Toot Toot

There is an old joke that has been around for years and it tells a story about a boy who was meeting his girlfriend's parents for the first time before they went out on a date.  After the young man knocks on the door he is greeted by the dad and promptly ushered to the living room where the boy sees an old English bulldog named Spot,resting on the floor beside the recliner.  The young man is quick to sit in the empty recliner in hopes of hiding his nervousness.  Soon after that the father began a relentless interrogation of the boy about his intentions with his daughter.  The boyfriend became even more nervous with each passing minute and he noticed that ole Spot was now sitting in front of him, begging to be petted.  So in an attempt to calm his nerves he began petting Spot as the father's questions continued.  The more questions that were asked the more nervous the boy became.  As the boyfriend's nervousness grew his stomach began to grumble and growl.  As his stomach continued to growl he started having gas pains.  His gas pains  got worse and worse.  The boy's stomach hurt so bad he knew he needed to get rid of some of that pressure or explode and not in a good way, so the boyfriend let out a little toot in hopes that his girlfriend's father would not notice.  After that the barrage of questions suddenly stopped for a moment and the father  quietly spoke, "Spot!" then the questions resumed.  The boyfriend soon realized that he had not tooted enough to get rid of his terrible gas pains and decided to let loose a bigger one in hopes of getting some relief.  When he did the girlfriend's father suddenly stopped all questions again and said with a slightly firmer tone "Spot!" and continued with his questions.  After the second toot the boyfriend concluded that the father was thinking Spot was the one passing gas and since he only got minor relief from toot number two the boyfriend decided to let out a big one so he could finally get some significant relief from those gas pains.  So without giving it a second thought the boyfriend went for the gold and blew off one that would make a champion chilli eater proud (no pun intended) but when he did, the father screamed out with panic in his voice "SPOT!"....."Get away from that boy before he poops on you!!!" 

I know that subject matter is a little crude and I really want to keep these stories as a G rating, especially for the younger readers, but what happened the other day with Red Dog reminded me of this boyfriend story.

It was a restful Tuesday evening, I was not on call and it was just about supper time.  Debbie was making her wonderful homemade pizza pie loaded with everything she could find in the fridge.  The aroma throughout the house was amazing.  I could not wait to tear into that freshly sliced pepperoni, Jimmy Dean sausage, yellow sweet onion, green pepper and black olive pie.  Reed was living back at home then while he awaited being shipped to basic training at Great Lakes Navel Station so the three of us grabbed our eating gear, loaded our plates with steaming hot slices of homemade pizza pie and headed to the living room to enjoy our meal while watching M*A*S*H reruns on Netflix. ( I am expecting to receive a handsome endorsement check from Netflix once this story is posted for promoting their product by the way...lol)  Even Red Dog got in on the action and got his own slice of pizza heaven on this day.  Once we finished eating we all sat back to enjoy the rest of our overindulgent evening.  It was quite a sight to see as Reed and I fell into a 30 minute pizza coma while Debbie pecked away at her computer working on her blog, Texasdaisey Creations and Red Dog stretched out on the floor snoring away like some old man with sleep apnea.  Once Reed and I had regained consciousness we were all chuckling over some old M*A*S*H reruns when all of a sudden Debbie jumped to her feet and yelled "OH MY LORD WHO IN THE WORLD DID THAT"!!!  A new aroma had suddenly overtaken the room and it smelled nothing like homemade pizza, that is for sure.  When Debbie yelled out, it got our attention mucho pronto.  Out of pure instinct I began reciting apologies from the Married Husbands HandBook in an attempt to deflect any wifely punishments that might be forthcoming for marital offenses, I may or may not have committed in the past 24 hours (i.e. leaving my socks on the bedroom floor, not putting the lid down after doing my little boy business, or sleeping through one of those heart to heart marital conversations that goes on for hours just to name a few).  But I was apparently still a little pizza drunk and not immediately aware of what the "OH MY LORD" was all about.  All I can say was that my beloved son, who will be written out of my will soon, was quick to point a finger my direction saying "It was Dad, It was Dad" and I was still trying to figure out what all the yelling was about.  "Thanks for standing strong for Team Testosterone son!"  I finally got a whiff of what all the yelling was about and "WOW!" was it bad.  Fortunately for me my dear sweet loving kind hearted wife did not, I repeat, did not initially blame me for this terrible offense.  She first accused her number one son which was quite surprising given the fact that he has been her little darling the past 23 years...lol...Reed instantly denied he had anything to do with it and continued to try to throw me under the bus.  So as a good murder mystery goes, if it wasn't Reed, Debbie or myself and given the fact that we don't have a butler in a library or reading room in our Huntley Manor then the only remaining suspect in the room is Red Dog.  But the question on all of our minds is how could it be Red Dog.  He was lying there lazily watching time passing by without a care in the world showing no sign he was the guilty party.  The mystery was finally solved a few short minutes later after our attention was drawn back to the M*A*S*H reruns.  Red Dog got up from his resting place then began waltzing across the room with his tail proudly displayed high in the air and with each step we heard a TOOT......TOOT TOOT.....TOOT TOOT TOOT!!!!!!! 

Unfortunately at that point there was no doubt who was guilty of this terrible atrocity and OH MY GOODNESS it went from bad to really bad in a few short steps.  I must confess that I was relieved (no pun intended...well maybe some pun intended) that this one could not be pinned on me but as a guy I had to give ole Red Dog two thumbs up for a job well done...lol...To keep from getting into trouble with my bride I kept my poker face on and the snickers to myself as she marched out of the room completely grossed out.  Who knew Red Dog was part pack mule...lol.    

Today's take home message is never feed Red Dog homemade pizza and although somewhat gross Red Dog is still a guy and he can TOOT with the best of them.  So I guess when it is all said and done the old saying "Guys Will Always Be Guys" hold true for both man and beast...lol...  Until the next adventure God bless you all.     

