44 AM
John, if it helps ease the pain at all, my daughter (Kayla, 16 months) wouldn't let me leave your page for about 10 minutes. Saw Mickey's picture and kept saying "Pup-pah, pup-pah, pup-pah, oof oof oof, pup-pah, oof oof." "Dog" is one of the few animals she recognizes reliably, and she's quite taken with yours.
by
Dana on December 3, 2003 8:09 PM
Sorry to hear about the loss, John. After this year I can sympathize.
by
Lummox JR on December 3, 2003 11:39 PM
Sympathies, my friend. I lost my best friend last year, and will likely lose my other too damn soon. I have often thought that the love of a dog is proof that there is some kind God out there who loves us. I discovered this shortly thereafter. Forgive me for posting it in it's entirety, but there is no more suitable epitaph. May it bring you some comfort, as it did me:
THE POWER OF THE DOG
Rudyard Kipling
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
But when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years that nature permits
Are closing in asthma or tumors or fits
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers, or loaded guns.
Then you will find--its your own affair
But--you've given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will
When the whimper of welcome is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You still discover how much you care
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We've sorrow enough in the natural way
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em the more do we grieve;
For when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short time loan is as bad as a long--
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
by Dan on December 3, 2003 11:57 PM
Damn, John. What can I say that'll help? Nothing at all.
Been there myself (who hasn't?) and it hurts. Really, REALLY bad.
Well, at least Mickey is in doggie Heaven now, and my Skeeter always has room for another playmate. Never met a stranger.
G-d Bless.
by
Emperor Misha I on December 4, 2003 8:31 AM
Hey everybody! Evidence that the Emperor reads his blogroll!
Thanks, Misha, appreciate it.
Thanks all of you!
by
John of Argghhh! on December 4, 2003 8:46 AM
I am really sorry to hear about Mickey. My old 14 year old Coco is up there waiting for her (and for my dog Puff, and eventually for me). New pup is the only way. Good luck to you!
by
Eric Scheie on December 4, 2003 10:17 PM
We have a new pup (see my Thanksgiving posts) and he was very good for Mickey. Not only did he give her company - he got her to play some before her cancer just slowed her down too much.
It was fun to watch.
by
John of Argghhh! on December 4, 2003 10:39 PM
I know you don't know me, but my heart is breaking for you. I, too, have about 20 animals, recently reduced to 19 thru one man's murderous ways. It was my goat and only one of many of my 'kids', but....damn.
Anybody who loves animals like you do is a kindred soul to me. Consider yerself blogrolled. And, give yer newest addition a tickle and a hug for me, would ya?
Rest in Peace, Mickey.
(Now, where did I leave the tissues?)
by
Stevie on December 5, 2003 3:51 PM
My deepest sympathies. Mickey looks like a beautiful girl. My Samwise (14 yrs old golden retriever) was waiting for her when she got up there.
by Mary on December 5, 2003 4:04 PM
Lot's of critter-lovin' bloggers and readers.
Thank you all very, very much!
by
John of Argghhh! on December 7, 2003 11:07 PM
� Dismissed, Soldier!
by
John
on
Dec 03, 2003
�
drowning at 2 feet sea level links with:
a real arrggghhh....
�
Straight White Guy links with:
Talisker
�
Random Fate links with:
Condolences for a loss
�
Electric Venom links with:
The Letter Of The Day Is O
�
Electric Venom links with:
The Letter Of The Day Is O
