Well as we all know, dogs come in many shapes and sizes with most dogs having a specific shape and size in order to accomplish the task of the breed. For example Beagle's and Jack Russell's are bred to hunt rabbits and foxes (and not the two legged kind that wear bikini's. Just want to make that clear to the male readers.), Labrador's are bred to swim and retrieve ducks from the water, Huskies for the endurance to pull a snow sled, Brittney's to hunt and retrieve quail and pheasant, Australian Shepherds to herd and sort cattle, German Shepherds for personal protection and to eat criminals, and poodles to wear dumb looking hair cuts and prance around some old ladies house. You can probably tell which breeds I like the most. Each dog has a specific purpose for existing and ole Red Dog is no exception. I don't really understand why but I am absolutely fascinated with the fact that Red Dogs blood line is bred to track and hunt lions. If nothing else it just sounds cool that his ancestors hunted down something so majestic and lived to tell about it so to speak. A fox or rabbit will always run away. A quail, pheasant, or duck will fly away. But the thought of Red Dog's ancestors chasing down a critter that could turn and eat them just captures my imagination. I've seen a rabbit stop to stand his ground when he is being threatened by a coyote but that didn't last once the coyote decided it was lunch time and I've even seen cattle chase Australian Shepherds out of a corral when I used to work for a rancher. I have never seen duck, quail, or pheasant make an organized aerial attack on hunters unless pooping before take off is considered to be some kind of ugly symbolic gesture on the bird's part, however I have witnessed a Yellow Billed Starling dive bomb my oldest daughter multiple times when she was twelve years old and that just made me laugh till I cried. But to think that this big red muscular smart stout handsome looking animal known as a Rhodesian Ridgeback could hold his own with Mr. Lion, the cool factor is off the chart in my mind and I own one. It makes me want to stand tall with my hands on my hips, look skyward and do the Tim Allen man grunt "ARARRARRARR". It's so cool. That's why I like my Red Dog so much but today I found out something about Red Dog that I was hoping not to be true so let me tell you about it.
Many months ago I decided to get back to shooting my guns that I haven't shot in many years. Since crashing my Harley at seventy miles per hour 6 years ago, (and not being able to get the wreck out of my head) I have been looking for a way to fit some quick stress relief into my busy schedule. Shooting my old guns and buying some new ones to shoot seemed to be the way to go. So that's what I have been doing lately, burning up ammo every chance I get. Well this afternoon as I gathered my gear for the firing range I thought I would take Red Dog along and he could enjoy it with me. Red Dog, being the observant fellow that he is, noticed that I was no longer in my work scrubs but in my play clothes so to speak. He began watching every move I made, following me from room to room in order to see what I was going to do next. Finally Red Dog heard the jingling of my truck keys as I grabbed them off the table and he went into full alert. His ears flew skyward, his eyes locked on to me like a missile defense systems, and began to wag his tail around and around as though he was rapidly cranking a World War II warning siren alerting everyone that something was up and Red Dog was pretty sure he knew what it was or at least he thought he did. The jingling of my keys and a wardrobe change could only mean one thing to Red Dog..."ROAD TRIP!"...and I told y'all in the last adventure how much Red Dog likes to go for a ride and he was "RED DEEEEEEEEE" to hit the road. Out the door he went, with the excitement of a six year old headed to the Toy Store. He jumped into the bed of the truck and immediately moved to his favorite riding spot (which is the front right of the truck bed so he can enjoy the view of the country side) and off we went. He likes sticking his head outside the bed in order to catch a cool breeze but once we hit sixty miles per hours his face looked like Tommy Lee Jones face while in the G Force machine in the movie "Space Cowboys". Red Dogs ears are flapping like a flag in the wind, his tongue is hanging out and flying straight back touching his ear, his face has that distorted G Force look to it and he is smiling from ear to ear the whole time. Sometimes I swerve around in my lane because I'm trying to watch Red Dog in the rear view mirror. We finally make it to the firing range to see that we are the only two out there and have the whole place to ourselves. Yippee!!! I decided to let Red Dog stay in the truck for a while since he has never been to the range with me and let him get accustomed to the gun noises from a distance. So after thirty minutes of sighting in one of my rifles I walked back to the truck to get Red Dog who was patiently lying down in the truck bed. I opened the tailgate and he jumped to the ground with the excitement he had before leaving the house. He was "Happy Happy Happy" as Phil Robertson from Duck Dynasty says. We walked back over to where the guns and gear were and I told him to sit down beside me. Now that he was in a safe place I was eager to see how he would react to the report of the rifle and I would soon get my answer. I continued to pet Red Dog as I fired the first round and oh my goodness he wasn't ready for that. He gave a full body jerk and started to