The Best Eggs Are Fresh Eggs

You know that old saying about a man's dog resembles and mimics his master and his habits.  Well it appears Red Dog is no different.  Debbie is always yakking at me about the things I eat, especially things that have been sitting in the refrigerator for arguably way to many days/weeks.  I am always digging around in there looking for an evening snack and when I find something that looks good or looked good a few days/weeks earlier, I grab it and start chowing down.  When she sees me walking into the room eating yesterday's/last week's left overs she nearly comes unhinged.  I usually remind her that I saw little to no unusual growth on the particular food product I was consuming just to reassure her it was safe to eat. But I don't think she believes in my ability to safely analyze refrigerated foods.  After her gagging subsides she sternly reminds me she will not be the one cleaning up any messes that might be created if I eat it.  So we have an unspoken agreement that if I mess it up, I clean it up which is only fair.  It appears Red Dog has picked up this ability to eat anything that doesn't eat him as well.  So the same clean up rule applies to Red Dog.  If he messes it up, I clean it up.  I am very happy to report that Red Dog has done extremely well in the house breaking department and has had very few accidents since he moved in.  I am even happier to report that my record in this department is even better than Red Dogs which is of great relief to my wife (no pun intended).  As you have read in the past, many things cause Red Dogs mouth to start watering which ranges from cat poo to spare ribs.  I'm on the same page as Red Dog when it comes to the spare ribs but he is on his own when it comes to the cat poo sprinkled with kitty litter.  Some of you may recall a FaceBook post many months ago where I had a very unpleasant experience while washing fresh chicken eggs and then chewing my finger nails.  For those who have never read that posting just let me say that I got to taste a part of the chicken that was never meant for human consumption and it is still my opinion that it didn't taste a thing like chicken.  
Speaking of chicken eggs, we found another food group that Red Dog likes almost as much as spare ribs today.  As you may or may not know my part of Texas is experiencing one of the worst droughts in state history with high temperature and very little rain over the past two years.  We are currently on water rationing and we are not allowed to water our grass, trees, plants, and flowers with city supplied water so things are pretty dry around here.  Debbie has about 30 chickens that have survived this two year drought thus far and egg production has been pretty poor.  Well the old girls have been doing their best to earn their keep lately and egg production slightly improved over the past few months.  During these hot summer days, Debbie has be going out right before sun down to gather eggs and she takes Red Dog along for protection in case she comes across unwanted critters.  It doesn't take her very long to gather eggs but she has this small zoo known as the DMZ (Debbie's Mini Zoo) and it takes around fourty minutes to feed, water and bed everyone down for the night.  After her chores were done I heard Debbie slam the back door yelling "that's it, you are staying outside for the rest of the night".  At first I thought she was yelling at me and so I automatically began pleading my case by pointing out I have been inside under the air conditioner watching T.V. all evening.  I quickly realize in the middle of her rant that she may not be yelling at me.  I immediately shut my mouth (a technique I have perfected over thirty years of marriage) because it makes no sense to confess to something you may or may not have done.  Fortunately for me, during the course of her rant I heard the words Red Dog and knew I was off the hook.
Apparently while Debbie was taking care of the DMZ Red Dog got hungry while on guard duty and began eating the eggs she had just gathered.  By the time Debbie noticed what Red Dog was doing he had gobbled up all of the eggs in her bucket.  I was biting my upper lip trying to keep a straight face in order to avoid the same fate as Red Dog.  As she told me what he had done the image of Steve McQueen eating fifty boiled eggs and lying on the bed with a full belly in the movie "Cool Hand Luke" kept running through my brain and I finally  lost it and just started laughing.  I don't think I won any favor with my sweet wife when that happened.  I then had the uncontrollable urge to go find Red Dog to see how big his belly was but when I got to the door I couldn't see him anywhere.  As Debbie stormed off to the bedroom I thought I might need to take a page out of Red Dogs play book and make myself scarce until she cooled down.  Later in the evening I saw Red Dog peering through the back door and he must have really liked those eggs because there wasn't even a drop of egg yolk on his chin.  He looked pretty sad staring through the window while serving out his back yard sentence this particular evening.
So today I found out that Red Dog and I not only like a good spare rib but we both like our fair share of scrambled eggs.  After laughing at my wife I also found out how well my wireless internet router works from the back yard.  By the way Red Dog says "tjcwtd cxdvm xdkelszxl asdl.lo xzp;xz" which needs to be translated because Red Dog doesn't have fingers and has to type with his paws: Until the next adventure God bless you all.                                 
                

Who Has The ASD

I really don't know how to safely tell this story without the end result being me living in the dog house.  But here I go.  Many people I know have a family tradition or heirlooms they pass down through the years as a way of remembering a family matriarch or to carry forward an important piece of family history.  Some families do it through handing down a wedding ring, hand made quilt, old shot gun, pocket watch, china hutch, eyeglasses or even the family Bible.  I know of one family who has a complete set of sterling silverware hand made by Paul Revere, yes the historic "The British Are Coming" Paul Revere, that is still being passed from generation to generation as a way of keeping alive the memory of their family members who helped defeat the British for the independence of our country.  Even my wife and I have a tradition of eating fast food tacos on our wedding anniversary for the past 30 years just because we were too broke the first 3 anniversaries to afford a nice meal.  We look at it as something fun we now love to tell people about and are happy we kept the tradition alive all of these years.  So as you can see traditions or legacies can be things of great monetary value such as sterling silver or as whimsical as cheap tacos.  For my wife's family, they have a special gift they have passed down for at least 2 generations that is for a lack of a better word "Amazing".  During our first Christmas as husband and wife Debbie and I were trying to figure out how to blend all of our family's Christmas celebrations into 3 short days.  So we did the only reasonable thing a young married couple could do, we drove roughly 500 round trip miles and made four different Christmas celebrations of both families finally ending up at my wife's grandmother's house.  While there I got the blessing of sleeping in the same small bedroom with my father in law and it was there that I was introduced to this wonderful family legacy.  I want everyone to understand that I love my father in law greatly but "OH MY GOODNESS" this man can snore the shingles off of your house.  I have never heard something that loud come out of a sleeping human being in all of my life.  He must get Christmas cards each year from the U.S Geological Survey with a snore that loud because it causes the ground to shake.  I am pretty sure that the largest earth quake ever recorded in the North Texas Panhandle had an epicenter right under his house.  You may want to Google that just to be sure.  I bet by now you are wondering how this is a family tradition?  Well after a few years of marriage I found out that my father in law has passed this amazing talent to my dear sweet wife.  Thus a legacy is born.  You now understand my concern about being in deep trouble if I tell this story.  Now that you know this much lets see how deep of a hole I can dig myself into.  Not that I am happy or bragging on my father in law but he did an outstanding job of passing down that snoring gene to his daughter.  I consider him the "Yoda" of the snoring world and you can call my wife "Luke" because the FORCE is without a doubt with her.  Now I bet you are wondering how Red Dog fits into this story.  Well, I'm not sure how Red Dog acquired the snoring gene but he has it loud and clear.  I work many late hours in our local hospital so it's not unusual for me to come home late at night  to the dynamic duo of Red Dog and Debbie sawing some very loud logs and I'm sure it sets off earthquake sensors all over North Texas.  Wow those two make quite a team but about ten months ago Debbie found the antidote to her "LITTLE" night time problem and now Red Dog is snoring solo.  The solution came in the form of a forty dollar blue rubber molded anti snoring mouth piece.  Lets just call it a ASD (anti snoring device) so I don't have to use the s-word and Debbie's name in the same sentence so I don't dig that hole too fast.  The ASD came from of all places QVC and it actually worked to my joyful surprise because QVC is nothing more than a non-stop Sham Wow like infomercial.  But after 30 years of midnight earth quakes,  I for whatever would work in order to get some sleep.  Now all I have to do to get a peaceful nights sleep is run Red Dog out of the bedroom.  
A few weeks ago Debbie called my clinic to ask me if I had seen her ASD that morning before leaving for work.  My heart sunk as I began to maticulously retraced my morning steps trying to remember if I had seen it but came up with a total blank.  She told me she had turned the house upside down looking for it without any success.  After a few minutes on the phone it hit me that Red Dog was lying in the floor on her side of the bed that morning and realized that I didn't hear Red Dog snore at all that night.  I told her to immediately pry his mouth open and see if he had a blue rubber smile.  Well no blue smile for Red Dog.  Debbie has continued to look everywhere for weeks and still no luck.  The weird thing is that Red Dog hasn't snored once since Debbie lost the ASD.  I don't think the inventor ever meant for it to be used by dogs but we may be on to something new here.  If the ASD can't fit around dog teeth maybe Red Dog chewed it up and it's now fitting somewhere near his south end. Hmmm?  And maybe what I thought was snoring from Red Dog all of this time was a south wind blowing out from under his tail.  The ASD could be working more like a muffler as "SOMETHING" escapes from the tail pipe?  This could be the beginning of a whole new line of pet products and I could name it the "Butt Muffler".  If nothing else it would make for an interesting pet commercial. lol.  But I'm guessing that Red Dog probably chewed up Debbie's ASD in the night and it's now resting somewhere in his colon.  I suggested she accompany Red Dog outside each day so she could recover the ASD but she passed on that idea and didn't see the humor in my statement.  With me being such a cheapskate, I may just have to escort ole Red Dog outside myself.  But if I do and you hear that I got Debbie a new ASD don't any of you tell her where I got it.  I am banking on you the reader to keep my secret.  
Before I leave you today I would like to introduce to you my new web address where I will be writing all future Texas Red Dog Adventures now that you know about the O'Neal family legacy.  Please go to www.larrysinthedoghouseforever.com (not really lol).  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.           

