BITES

photo from google

photo from google

photo from google

photo from google



photo from google

This is a Gallery of dogs who have bitten me. Bitten me seriously enough to require either being off work for a day or two or requiring a visit to the ER.

The first bite and one of the worst I got working for the Vet, where these things are considered part of the package, was a blonde cocker spaniel. It destroyed for all times any warm and cuddly feelings I might have for ANY cocker, as unfair as that might be.
This was a cocker known to bite, but I was new and they forgot to put the neon red WILL BITE sticker on his cage card. So when I was asked to bring the dog up, I simply opened his kennel door, reached in, and he bit me three times, in ascending order up my arm. None were gentle, none were warnings. These were full-blown dog bites.
My arm was the size of Popeye's for about a week. Doc washed everything out with betadine, bandaged me up with ointment, and my Dr put me on anti-biotics which of course gave me a raging yeast infection which was almost worst than the bite.
Eventually, this dog bit the groomer in the face, getting clear inside her cheek. That particular groomer groomed the dog, but she was out forever. Then he bit the Grandson of the owner. Bad move. Even the owner knew it was a step too far and the dog, Rusty, was put down.

The Chows are certainly interesting. I did not get bitten by any Chows because I was incredibly cautious around them. Great with their families, a dog who mistrusts stangers more than Chows has not been bred. Chows automatically are muzzled. And it is hard, because of their heavy coats and short faces they overheat in a new york minute. They die in grooming if you put a cage dryer on them. They go berserk in the tubs. They fight everything you do, and I really mean that. Everything. The nice Chows we had in, I can count on one hand. So they got sedated, which increased the possibility of overheating.
This one, the one I am thinking of, was coming off sedation in the tub. The bather was an inexperienced woman of exceptionally poor brain skills. I told her repeatedly to keep her hands away from the dog's mouth but in spite of that she did not, and the dog reflexively grabbed her thumb. And shook it. And shook it, and would not let go. I mean, WOULD NOT let go.
Now to be honest there is more to this story.
This particular woman had already earned my disrespect and my analysis of her was that she was basically useless in the kennel. But the dog would not let go of that thumb, and she was screaming and screaming and crying-- she was a great big woman.
Doc ran back and pried the dog's mouth open. The woman ran into the treatment area and threw herself on the floor screaming, crying and kicking her feet.
Ok. I'll be honest here. Lacking a lot of sympathy (I TOLD HER) I went up and kicked her leg and said "Oh shut up and get up and let's see the thumb."
Well laaa...it did turn out to be broken, but she quit crying and screaming and acted like an adult after that.
I don't kick dogs, I kick people....

The Boston Terrier belonged to my neighbor. Sitting on their lawn waiting for my friend Susan to bring her Belgian over so we could go on a walk with her belgian and Cooper, I was petting the Boston when a car went by. I turned my head away. WHAMMO. Nasty, nasty bite.
I went home and tried to stop the bleeding. I WAS going on that walk. No, I didn't go. I spent the time in the ER. Phooey.

Pit Bulls.
Loaded name. One from across the street attacked my first Belgian when I was putting him in the car. She hit him and knocked him under the back end of the Saturn. I was screaming and kicking and kicking and kicking at her, and she backed off just enough for me to throw (I think it was Quiller) into the back hatch and slam it and then turned to face her. Deprived of her quarry, and with me raising holy hell, she retreated.

PitBull2.
SPCA impounded a pit and her litter. They were upstairs at the clinic in an iso ward. The workers had already had trouble with her and with the puppies, which were about 5 weeks old, with aggression.
I was at work early.
I was bathing a beagle, Cindy I think. Her owner often came very early to pick her up. I did not think anyone else was there.
I had Cindy in the tub when I heard nails hitting the floor. I turned and saw this Pit bitch coming very purposefully across the room, tail wagging. I was not fooled. I grabbed Cindy (maybe it was Chloe) and lifted her out of the tub, pressing her and my front against a wall as hard as I dared. I have no idea how I knew this was a terribly dangerous situation, but I knew. The pit lunged and grabbed my forearm, hanging on and yanking. I let go of the Beagle. Instant the Pit was on her back, chewing at her neck, trying to get a hold. I grabbed the pit and fell on the two of them. I was screaming for help. SCREAMING. I kept my hands under the pits head pulling her back. The beagle screaming, me screaming, the pit silent, chewing, trying to get a better hold on the beagle's neck.
Suddenly the door flew open and one of the Vets appeared. She grabbed the pit around the throat and began to choke her, but the pit would not let go.