slowly walk away like "holy crap what was that?". You could tell he didn't care for it much but he tolerated it none the less. I called him back and he obediently came and sat down beside me but the excitement he had only minutes ago was immediately gone. No more perky ears. No more tail wagging. I was hopeful that after shooting for thirty minutes prior to letting him out of the truck might have better prepared him but that just wasn't the case. As Red Dog sat there beside me I fired a second shot down range. He didn't flinch near as much as he did the first time but he was done. He started walking off and would not come back at my command. As I continued to call his name he would stop for only a few seconds to give me a look like "go jump in the lake, that's enough of that business" and walked away with as much dignity as he could possible muster. With his tail down between his legs he slowly headed back to the truck. As I watched him walk away it reminded me of when I was thirteen years old and forgot to take out the trash one evening. It was eleven o'clock at night when my dad noticed I hadn't done what he asked me to do earlier so he told me take it out now. It was pitch dark and we had no back yard light to brighten my path as I walked to the alley. When I reached the trash can I began to throw the sack inside when suddenly the neighbor's cat jumped out of the barrel. I jumped ten feet in the air while my heart leaped three feet out of my chest and simultaneously wet my britches. In those few seconds I felt more terror than any human should ever have to experience. So I gathered up what wits I had left and slowly made the walk back to the house just like I saw Red Dog doing. But in my heart I was running like an Olympic sprinter expecting an ax murders or the boogie man to grab me at any moment. I completely understand what Red Dog was going through with him trying to calmly walk away from a situation with your dignity intact and your is brain screaming "RUN SUCKER RUN". So I gathered up my gear and headed back to the truck. When I got there Red Dog was sitting in the bed in his happy place looking at me like "what the heck were you thinking, I'm a lion killer not a bird dog. My ancestor's owners used spears and bows to hunt with not nuclear bombs". I don't think I could have baited him out of the back of that truck with 10 racks of ribs at this point so I shut the tailgate and we headed to the house.
Don't worry about Red Dog, he completely recovered and was back to his old self by the time we arrived home. When I opened the tailgate and he jumped out with the same swagger that he left with. He Immediately headed over to his water bowl and take a big long gulping drink like he really needed that after this little adventure. Although Red Dog is a big strong loud lion killer of a dog I think he might be getting a little soft or "Yuppiefied" as Phil Robertson would put it by living indoors in the lap of luxury. I don't think I will take him back to the firing range anytime soon because I still want Red Dog to use his "Sonic Bark" to scare the pudd'in out of those uninvited guest who might come snooping around our place. As far as home security goes, I think Red Dog will just continue to use his God given "Sonic Bark" to guard the place and won't be pack'in heat anytime soon. Until the next adventure, God bless you all.
As many of you have read in the past we have quite the collection of critters at our place and I often refer to this menagerie as the DMZ (i.e. Debbie's Mini Zoo). We have chickens, goats, parakeets, finches, cockatiels, doves, cats (oh do we have cats), Red Dog, and ducks. Well just one duck now. For some reason our ducks die like flies after a winter freeze around here so I guess because he is the lone survivor of many ducks that have passed through the DMZ and when I say passed I mean that literally. I call him Super Duck (SD). I have never seen SD leap a small buildings in a single bound but he has survived drought, death, and disease so he must have some hidden super powers or ninja skills. But all of Debbie's critters have little quirks that either tickle or annoy me.
Take for instance Super Duck. Not only has he survived many near death experiences around here but during the summer when we broke out the kiddie pool for him and the hens he was always the first one in the water and the last one out. Each time we fill it up he acts like it's his first time to ever see a body of water he could float in and he would jump in the pool for Tasmanian Devil like swim. Now on the other hand the hens stand around the edge sipping on the water like it's a refreshing cup of tea. It's sip and cluck, sip and cluck cluck, then sip and cluck cluck cluck just like any other group of women at a tea party. They are probably sitting there complaining about their husbands so I'm not surprised when I hear cluck cluck, cluck cluck cluck, cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck and understand what they are clucking about. LOL. As far as the roosters go they are just like any other guys. They guzzle down as much as they can hold and hurry off before the hens get a chance to hen peck them. Isn't it weird how nature imitates life. When it come to the parakeets, doves, and finches they are all thrilled just to get their bird bath filled up. They all jump into that thing like a bunch of stinky ole cowboys who have been riding the trail for months and have finally come up to a tank of fresh water. They whoop and holler (in bird talk of course) and splash around like a bunch of little kids.