Table Napping Not Allowed

Red Dogs Favorite hiding and sleeping place.  Don't ask me why it's behind the bed room curtains???

I have told you this before but there was much debate on whether Red Dog was going to live outside or inside when he moved in.  The definition of "much debate" in the Howard House is my wife explaining to me how we are going to do something over and over again.  And as you have also read before, Red Dog won a landslide vote to live indoors but as we found out you can't always change outdoor habits.  
The other day Debbie was busy cleaning in my man room and then she was working on her flower garden in the back yard when she came in to cool off and get a drink of water.  As she walked through the dining room,she sees Red Dog stretched out lying on his stomach staring out the back door.  The only problem Debbie had with what he was doing was the location in which Red Dog chose to lie down.  To Red Dogs surprise, indoor living has rules that he was unaware of.  You just don't go and lie down where ever it suits you and the place that suited Red Dog was on top of Debbie's dining room table.  She couldn't believe what she was seeing.  An 85 pound lion hunter camping out on top of her 10 place table as though he was actually supposed to be there.  Well Red Dog got a taste of his own medicine.  In stead of the SONIC WOOF we get to hear from Red Dog all the time, Red Dog got to hear the  SONIC YELL "GET DOWN, GET DOWN, GET DOWN" from the my lovely five foot four inch wife.  Red Dog doesn't have a thing on Debbie when she decides to make herself heard.  Red Dog did what any male would do when the woman of the house starts yelling at them (Note to readers:  For the record my loving, sweet, kind hearted, merciful, forgiving, beautiful wife has never yelled at me like that so I am just assuming I know how Red Dog was feeling during this moment).  He ran for his life.  When Debbie told me what he did it got me wondering what posessed him to do that.  My imagination starting running wild and here is the answer I came up with.
Red Dog, although kind and lovable, is bred to hunt lions on the African Savannah.  So being a good hunter, he took the high ground in order to search for possible large game.  I can see him patiently sitting high atop a hill or small rock formation scanning the landscape for the rogue lion that has created chaos in the local village. I think that is really cool.  But unfortunately for Red Dog there aren't many lions in Seymour Texas.  I'm sure while living on the ranch that he came from, he spent many days lying in high places scanning the rolling plains of North Texas in search of something to hunt.  My wife went to Namibia Africa last year and she said that the Namibian landscape looked a lot like Texas so I think that it would be an easy thing for Red Dog to imagine.  But when it comes to indoor living those types of habits are considered bad manners, especially when you are turned into a city slicker.  So I don't blame Red Dog for wanting to relive a few moments of his outdoor life.  There are days I catch myself walking across the yard whirling my right arm in the air as I imagine myself  roping cattle in the pasture.  I guess guys just need to escape into the deep recesses of our minds once in a while to relive our younger days of adventure.  
Well after the "SONIC YELLING" was over things returned back into a peaceful day.  Debbie headed back to her flower garden and Red Dog got his hearing back.  I'm sure Debbie thought she had made her point "VERY CLEARLY" that dreaming on her dining room table will NOT be tolerated.  But like many of us guys, Red Dog had a short memory.  About an hour later Debbie walked in the same door into the same dining room for the same cool drink to find the same Red Dog lying on top of the same dining room table probably daydreaming of the same adventure...Again...Now I'm not sure if there are words that can indicate something louder than SONIC BOOM but it was obvious that the words ATOMIC BLAST could describe Debbie's reaction when she found Red Dog back on the table.  Red Dog once again started running for his life but this time it would be of no use.  There was no way Debbie was letting him off the hook for a second offense.  She used every ounce of her Cherokee/Creek heritage to track down Red Dog to his favorite hiding place.  Now I'm pretty sure that most Indians did not yell "GET DOWN GET DOWN GET DOWN" as the tracked buffalo across the Plains but it was the tactic Debbie used as she tracked down poor ole Red Dog.  Growing up in the 1970's, when I hear the words "GET DOWN GET DOWN GET DOWN" all I hear is K.C. and the Sun Shine Band rock'in out in my head but that wasn't any help to Red Dog.  Debbie broke out her "ANGRY MAMMA" voice and the tail chewing was on.  At one point Red Dog looked at me with those big sad yellow/brown eyes and all I could do was shrug my shoulders.  There was no way I was getting in the way of that angry Indian with all of those fireworks going off.  I have learned a thing or two after 30 years of marriage.  Well Red Dog took his tail chewing like a man (as most of you husbands can understand) and life around the Howard house quieted down once again. 

Red Dogs new dreaming location.  The foot of our bed.

Sometimes it's hard to break old habits but sometimes it's nice to relive the old days in your mind as well.  There is no doubt that ole Red Dog is still dreaming of days on the African Savannah or his life protecting the North Texas ranch house because he barks and growls in his sleeps but now he does it at the foot of our bed and not on top of the dining room table.  Red Dog is still the best dog ever, even though he is still adjusting to indoor living.  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.        

DMZ (Debra Mini Zoo)

Oscar

Mr. Buttons

Welcome to the Debra Mini Zoo or the DMZ as I like to call it.  We invite you and your  family to come visit us for a day full of fun and laughter.  Come feed the chickens, doves, parakeets, finches, goats, dog, cats, and Me as part of the activities .  We also have plenty of wildlife here at DMZ which includes skunks, possums, raccoons, mice, armadillos, hogs, deer, bobcats, coyotes, snakes, and an assortment of birds that will capture your imagination as they wander around.  You can pet any critter that you can catch as long as your health insurance is up to date.  We do not offer tetanus and rabies vaccinations for visitors but pet away at your own risk.  Free admission.  So come join us at the DMZ.  


No, we don't have a public zoo at our house but it's starting to look like it.  This was my feeble attempt at sarcasm since my wife has taken in another new pet.  If she keeps taking in critters I will have to start charging admission just to feed them all.  So I guess now is a good time to introduce the newest member of the DMZ family, "Oscar" the cockatiel. Oscar was a long time pet of our dear friend Karla.  She kept him down at her flower shop for many years entertaining customers by flying throughout the shop.  Many times he would sit on Karla's shoulder while she put together floral arrangements.  He is quite the character.  He is living with us for reasons I'm still not clear about but after thirty years of marriage I have learned to just say yes when my wife tells me she wants to do something.  So Oscar was added to our little zoo.  He has been living in a large cage that covers half of our dining room table for the past few weeks until Debbie puts him in the aviary with the rest of the birds which could be never.  The one good thing about living in the dining room is that it can be closed off from the rest of the house so Oscar can stretch his wings and fly around for a while.  


