Tag Archives: Dogs

I Have a Small Furry Creature with Yellow Eyes and the Gift of Speech

In my four-part book series, Rising Tide, I have a small furry creature with yellow eyes and the gift of speech. The creature, known as a Nuckta, is the last of its race and goes by the name Seeka. This animal is not a pet, but a character, just as any other in the story.

It sets me thinking of the pets I owned in my younger years. 

I first recall a Dachshund we named Bo-Peep. I was but a few years old when we took her in, but a teenager when she passed at a ripe old age.

Living in a rural area, we had our share of strays. That was how we acquired our next mutt I named Ralph, a large breed that resembled a sheepdog. Ralph’s ownership overlapped Bo-Peep’s so there were multiple dogs in our household for a while. Ralph and I were inseparable for quite a few years until heart worms claimed my pal.

Lumpy, Marvin, and Gomer followed with the latter being the sweetest and dumbest dog to walk this earth. All of our family and a portion of our neighbors hit this dog with their cars. Poor Gomer could just not learn to stay out of harm’s way, and as much as we tried to avoid contact, it was not to be. Gomer was more like a cat with nine lives until a stranger zipping down the road in front of our house hit him for the last time.

I kept an odd array of pets, including an alligator (which I think was actually a Caiman), Boa constrictor, numerous lizards, turtles, small rodents, a ferret named Floyd, and the crème de la crème, a Black Widow spider.

I watched the arachnid for many weeks feast upon insects before laying two enormous egg sacks. Upon awakening one morning, I noticed both egg-sacs had hatched. The jar now housed mother and a few thousand babies. It was apparent this glass abode was  not adequate to house them all after “Mom’s” delivery. With nothing but a fine mesh cloth covering the square hole cut into the top of the jar for ventilation, the need for something “more” was evident. A can of Raid took care of any residual beasties.

I do believe the last paragraph in this week’s post will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that teenagers have the propensity to display large amounts of stupid. Please learn from my stupidity not to raise deadly arachnids. Nuff said.

Have one great week and may God bless you richly.

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Like a Turd in a Punch Bowl, It Just Doesn’t Figure

I have cleared my desk. Pens and pencils pierce the sheet rock walls. What remains of my Hemmingway 2000 typewriter, circa 1948 rests in pieces on the floor. Ferret (1)Mangled chunks of keyboard, motherboard and any other board which resided in my desktop are strewn around the room.

Having done this for one and one reason only, I had hoped we could bypass the waves of technology and simply talk.….You know, I say something, then you say something…… And before you know it, a conversation breaks out.

Okay I’ll start.

I had a hankering (hankering is southern US slang for wanting to do particular thing) to tell you about Floyd. I became good friends with Floyd somewhere around my 20th year when he came to live with us.

Having limited space we were forced to bunk together. This would not have been such a bad arrangement, had Floyd paid closer attention to his hygiene. In fact he just plain stunk. The smell was tolerable during the day. We would frolic through the fields, play hide and seek and just about everything else best buddies would do together.

Then came the night and It was Katie bar the door.

It got to where I could stand it no longer. I demanded that he bathe every day. This stench had to stop. At first he tried to stonewall me, but he knew down deep that I was right and bathe as he might, the stench was there to stay.

Did I mention that Floyd was a ferret…… I didn’t?…… I just assumed with thc picture and all…… Oh well.

Now if you’re considering ferret ownership and choose to purchase a male, make sure it has been castrated and the anal glands removed.

If purchasing a female and all you need worry with are the anal glands.

If you’re wondering why removing the anal glands is necessary, it helps the animal smell better.

But do you know what?…….It doesn’t work!

These creatures are curious, delightful, friendly and make wonderful pets, but the fact remains, that with or without their naughty bits, they still smell like a rectum.

Other animals have anal glands that are closely related to the ferret. Skunks, minks, otters to name a few. Thank goodness that ferrets are not able to express theirs like a skunk.

Even man’s best friend is equipped with a pair. So if you see your dog scooting its butt across the carpet, its anal glands are impacted and time for a trip to the veterinarian. If Rover ever starts leaking that juice you’ll rename your ferret rosebud.

I had Floyd for several years until he escaped and ran into a dog, who evidently wasn’t put off by his smell.

I still think back fondly, of a stinky little fuzz ball who would pull entire plates of food under the couch

Okay, now it’s your turn. So speak up, don’t be shy.

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And Down Will Come Baby, Cradle and Whatever Else Has No Business In the Top of a Tree

Dog Looking at and Listening to a Phonograph, ...

(Photo credit: Beverly & Pack)

As I sit in my lonely writer’s room, I ponder my very existence. Do I actually exist? If so, why am I here? How can I possibly accomplish the task for which I was brought into existence to accomplish? “How,” I ask you.  “How?” As my soul sinks into the depths of despair, I feel my very life’s blood flow into nothingness, for I am nothing…a mere thought, unable to accomplish the simplest of accomplishments.

 How sappy can you get? I almost threw up writing it. It may have flown a hundred years ago, and although my version was a little over the top, it just goes to show you how writing styles have changed over the years.

 I used this intro to segue into sayings we use today, but which have lost their relevance, (had they possessed an iota of relevance to begin with.)

 Remember this one?

 “Work like a dog.”

 Now I’ll admit that there are breeds of “working” dogs that actually labor today and this practice was much more prevalent back in the day when dogs were bred for a specific job.   The notion that, “work like a dog” has any real meaning today careened down the mountain side, through the veterinary specialists (including psychiatry) canine insurance, into businesses catering exclusively to our four-legged friends  complete with gourmet food, sweaters, bows and, the crème de la crème, fake reindeer antlers.

  My dog’s definition of work would be as follows:

 Eat, drink, lick, standup, yawn, chase squirrels, become bored, give up, bark at a cloud, water bowl too far away, yawn, circle twice, plop down, lick, take nap. Repeat process until bedtime.

 “Work like a dog?” I think not.

 How about this one?

 “Sleep like a baby.”

A friend spends the night at your house. The next morning you meet in the kitchen for breakfast. During coffee you make an offhand comment.“How’d you sleep last night?” “Like a baby,” comes the reply.

So you went to bed around 8 p.m., I think to myself. Cried yourself to sleep, woke up at 10 and 12 for a feeding and diaper change. At 2 a.m. you drank your bottle, burped ever so slightly and then pressure-puked all over your mother, your crib and yourself. Finally returned to sleep at 3 a.m., woke up at 4 a.m. for bottle and diaper change , then laid back down just in time for a rectal blowout. This little slice of heaven managed to push through the diaper legs and all over the crib. Someone cleaned you up and all involved were back to sleep by 5:30 a.m.. You were up for the rest of the day by 6 a.m.

 Once again, “sleep like a baby.” I think not.

 So what can we take away from these paragraphs of wisdom? Unfortunately, not much, so I’ll leave you with this tidbit:

 Elephants could fly, if bicycles would stop eating ham sandwiches… Now think on that one a while and get back to me.

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