I will not go into details. The pit died there in hallway. The Beagle battered but basically ok, her owner standing in the hall, stunned into silence and shock. We had to kill the pit to get her to let go.
I will not discuss the puppies, which had already begun to growl and snap.

                                        I love my Bassets!!!

BIRDS

photo from images

Alas,I did not get a photo of the Red Tailed Hawk that was sitting in my driveway early this week.

I heard the calling, heard it very close, and went quietly out.

But I was barefoot and the yard has been dug up and it is just dried clay now in half the front, very hard on bare feet. At least mine. Not being Cody Lundin.

And I got distracted because the calling was so close that I even peered into the bush next to me, but there was nothing there.

Then I noticed a Red Tail overhead, also calling. I could see the very bright rusty red tail in the sun. It was the first thing the eye was drawn to.

  

© Gil Miller (photographer)

I walked (tippy-toed thinking ouch ouch ouch with every step) around the corner of the house and the hawk had been in the driveway. I do not know which of us was more startled, me or the hawk, but it exited instantly, so fast I was stunned by it's size. The wingspan was at least two and half feet across. A huge bird, by any standard, so massive I was surprised it could lift off in such a small space.

The other hawk was circling overhead, calling. The one on the drive launched, lifted and vanished in the trees before I could do anything sensible.

I wish it had stayed a moment or two longer.

DOG CRAZY

We love our boys, we really do.
But you know, some days the dogs really make us nuts.
Over the years they have learned that the male spouse is a real soft touch for treats. He cannot stand the pleading looks, the laid flat ears, the hopeful tiny tail wag (just the tip--they all learn it). Consequently, when he moves around they think they might be able to con a treat out of him, and they mob him. They bark, they leap, they yell and holler and trip him and shove him from behind and are generally very obnoxious. And what does he do? He gives them treats to shut them up.
I, on the other hand, make it plain that I am not an automatic treat dispenser. Sometimes......SOMETIMES they don't even get a treat when they (gasp) come in from outside!!!!

                                                        Imagine the treachery!

Some days, however, they just won't quit. I don't know if they are especially bored, feeling good, feeling bad, hungry or just......obnoxious. But they really are. They clamor, they yarr at people down the street when they shut a door, they scream at the mailman on the next street (they can see the next street) and they leap and beg and boss and bug us for treats, to go out, to come in, to get a treat, to pet them, to get a treat.....They remind me of small children on a bad day: Mommy watch me! Mommmy WATCH Mommy watch me watch me...Mooommmmmmmy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!No watch ME. Mommey watch ME....

I remember my children as actual children fondly, but I cannot say I am sorry they are grown. I also remember the many days I felt as if collapsing, fully clothed, face first on the floor was my only remaining option.

Watch me, Mommy watch me watch me

And on those days with the dogs swirling between our legs and banging into our kneecaps and leaping on our backs, clawing and yelling and being horrible, I remember that I asked for this. I wanted this. This is what I love most.

But couldn't they get jobs?

DECOR

I have given serious thought to the question of what type of decor I am going to have at our real house when they get to that point, assuming they ever actually DO.
I think it will be similar to what is here- a kind of minimalist design with just two or three accent colors:

                                       Looks fine to me.

WHINE POWR BY LLEWIS

Dis be Llewis. Me with da rogue leg an funny back. Cause of dese things I cannt get up on the furnitshure less it got a stair and not everthing here do. DOes. (I m  trying to yuse my books so this eezeeer to read for youse peopels what dont like bassetese..)
We all got crates scept Cooper the Belgian sheepsdog. He like to sleep in mine durin da day and he drool all ober my speschul crate pad bought speschul so I dont haveta try an liff my rogue leg ober stuff: it flat.
At nite me and Conley an Nigel sleep in our crates an Cooper he get to rome loose. Sometime he sleep wid DadPerson sometime MomPerson an sometime needer.
At da house we usta hab--dont nose where it wented. One day it rained inside an we zip off to da--nebbermind. Story for anodder time.

Anyways at da odder place I sumtime get to sleep loose too. I cannot get up onna bed or nuffin nothin like dat so I leeb MomPerson alone an sleep onna couch (got stairs) or dog bed in da odder room. Dat fine. Dis place I go back inna crate.

Here I is in my crate an Cooper done took ober Nigel's. Youse can see how my leg don't bend an so affer awhile I gets uncomfurmable. (Dat NOT right...) Uncomformable. no. Uncomfortable. Dere we go.