The other day that's what Oscar was doing when Debbie noticed him circling the room without landing.  She looked around and saw Red Dog standing there watching Oscar intently.  Wherever ole Oscar flew there was Red Dog staring in amazement.  She could easily see a disaster in the making but it wasn't going to be Red Dog's fault as you will soon see.  Oscar finally landed on the floor near Red Dog.  Debbie stood there and watched as Red Dog walked over to sniff on him.  Oscar just stood there without flying away.  So Red Dog kept on sniffing ole Oscar up and down.  All of a sudden Red Dog's tongue lunged out of his mouth and Debbie thought it was certain death for Oscar but no, all Red Dog wanted to do was lick on Oscar a few times and that was it.  Oscar must have thought he had flown into a giant Red Dog bathing station or something because he just stood there for a quick cleaning.  Who would have thought that was going to happen.  Certainly not Debbie.   She stood there stunned over what she had just witnessed unaware that Mr. Buttons had quietly slipped into the room.  Suddenly Debbie heard this low subtle baritone like growl coming from under the chairs and that's when she spotted Mr. Buttons slowly stalking his way toward Oscar.  Mr. Button's eyes were fixed on the target like a laser tracking system.  Debbie yells at Mr. Buttons and for a few milliseconds everything went into slow motion as M.B. started his attack run.  Oscar must have seen Mr. Buttons about the same time Debbie did because that slow motion thing quickly erupted into complete utter chaos.  Oscar takes flight in a panic, squawking at the top of his lungs warning others that there is danger here.  Debbie grabs a butterfly net she brought in as a back up in case she couldn't catch Oscar by hand and was waving it frantically in the air trying to capture him before M.B. had himself a mid day snack.  Red Dog just stood there as to say "I wasn't done giving him a bath, where is he going".   The yelling, squawking, and sheer madness continued for several minutes.  Finally Debbie caught Oscar in the net and everyone's world returned to normal.  I would have given anything to have caught this on camera because words can not describe the vision that is stuck in my head of a 48 year old out of shape house wife frantically jumping up and down swinging a netted stick with a fussy overweight house cat running around the room smacking his lips like a crazed killer and a squawking white cockatiel frantically flapping his wings above it all as his life flashed before his eyes.  It's "Priceless" as the T.V. commercial says.  I'm still snickering when I think about it.  I'm considering placing cameras throughout the house to capture the next round of chaos so it can be replayed over and over again on the  big screen for my own personal entertainment.  I have wondered what the neighbors would think if they saw all of this going on through the window.  One thing is for sure, it's not as boring in our neighborhood as people might think.  I think even Red Dog was entertained by all of this.   


So my sarcasm about having Mini Zoo may have more truth to it than what I originally thought.  So come on out to our house and visit the DMZ while admission is still free.  You can load up your lawn chair, grab a jug of ice tea and come hang out with me to see what will happen next.  And since I made mention of my wife being out of shape, you just might get to see her jump all over me while your are here.  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.                    

Three Against One

I found out a while back that Red Dog still likes being outdoors as long as the temperature suits him.  It was one of those beautiful early spring days where the temperature is around 70 degrees, sun is shining bright, a slight breeze blowing and not a cloud in the sky.  A morning where you could stay out side all day without fear of sunburn, dehydration, or heat stroke.  "It was just right" to quote that Goldie Locks chick.  So my plan was to let Red Dog hang out in the back yard for most of the day.  He could lay around catching "rays" or chase my wife's cats to his hearts content.  You all know which one I wanted to see.  So the last thing I saw Red Dog doing was....well I better not say since my wife reads this blog but he was thoroughly enjoying himself.  Now the plans I had for myself was slightly different.  I grabbed a large glass of ice tea and headed to my chair for some deep sea fishing with Bill Dance on the big screen (no need to risk getting heat stroke on a blistering 70 degree morning).  So a pitcher of ice later Bill and I caught some of the biggest tarpon the Gulf had to offer but now I was tired.  Tarpon fishing is hard work.  So for medical reasons I decided to grab a little nap in order to rest my heart from the fishing excitement because one can never be too cautious with their health.  Trust me I know, I've studied medicine.  After my tarpon outing in the Gulf of Mexico, I woke up from my much needed nap to hunting bear in Alaska.  It was turning out to be quite the Saturday morning adventure and my internal meal alarm is telling me it's time to eat.  Remember only the best outdoorsmen can transition from fishing in Florida to hunting in Alaska in a two hour time period, so keeping up the calorie count is very important.  It's doubly important to keep up my strength now that I'm in Alaska bear country and you can't outrun a bear on an empty stomach.  Trust me I know, I've studied nutrition too.  So to the kitchen I went for a high octane meal.  As I passed by the back door doing the happy dance toward the fridge I look out into the yard to see white winter fluff all over the grass.  For a moment I thought I was witnessing a 70 degree Texas snow miracle so I rubbed my eyes to focus better.  I then realized it wasn't a snowstorm that hit the back yard while I slept.  It was Red Dog.  I walked outside to a white fluffy blanket covering the whole yard.  "What in the world went on out here", I thought "and what is this stuff (or stuffing to be more exact) lying on the ground?"  Well there was Red Dog lying on the ground stretched out on the grass tanning himself like a sun bather on the South Padre beach.  Not only was he working on his tan but he was fast asleep from exhaustion.  (And it wasn't from chasing the darn cats).  Apparently Red Dog was bored since there were no cats to chase, balls to catch, or bones to chew while I was tending to my health. But "CHEW" is the clue to the white disaster that hit our back yard.  Remember me telling you how I saw him chewing up his doggie bed in the last adventure. Apparently outdoor furniture cushions taste very similar to doggie beds so Red Dog  decided he would chew to death two of Debbie's furniture cushions.  There was fabric and fluffy stuff every where.  According to my calculations the manufacturer puts about approximately a football fields worth of stuffing in each individual seat cushion and Red Dog tore apart two of them easily.  Poor cushions.  They were heavy duty and designed to hold up under my big old "ButTox" as Forest would say.  It must have given Red Dog quite the workout chewing them apart because he never moved a muscle while I surveyed the yard.  I wonder if someone taught him my possum playing trick?  Hmm.  What a mess and with Debbie being gone guess who gets to clean it up..."ME"!!!  So here I go crawling across the yard on my hands and knees picking up from the Red Dog Blizzard of 2012.  The only thing worse than seeing the mess in the back yard was the site of my big old "ButTox" shining in the air as I crawled on the ground.  Just the site of it caused children to run home crying to their mommies and adults calling my hospital phone asking for medicine to stop the nausea.  One neighbor even asked if he could cover me with a white sheet and come back after dark to show movies off of it.  I kept on working in spite of scaring the neighborhood.  The whole time on the ground I'm thinking how happy I was to own the only "Red Dog Home Security System" on the block.  By now I had finished picking up and Red Dog woke up from his sun bathing slumber.  My loud groaning while crawling around must have interrupted his nap.  I was pretty tired especially given the fact I had given up physical labor many years ago and was ready to go back inside to make the lunch I abandoned earlier.  But Red Dog didn't see it that way.  He was refreshed and ready to play.  Since I was conveniently on my hands and knees looking like a giant goober he mistakenly assumed I was wanting to do the same.  Oh great.  Red Dog was jumping, slobbering, growling, and running in circles around me as to say "come on lets play, lets play".  That tree branch of a tail was waving in the air like a checkered flag at the Daytona 500 but I wasn't in the mood for any fun and games at this point. But Red Dog just kept on going like the Energizer Bunny.  So I got up off the ground (which was an ugly sight within itself) and went inside to rest leaving Red Dog outside to do what ever Red Dog does because I was "PLUM TARRED". 

I made lunch (obviously Red Dog needed none since he consumed two furniture cushions) and carried it back to my spot in front of the big screen.  I missed out on the Alaska bear hunt but quickly found myself in a ground blind ready to shoot mule deer in Montana.  Life was starting to get good again.  I had a bag of my favorite chips, meat sandwich, and a fresh glass of ice tea.  Bring on the big buck.  I ate lunch while finishing my deer hunt and my world was back in balance once again when suddenly I heard Mr. Sandman knocking at my door.  I drifted off for a well deserved Saturday after lunch nap and when I  woke up this time someone was trying to sell me a wall mounted talking fish on the T.V.  For a few seconds I thought Mothers Day is right around the corner and I do need to get something for my lovely wife but that thought left as quickly as it came.  I figured she's already purchased such a fine piece of decor and wouldn't have the wall space to display another..he he he.  So after shaking the cobwebs out of my head...Again...I was carrying what was left over from lunch back to the kitchen (which included an empty plate, empty glass, and empty chip bag) and I looked out the back door...Again...I could not believe my eyes.  Remember earlier he chewed up "TWO" cushions, well I forgot to mention there was a set of "THREE" cushions and Red Dog had decided not to leave any survivors.  In my haste to get back to a day of fishing and hunting, I forgot about the third cushion and left it sitting in the chair apparently with "eat me Red Dog" written on it.  At this point I felt bad for Red Dog, I could have at least offered him a glass of ice tea to wash down this tasty treat.  That material has to be a little dry tasting (I'm shooting for sarcasm here).  The only good thing was that the ground wasn't quit as white as before because Red Dog had not completely dismembered the third victim.  So here I go again on my hands and knees in the middle of the back yard looking like one of the action pieces from the board game "Angry Hippo" picking up stuffing over and over...AGAIN...And there sits Red Dog wagging his tail thinking I'm ready to play...AGAIN... At this point I'm just thanking God there were no camera's to capture me on all fours crawling through grass.  It didn't take long for me to cool off and all Red Dog wanted to do was hang at my side.  He would look up at me as if to say "I Dun Good" with that tree branch of a tail still wagging away.  I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in Red Dogs mind when he was chewing up those three cushions.  Did he think he was protecting an African family from angry lions lurking in the shadows ready to do them harm or was he on the hunt tracking down a pride of lions that had been killing and eating livestock the tribe depended on for food and money?  Either way it must have been quite the adventure but it sure put a lousy dent in what had started out to be a pretty nice Saturday for me.  Now, each time I go sit on the lawn furniture and my "ButTox" has no cushion to land on I think about how hard Red Dog must have worked to kill those three unwelcome intruders in such a short period of time and laugh.  I think in his mind, he faced off with three blood thirsty killers and came out victorious.  Red Dog had a three for three Saturday and those are good stats in anyone's books.  So I guess when your pedigree goes back to a long line of lion hunters and you live in Texas where lions hunting is non existent, a dog just has to use his imagination and make do with what he's got; stuffed or otherwise.  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.             

He Eats Anything.

When Red Dog came to live with us last year he was a seventy five pound, nine month old eating machine and my first thought was "how much does a small indoor pony eat", especially since I have never kept livestock indoors. Being an indoor dog was not in my initial plans but I had forgotten to consult my wife as to what "my plans" should be.  I voted he stay outside and she voted for inside.  Apparently the election system in the Howard house works much like it does in Russia only I was given a second chance to cast my vote correctly. Indoor Red Dog won by a landslide.  It was thrilling to watch our household political machine in action.  He now lives a life of air conditioning, heating, and large white porcelain drinking fountains that fit him perfectly.  Now that the indoor/outdoor issue was settled my thoughts shifted back to the food question and here is what I found out rather quickly.  Red Dog will eat anything. 

It was a beautiful spring evening around 5:00 pm which is supper time at our house and my hungry tummy was reminding me that we had left over pork ribs from my favorite BBQ restaurant "Smokey Bros".  Large meaty, juicy, smoked pork ribs with homemade BBQ sauce.  I could hear the "I want my baby back baby back" ribs song playing in my head and couldn't wait to heat them up.  As the ribs started to warm up the aroma in the kitchen became intoxicating.  I think my feet left the ground a few times when I took a deep breath.  Oh it smelt so good and the timer on the microwave seemed to be moving at a snails pace.  I could hardly wait. (My wife says I'm way too passionate about BBQ and I told her that if they could bottle the smell of smoked ribs and brisket into a perfume we would make the Duggars look like beginners.  She doesn't see the humor in that statement).  Suddenly I heard the "Bing" of the microwave and I danced my way to the kitchen.  When I walked in, there sat Red Dog looking upward as though manna was preparing to fall from heaven and he was right.  His tail was wagging so fast you could see grout drifting across the tiles on the kitchen floor.  He was definitely ready for some ribs but so was I.  Red Dog was forgetting that he eats out of the shiny chrome bowl and I eat off the nice china with the floral print.  (Oh my Lord, I just said china with a floral print.  What's next, a discussion about shabby chic.  I better get back to the ribs).  When I plated the ribs they smelled and looked W.O.N.D.E.R.F.U.L.!!!!  I grabbed a large glass of ice tea at the end of the cabinet and started toward my favorite chair as though I was carrying the crown jewels.  The Texas Rangers were playing on the big screen and I could hear Tim Allen doing the man grunt..AR AR AR AR AR AR..in my head.  Suddenly my hospital phone rang.  While still in my rib intoxicated state, I put the plate on the arm of my chair and ran to answer my phone.  I returned in a matter of two minutes and found my plate exactly where I had left it but there were no pork ribs in sight.  I stared at the empty plate with amazement.  It looked as clean as a new car on the show room floor.  There wasn't even a drop of rib juice left.  Oh no, where in the world did the ribs go?  Then it hit me, "WE" now have a "indoor dog".  I scanned the room looking for Red Dog.  There he was sitting about ten feet from my chair, tail still wagging with a smile on his face and a small drop of BBQ sauce on his lower lip.  His chest was sticking out as though he was just named valedictorian of his graduating class at obedience school.  I don't think I have ever seen a happier dog.  He was plenty proud of himself and didn't have any problem showing it.  I looked for something.  A bone, a piece of bone, even a bone with some rib meat left on it.  There was nothing and I mean nothing.  This mutt had inhaled those ribs like Bluto inhaled green jello in the movie "Animal House".  Not only was I shocked, I was heartbroken.  The aroma was still lingering in the air as I sat down in disbelief. 

Not long after that, as a welcome to the family gift for Red Dog, my wife bought him a big fluffy doggie mattress to sleep on.  She thought this would make his new life with us more comfortable after sleeping outside when he lived on the ranch.  One night we heard him growling and snarling at the foot of the bed.  This wasn't much of a surprise since we had heard him doing this before and figured he was battling lions in his dreams.  But this time it was a little different.  There was some additional noise echoing in the darkness, so I got and turned on the light to see what was going on.  There was Red Dog standing over his new sleeping mat jumping up and down on it with his from paws tearing the stuffing out it.  Turning on the light did not slow him down one bit (or bite you might say), he kept on ripping away.  He was either sleep walking/sleep killing or very fond of the taste of that particular fabric?  To this day I'm still not sure which it was but he looked pretty funny making a mess on the bed room floor.  So Red Dog no longer has a comfortable bed to sleep on because of his taste for cheap fabric. I might also add he did the same thing to all the cushions on the lawn furniture as well.  That darn dog. 
       
If pork ribs and cheap fabric are Red Dogs favorite things to eat then a carry out foam box could be his next favorite.  A few weeks later I was cleaning leftovers out of the fridge and threw it all into one of those white foam carry out boxes used at most cafes.  Red Dog was playing in the back yard so I took him the leftovers as a little afternoon snack. Well I couldn't find his plastic food dish anywhere.  He had probably carried it off to one of his quiet places in the yard to chew it apart.  So without thinking, I put the foam box down on the patio for him to eat when he finished goofing off.  About an hour later I happened to look out the back door to see white debris all over the yard.  Red Dog ate the leftovers then apparently started in on the carryout box for dessert.  All I could see was a big mess I needed to clean up before my wife got home from shopping and I couldn't see Red Dog anywhere.  I stepped outside and whistled for him just to make sure he wasn't somewhere on place choking to death from a foam box.  As I was waited on him to come running I caught a glimpse something out of the corner of my eye.  It was big, it was red, and it was all wet. It seems Red Dog needed an after lunch swim in my wife's twenty foot fish pond she built in the back yard. (I was hoping he had waited one hour before jumping in because neither one of us wanted to be in trouble with the boss).  I wasn't sure how much of that foam box he had ate but it appears he was not having any trouble keeping his head above water.  I swear he had on a pair of sunglasses, floating on his back, sipping ice tea through a straw with a little umbrella in it, and letting his worries just drift away while relaxing in his own private spa.  At least that's how I was picturing it in my mind.  Red Dog appeared to be enjoying himself quit sufficiently living the good life. 