So enyways I starts whinin. Yousually I starts about three inna mornin. An I not quit no madder whut an MomPerson she get reel mad. Finely she wise up an lass night she done leff me outta da crate. She let me sleep onna bed wif she. I no move around an let her shove me outta she way. Dis place she gotta bigger bed. It reel nicey. Conley an Nigel juss stare at me an not sayin nuffin.
I nose dey JELLLOOUUSSS BWAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAHAHH.
oop.
Sorry. I not da ebil type. (snicker.) Hey! Dat a candy bar. I think I'm hungry. Wheres MomPerson? Mebbe I kin get a bisquit.

So keep whining my brudders. You win in da end.

Love an Drool, Llewis

THE QUIET MORNING

The neighbors have a beagle, Maddie. She is out and loose far more than she is in, and she barks, and my dogs bark at her, and they fence fight-for real- not just running the fence but trying to tear each other apart through it, which is possible. Anyway it is cool and I thought I would pick up the backyard which really really needed it.
First of all I needed to dump the old bag of poop into the garbage. Easy enough, except the garbage can is on the other side of the fence and the fence is too high for me to reach the bag over without either ripping it on the wire or tossing it over and risking having it break open when it hits the cement. So I went to unlock one of the gates but could not find the key or else it isn't working.
Meantime the boys and Maddie were screaming at each other through the fence. I got that settled down. Then the cloud of mosquitoes, horseflies and flies descended on me and I am serious about it literally being a cloud, mostly squitoes. I sprayed the bejesus out of myself even taking off my glasses and doing part of my forehead and under my chin, the back of my neck, my head, etc.
While I was doing this the dogs started fence fighting again. I got that stopped, went in and got the keys to the garage, carried the bag of dog shit through the garage to the garbage can.
Maddie started barking and the boys went off again so I got everyone shut up and began picking up. (Maddie's people are home, they just leave her out.)
I finally got started picking up poop in the yard and was attacked again, sprayed myself again, started over. I had spent about 3 minutes picking up in silence when the meter reader appeared in the yard behind us, setting off the dogs on THAT street, Maddie, and mine.This time I sent them in the house. So I knew the meter reader was around but he was on the next street. I continued picking up. I knew John had gotten up because I could smell coffee.
Five minutes into this, the dogs went ballistic along with Maddie and Angel across the street, Coco next door and the two labs kitty corner. Meter reader. He needed into the yard.
Ok the gates are locked shut and I cannot open them. I have him come through the garage. John is shutting windows. MReader has to walk past the big window in the back which is about a foot & a half from the floor, and there are 4 dogs screaming and foaming and leaning on the window as he passes it, to his horror--and the biggest one only has three legs, probably lost that leg going through a window to eat a meter reader....

 

I get him out of there but the dogs are going to keep it up until they have been out and know he is gone. As he goes in front he is intercepted by Maddie who goes apeshit and this causes all of my dogs to rush to the front window and onto the couch to make sure the MReader is not breaking in the front. By now the guy looks as if he might be about to cry.

I let the dogs out the back to prove to them the guy is gone and Coco is out on the other side of the house (She is a very sweet GSD) and of course, the barking starts again, the dogs are wired, stoked and ready to roar at anything. I bring them in and they rush the front window and begin barking because Maddie is standing in our yard. I yell at Maddie, who leaves, and throw my dogs into crates until they can get themselves under control.
(Yes, I went back out, threw out the dog poop, locked the garage door.)
It is now 8 in the morning. I am ready for the day to be over.

NOT MUCH

There is simply nothing going on. The heat and humidity continue to be
seriously oppressive. By mid-day the sparrows that use the bush in the front yard as a resting spot have moved to it's innards, and even so their beaks are gaping as they pant.
The dogs go out and walk around part of the yard, then want in. Half the time, Cooper won't go out unless he is desperate and/or I force him.
I have no new photos, nothing to photograph.
I am waiting for my Jimmy Buffett songbook to arrive so that I can tease myself by looking at songs I want to play on the piano and are so far above my level of ability that I might as well forget for a couple of years, or perhaps eons.
Conley is pretending to throw up on my bare foot. I moved.
(He went outside.)

I have all the swatches and samples for the house but they are so far from that point as far as I can tell that I might have saved myself the trouble.
Llewis just asked to be lifted onto the bed. This annoys Nigel who thinks it is HIS bed. Tough luck.

See? Not much.