I guess the biggest things I learned about Red Dog since he has came to live with us are... 1)  Pork ribs make him very happy.  2)  Doggie mattresses taste good.  3)  A foam box helps him swim better.  4)  He will eat anything that I don't eat first.  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.                             
                 

The Tricks On Me.

Before I go on to the next adventure, I need to clear up a small matter from my previous post about using the words "Momma Bear" to describe my sweet lovely wife.  Those two words can have a variety of different meanings from nurturing caring momma bear all the way to face eating angry momma bear.  Debbie was somewhere between those two versions after the Lucy adventure but I meant "Momma Bear" in the most affectionate endearing way possible.  Now that I have gotten back on her good side, on to the next Red Dog adventure.  
Over the past few months I have noticed Red Dog starts whining at the back door around 5:00-6:00 in the morning.  I was worried he was whining because he needed to go out for a potty break.  Home security is a twenty four hour a day job so I figured the dog needs a little library time every so often but not this early in the morning.  I would lie there using my possum playing tactics hoping that my wife would get up to let him out but she would just lie there snoring away.  While waiting for her to wake up I started thinking about the horrible accident that might be found if I don't respond to his cry.  So I would stumble out of bed half asleep to let him out. (I really think Debbie is better at this possum playing game than I am). Then quickly rush back to bed hoping to find it still cozy and warm.  Well the past several morning I have started paying better attention to what Red Dog does once he goes out.  As he walks through the door he goes into this slow precise intentional walk.  One slow step at a time.  He stops to stare into the night with his nose in the breeze searching for a scent floating through the air.  Then suddenly his hind muscles contract and he  launches himself into the darkness chasing whatever evil lurks beyond.  I was thinking what a good boy, keeping our home safe from those free loading varmints that are cleaning me out of twenty five pounds of cat food each week.  Well the more I watch, the more I learned. He wasn't after varmints.  He was chasing Debbie's big grey tom cat "Smoky".  
Now Smoky is this tough, strong, fearless tom cat who takes no lip from anything on four legs.  He wanders the neighborhood like "Bad Bad Leroy Brown" just daring the wild varmints to try something.  I'm amazed he is still alive.  He is a battle worn veteran who has proved to me he's one tough hombre.  He is a gang of one and I think that's why I kind of like this guy.  He has only allowed me to pet him a few times. When he is tried of being touched he will strut away as if to say "that's all the time I have for you" and goes about his business.  So I am baffled why he runs when Red Dog starts after him?  Well I found out the other morning it's all about the groceries.  In a past adventure I wrote how cool it was to watch Red Dog bolt out after Debbie's cats because he looked like Secretariat breaking out of the starting gate at the Kentucky Derby and how she didn't like him to do that.  It was because her cats were coming to the food bowl to eat and Red Dog was chasing them away.  After the chase Red Dog would return to the cat food and eat everything that was left.  (He's like Mikey, He'll eat anything).  Smoky figured out that eating early in the morning eliminated the need to "eat and run".  I'm guessing that was driving Red Dog crazy watching Smoky enjoying his meal in peace so he would start whining and I was letting him out thinking it was potty time.  Well on one of those mornings Smoky decided to hold his ground and those two started trading blows right and left.  The battle that ensued was more entertaining than a UFC title fight with neither wanting to give any ground.  It was a real live "Mexican Standoff" in my own back yard.  When it was all said and done, I think they both saw the futility of the situation so Smoky ran off in one direction and Red Dog walked back to the house with a few small bloody spots on the end of his nose.  There are still two small nicks there as a reminder of that epic battle.  I don't think they like each other very much these days and have started this early morning taunting through the sliding glass door.  So at first when the early morning whining started, I'm the dumb sucker who's climbing out of bed tripping my way through the darkness to let him out.  I've been tricked into the middle of a early morning dog and cat feud.  "Yippee".  I bet my wife snickers when she reads that. (The reason I say she will snicker is when we were younger and she would get upset at me, she would sometimes stay up at night to rearrange the living room furniture because she was too mad to sleep.  Many times my job as a paramedic kept me out until the early morning running emergency calls and I would not turn on the lights when I came home to keep from waking her up.  Almost every time I would trip over some piece of furniture she had moved.  She told me she would lie there and laugh to herself when she heard the thump of me tripping over something followed by groaning in the darkness.  That's why she's snickering).  So this morning I decided I was going to hold my ground when I heard Red Dog making that fake "I've got to go potty" noise.  I looked at the clock and it was 5:30 in the morning.  I told myself "heck no, I'm not getting out of this warm comfy bed" and went back to sleep.  It was 6:00 am and Red Dog is still whimpering at the back door.  So I laid there wondering if he really was faking this or will I be calling in a hazmat team to come clean up a toxic mess on my wife's living room floor.  I rolled the dice and fell back to sleep.  Around 6:15 I was awoken by Red Dog's "Sonic Bark" WOOOOOFFFFF WOOOFFF WOOOOOOOOFFFFF WOOF WOOFFFF.  "HOLY HEART ATTACK".  I jumped to my feet as though reveille had blown and I had over slept at boot camp.  I ran to the back door with my heart pounding out of my chest, flung it open and watched Red Dog charge into the breaking dawn.  I still have no clue whether he had to potty really bad or had Smoky on the run.....Again.  Now wide awake, I headed back to my warm bed for a few more minutes of sleep.  I apparently dozed right off on my return because the next time I looked at the clock it was 6:30 am.  I laid there foggy headed thinking something wasn't right.  Oh no, our water bed had sprung a leak.  Great, I can't catch a break this morning.  Then it suddenly hit me as the last of the sleep cleared out of my head, "Oh man, we don't own a water bed".  Darn you Red Dog and your loud "Sonic Bark".  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.                    
                     

Wet Marks The Spot

Lucy

Mr. Buttons

Not every adventure at the Howard house is created by Red Dog.  My wife operates a small zoo around the place which includes a large number of cats who's population has grown by ten kittens in the past few weeks and still counting.  It's the feline version of the Duggar family.  There were about fifty chickens penned up in the back of the property until this summer's heat wave and drought killed some of them.  Their number now stands at thirty five.  It brought a whole new meaning to the words "fried chicken".  She got twenty new baby ducks late last spring as the drought began and those little guys lasted about two weeks due to the heat.  One evening they just started falling over like they were at a Pentecostal revival and it didn't stop until they were all gone but two.  At one point she had about forty pair of parakeets in the aviary until the heater in the bird house stuck on high and created an over sized easy bake parakeet oven.  As you can tell high temperatures were not friendly to her bird population.  There was one lone surviving parakeet so Debbie brought him three friends for "company" in hopes that baby birds would suddenly appear.  The kids got her two pink doves to keep the parakeets company and increased the population of the aviary.  Apparently the doves have decided to be just "friends" because there are no signs of any serious relationship between those two if you know what I mean. Wink Wink.  There are two Pygmy goats, Burt and Ernie, who act like a couple of guys according to my wife.  They hang out all day making a mess in the pen just eating, drinking and pooping.  Not bad duty if you can find it, is my thought.  Occasionally they would put on a head butting demonstration that would rival anything seen on Mutual of Omaha's "Wild Kingdom".  I would go get a large glass of ice tea and watch them until one of us would get tired.  I know, it's a guy thing.  There are also a large number of possums, raccoons, and skunks that show up nightly to partake in the twenty five pound per week feeding frenzy of cat food in the back yard.  The deer regularly stop by to nibble on the acorns falling off the oak trees in the front yard.  It just dawned on me why the Grey Diablos work so frantically picking up the acorns.  Their only competition for these tasty treats are the white tail deer better known as the Cola Blanco Gang.  I guess due to the Cola Blancos overwhelming size the Grey Dioblos have to hustle to bring home the bacon (i.e. acorns).
As you can see I don't throw the word zoo around lightly.  But I'm not quite done with the Dr. Doolittle role call.  Most of you have come to know and love Red Dog but let me introduce you to a couple of new characters.  Mr. Buttons and Lucy, who are the indoor cats, and where this particular story begins.
Mr. Buttons was the first to come live with us.  He is a very large, fat, furry, lazy black and white tom cat destined to a life of indoor luxuries.  He was given to us by some dear friends who have a large country vineyard but apparently country living wasn't Mr. Buttons cup of tea.  He was always trying to sneak in their house to avoid the rigors of country living so it was time to head for the bright lights of the big city with swimming pools and movie stars.  We found out once he came to live with us he had some very specific dietary needs that didn't include mice or dry cat food. Canned tuna was his meal of choice, preferably plated so as to not irritate his delicate palate.  He was without a doubt an "Aristocat".  
About one week later Reed, our son, found a small yellow and white fuzzy female locked in a pet carrier sitting in the the middle of a lone dusty country road and brought her home.  Of course being a little fuzzy fur ball, there was no way Debbie was going to send her back into a cold cruel world where coyotes and bobcats roam.  I would like to tell you that after a vigorous debate, I finally agreed to let the cat stay but that decision was made the minute the cat hit the door and not by me.  Whoopie! (and I mean that sarcastically.)  Debbie named her Lucy because the red fur looked the same color as Lucille Ball's hair.  So within two weeks she added two cats to the "Greatest Show On Three Acres".  I'm not a fan of indoor cats but Debbie told me I was going to change my mind about that.  For those readers who are "Star Trek" fans, the infamous Borg phrase "Resistance is futile" echoed in my head as she "EXPLAINED" to me why I was changing my mind.  Now that she cleared that up for me I now think indoor cats are great and I mean Tony the Tiger "GREAT".  Remember she reads my blogs too.  As the weeks went by both cats just got fatter and lazier as they adjusted to their new Beverly Hills like life style.  Lucy, being a juvenile, was always wanting to play and old Mr. Buttons saw no need in exerting that kind of energy.  Besides, his food bowl was in the kitchen and he would need those precious calories to make the strenuous journey at meal time.  Lucy was without a doubt becoming a thorn in Mr. Buttons side and one night it all came to a head.  Mr. Buttons always slept at Debbie's feet on the corner of our king size bed.  I think he always thought that "king" was the appropriate way to describe his place of rest but Lucy thought differently and wanted that space for herself.  
The time was about 3:00 am on a Saturday morning and my slumber was disrupted by Debbie screaming at the top of her lungs, "GET OFF ME.  GET OUT OF MY BED.  GET OUT OF MY BED"  while kicking and thrashing off the covers.  I quietly laid there confused, shaking off the fog of sleep trying to figure out what I had done to cause her to yell at me like that.  That king size bed is so big it almost feels like I need to text her good night just to make sure she hears me so I was pretty certain I had been behaving myself this particular morning.  Although half asleep, I wisely chose to lie there playing possum.  This was a skill I perfected many years ago when the babies would start crying in the middle of the night.  I would throw in some fake snores to complete the illusion of sleep until I figured out what woke up Momma Bear.  Luckily it wasn't me this time, it was her precious Lucy who had jumped on the bed chasing off a sleeping Mr. Buttons and began claiming her new place of rest as her own.  I laid there motionless, just in case I misread the situation, wondering why she had been yelling like that.  Apparently after Lucy took over her new sleeping quarters she proudly walked over and sat on Debbie's chest and began to make pee pee on her pj's in order to make claim to the new territory.  Debbie had been woken up by loud thunder and children crying but I do believe this was her first time to be woke up by cat urine.  Lucy and I were both relieved but for two totally different reasons.  I could hear her griping at Lucy from the bathroom as she changed her pj's.  After she was finished, she immediately went on a room to room search with Marine like procession to find the guilty party.  I should have gotten up to help but I was too busy snickering like a little fifth grade girl while trying to play possium.  She finally found Lucy and promptly put her outside to face the forces of darkness for the rest of the night.  Oh she was so mad but that was so funny.  Don't ever doubt that my wife deeply loves her animals but she just wasn't feeling the love this particular morning.  After this stunt I knew Lucy's days were numbered.  You don't make pee pee on Momma Bear and continue to get to live the high life, at least  at her house.  A few days later she got to move to her new home far far away and I don't mean heaven just Abilene.  To this day I don't even mention this incident in fear I will get a new home far far away which could include heaven!  So after telling this story, if I show up on your door step with suit case in hand please have mercy on me and let me in.  I think she will let me come home in a month or two.  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.  

Sonic Woof

I opened the front door of a friend's house the other day and heard this sweet female voice say out of this little white box "Front door open".  Our friend had bought herself a home alarm system and I thought that was pretty cool.  But then I thought what she really needs is a Red Dog.   
If you have read some of the Texas Red Dog Adventures, I have mentioned that Red Dog has a rather loud bark but let me see if I can better describe just how loud it is.  We knew from the first day that Red Dog moved in he was going to be a barker, which was good for Debbie since I'm gone a lot.  He barked at everything.  First it was anyone at the door, next every animal in the yard, then cars on the street,  and also as the porch light came on (motion sensor activated).  I think at one point he was even barking at the rising sun.  HOLY COW, it was SO LOUD and we have found out it does have a lasting impact on those who hear it.  
We had two friends come to the door to give us a bid on some construction work.  They knocked and off went the alarm "WOOOFFFF WOOF WOOOOOFFFFFF WOOOOFFFFFFFFF WOOF".  The ground shook, the walls vibrated, and my heart stopped for a few seconds.  I then composed myself and answered the door.  I opened the door to see one man standing stiff as a board gritting his teeth hoping not to be eaten.  The second man had already made an about face and was half way back to their truck never looking back.  I guess he figured he only had to out run the other guy at the door in order to live.  There was also another friend, who was walking down the street, who made an immediate U-turn still half a block away and was heading home.  So I think you could say "yes that's one loud bark".  
On another occasion, we had a guy working on the front of the house one morning when my wife left to go shopping.  Red Dog normally stays outside when no one is home to keep from making big stinky messes in the house.  I came home for lunch and noticed that Red Dog was inside whining at the back door so I let him out into the back yard.  I knew that Debbie planned to be gone most of the day and thought he needed to stay outside until I came home from work.  As I backed out of the drive I noticed there were tools lying on the ground and remembered that the handy man was there to do some work on the front of the house.  I didn't give it another thought and headed back to work.  Around three o'clock it dawned on me that there was work to be done in the back yard as well and I left Red Dog out there.  I jumped into the truck and hurried home to put him inside.  As I came up the drive I saw the handy man picking up his tools like he was getting ready to leave.  He said everything was done in the front but when he headed to the back yard he was greeted by a sonic WOOOFFFF WOOFFFFFF WOOOOOOFFF WOOOOFFFFFF WOOF.  He was startled because Debbie told him earlier that morning she put Red Dog in the house so he could work back there.  Oops, my bad.  The handy man stopped and texted his boss to tell him that there was a giant dog in the back yard.  His boss texted back "yes I know, the dog is friendly".    Apparently the boss and the handy man had too different definitions of friendly because he wasn't wasting any time picking up his stuff.  This immediately reminded me of the "Pink Panther" movie scene where Inspector Clouseau asked a man, with his heavy french accent, "Does your dog bite" and the man says "No" so Clouseau tries to pet the dog that was sitting near the man and that dog attempted to chew his arm off.  Clouseau then looked at the man and said (once again in his french accent) "I thought you said your dog didn't bite" and the man answers back (again with the accent) "That's not my dog"  Well this was my dog and I tried to reassure him Red Dog doesn't bite (or at least not yet) but I don't think there was any way to convince him after he heard that "sonic bark".  So I went and put Red Dog in the house so he could start the work in the back yard.  I intentionally opened both garage doors to allow the handy man easy access to the back but when I returned to apologize for letting Red Dog out at lunch, I found both doors closed.  The handy man was still not convinced  that Red Dog wasn't going to eat his face off, so he had followed behind me shutting both doors as I walked Red Dog into the house.  I felt bad he was that scared but I just had to chuckle that he had closed the doors behind me.  I guess he figured better to be a live chicken than a faceless handy man.  Now, I don't want you to think that Red Dog would hurt anyone (unless you are planning to rob my house and in that case he has ate the faces off many buglers and small children) but usually once the barking is over it turns into a licking and petting frenzy for Red Dog. 
So if you get the chance to visit our house don't be scared.  Just stand your ground, knock on the door or ring the door bell, stick both index fingers in your ears and prepare for the "SONIC WOOF".  If you decide to run, head for one of the oak trees in the front yard and climb on up.  Red Dog has many talents but as far as we know he can't climb trees. lol.  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.        

Kryptonite Rawhide

This last winter Red Dog got what we thought was a nice surprise.  The Gentry kids (who are a cool bunch of house apes) had been reading about Red Dogs adventure on Facebook. So while shopping one afternoon they saw this giant three foot long rawhide chew bone at the pet store.  The kids thought it was something Red Dog could use and bought it for him out of the kindness of their hearts.  It just so happened that we ran into the Gentry's at a popular local BBQ restaurant known as "Smokey Bros" before the kids could get the chew bone delivered to the house.  The kids brought the unwrapped gift inside so there was no doubt what it was.  This thing was ginormous.  I've never seen a chew bone that big in my entire life and I'm positive Red Dog hasn't  unless he's stumble across an old cattle carcass while living on the ranch.  I got tickled as they gave me the gift.  Many of the customers were looking at this chew bone like "I didn't see that on the menu".  I often wondered if anyone grabbed a menu to see if it was listed.  So we finished our meal and I carried the huge bone out of the restaurant like a cave man carrying a leftover leg bone.  I had a sudden urge to yell "YABBA DABBA DOO" as I walked out the door.  
When we arrived home, I walked into the house carrying Red Dogs new gift.  He greeted us at the door with his normal excitement of tail wagging but then Mega Bone caught his eye.  Those brown eyes grew to the size of a small car and locked on me with a laser beam stare.  I am almost sure he was hearing angels singing in his head.  I laid it on the floor and he began to eagerly examine his new gift.  After studying it for several minutes he looked up at me as if to say "how do I get a dinosaur bone in my mouth".  This look caught me off guard considering the fact that just a few days after Red Dog moved in last year he inhaled three large beef ribs off of my supper plate in the blink of an eye without even leaving a grease trail.  So Debbie picked up the chew bone and gave it to him.  Red Dog stood with his head wobbling from side to side desperately trying to balance the bone in his mouth like an Olympic Weight Lifter trying to balance a five hundred pound bar bell.  He held on as long as he could and finally dropped it on the wood floor causing a loud WHAPP!!!!  Red Dog tucked his tail and ran to closet with the speed of a gazelle running for his life.  Debbie and I just had to laugh then it dawned on me, "Great, now all it will take to rob us blind is for a thief to throw a piece of raw hide on the floor".  After a few minutes, I was able to lure him out of the closet. It then hit me that even Superman was defenseless against kryptonite and that made me feel better(I don't think Red Dog knows who Superman is so he didn't feel better).  I decided that Red Dog doesn't have to got off to Guard Dog College and I didn't have to clean up anything stinky off the floor.  It was a win-win day for both of us.  Until the next Red Dog Adventure, God bless you all.

The Lion Killer

Today lets start off with a little history lesson about Rhodesian Ridge Backs.  This is a breed that was created to chase and kill lions on the savannas of Eastern Africa (i.e. Rhodesia or modern day Zimbabwe). Their combination of speed, strength, and desire to please man made them the perfect hunting/protection dog for the cattlemen of the African plains.  That's enough history.  

This story begins 30 years ago in a far off land known as the North Texas Panhandle.  It involves a very handsome, intelligent, debonair, verile, romantic, polite, devoted, ( I could go on and on)  young cowboy and beautiful, tan, slender, brown headed city girl who made a little black bikini look darn gooooood (please cover your children's eyes when reading the bikini thing).  They fell in love and were married.  They discussed many things as newlyweds do.  Things such as how many children they want, where do they want to live, what will their house look like, where will the kids go to school, what's the best brand of fishing poles, who makes the best shot gun, what's the best breed of roping horse.  You know, all the normal newlywed stuff.  One thing the young bride asked of her new husband was if they ever bought a home in the country she could have all the cats and kittens her heart desired and he lovingly agreed.

Now flash forward 30 years.  This young married couple is older now and just moved to a new community purchasing a home on the edge of town.  They have 3 acres of land and a couple of small barns on the property and depending on where they are standing, they can be inside or outside the city limits in seconds.  They are surrounded by beautiful homes but still inside the city limits.  Apparently "home in the country" means the same thing as "home on the edge of town" in female jargon.  So to make a very long story a little shorter, here is "the rest of the story" as Paul Harvey used to say.  
We (or at least one of us) are the proud owners of 15-25 cats depending on the number of pregnant females and this is where this Red Dog adventure begins. 

When Red Dog came to live with us I thought it was so cool that his  ancestors were trained to be lion killers.  I thought to myself "Now that's a mans dog if I ever heard of one", so taking in Red Dog was an easy decision.  He likes to sit at the back door looking out into the yard scanning for threats.  If one was spotted he would snarl and growl to get my attention.  I would open the door and zoom, he was gone to confront the potential threat.  I was like a kid with a new toy, excitingly waiting for the next growl and do it all over again.  He would fly through the door like Secretariat breaking out of the starting gate at the Kentucky Derby.  It was even cooler at night because he would disappear in the dark like a starship hitting warp speed toward a distant planet.  In my mind he was after skunks, raccoons, possums, and other assorted varmints but according to my wife I was wrong.  He was waiting for a few of her gazillion cats to come to their food bowl so he could chase them.  I thought it was cool but once again I was wrong according to you know who.  So now Red Dog and I are in deep doo doo with the wife for our little chasathons.  "He's a lion killer", I thought to myself but would always say "yes dear" in response.  Every time he would leap into action my mind would wander off to Africa, imagining he was after the king of the jungle saving his owner and his cattle from certain misfortune (see, I'm really a kid at heart).  But here comes Debbie yanking me back to reality saying, "Quit that, he's scaring all my cats away".  I knew she was right but I just couldn't help myself.  Cats belong in the barn chasing mice or providing coyotes with a quick meal or at least the slow ones do...Don't let Debbie read that part..lol..I lovingly agreed to pay closer attention to why he wanted in the back yard.  But she had a plan.  A plan that would break the heart of his forefathers.  

To counter his critter chasing training Debbie has decided to start her own indoctrination program for Red Dog.  She has a new litter of kittens and has brought them into the house to be raised around Red Dog.  So instead of chasing them, he has been brain washed to lick them.  The transformation was very quick and terrifying.  You girls will get a warm fuzzy feeling looking at these pictures but it saddens me to see how effectively he was turned.  Water board the poor dog but not this.  Submitting him to such feminine mind games of sugar, spices and little pink butterflies is heart breaking.  The horror of it all was too much.  Red Dog finally broke.  He went from a blood line of trained killers of the most feared felines in the world and now he's Mary Poppins in a dog collar.  Poor Red Dog, I certainly hope he can reclaim his proud heritage one of these days but until those cotton pick'in cats quit having babies it looks very doubtful...lol.

                       Until the next adventure.  God bless you all.