Although our feathery critters make me laugh the the goats and cat fall into the annoying category. Our goats (Bert and Ernie) aren't here any longer because they figured out how to escape from their 8 foot tall fence and would go visit the Angus cows down on the Brazos River. After chasing them down two different times in two weeks (and when I say chase that means I send my son and his 19 year old legs to do the job because I am in no shape to exercise) so they were given to my little 6 year old friend Weston for goat roping practice and I think the goats have met their match with him. As far as the cats go, it's like having a school of land sharks constantly circling your feet. You open the back door twenty five fussy chia-pets dart into the house at super sonic speed. It's like twenty five miniature hit and run accidents in 3 seconds hitting my leg. I just stand there motionless praying I am still standing after the frenzy is over with. The most annoying thing about the cats comes down to one very large 35 pound black and white long haired cat called Mr. Buttons. He is the size of a small Bobcat and fears no evil. He roams the neighborhood just daring something to come after him. He is an indoor/outdoor cat and comes in and out of the house as he pleases. All in all a pretty cool guy as cats go but he has one quirk that drives me absolutely crazy. When he's ready to got outside he will start slapping one of the window blinds with his front paws. He looks like George Foreman working a punching bag. I have no clue why that's his signal to go outside but it is. The thing that drives me nuts is that he seems to think he always wants to go outside at three o'clock in the morning. Why? Once again I have no clue but all I know is that this goober will beat on the blind until one of us gets up and if you chase him off he returns within minutes for rounds two three and four. If in the event that doesn't wake us up then he pulls out the big one. He jumps up to one of the posts of our bed which is about 5 foot tall and takes a leap right into the middle of one of us. I don't know if you have ever had a 35 pound cat jump on you at night but I can say it is not pleasant and will wake up even the heaviest sleeper from their dreams. Whatever it takes he is committed to his mission. I'm too old to be missing any sleep so I usually cave in and let him out so I can get some shut eye. I guess that's the price I pay for having a wife who is a critter junkie. All in all I can live with it.
I bet by this time you are wondering what this has to do with Red Dog? Well, Red Dog is the one critter around this place that doesn't get under my skin and he causes me to laugh most all the time. Today was no exception. It was my afternoon off from the clinic and I came home to one of the prettiest October days I have seen in a while. The sun was out, there were few clouds in the sky, temperature a perfect seventy degrees, and no wind. I decided to go for a drive through the country side just to enjoy the day. Ever since Red Dog learned how to load up in the pickup bed, he loves to go riding as well. So after I finished lunch I ask Red Dog if he wanted to go for a ride and man does he know what that means. He started pacing around the room wagging that tree branch of a tail like the checkered flag at a NASCAR event. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth slobbering all over the floor and I knew he was ready to go. He was so excited and darted off toward the garage. As we got to the back door he tried to bolt right through and head out to the truck but because I wanted him to control his excitement I made him sit and stay at the back door a few times. That way he could collect himself (doing the calm submissive thing like Cesar says) and learning not to blast through the door so no ones gets tripped in the future. It was like telling a 6 year old kid to sit in front of the Christmas tree and not touch the presents. It was almost beyond Red Dogs self control but he settled down and sat their until I told him he could go. He is such a good Red Dog. As he walked into the garage his excitement immediately turned into great confusion. There was no truck. His tail stopped wagging and he slowly started walking around the area where the truck was supposed to be. Red Dog looked up to me as if to say "what the heck, am I being punked". I must say I was a little surprised myself because I forgot that I parked the truck in the driveway at lunch. Man that empty garage made us both feel like the only two guys standing in the middle of the Grand Canyon, echos and all. At this point I saw the excitement drain out of Red Dog. His ears drooped downward and tail fell between his legs. He was one disappointed hound dog at this point. So I opened the garage door and we walked out into the drive. Within seconds he caught a glimpse of the truck it was game on again. He ran to the truck as fast as he could. You would have thought that he just guzzled down a 12 pack of Mountain Dew. His excitement was out of control...again. Red Dog stood at the tailgate in launch mode with his legs shaking just dying to leap into the truck bed. He got so excited he had a couple of failures to launch until the tail gate was completely down. When he jumped up into the back I could have sworn I saw him strike a pose like one of those extreme BMXer's stretched out over his bike as he flew over the top of the tail gate. The second Red Dog was in the truck he sat down and looked at me like "come on, quit goofing around, let's go". So off we went. Red Dog sat back there with his nose in the air, tongue and ears flapping in the wind. As the Geico commercial suggests, He was happier than Gallagher standing in the middle of a watermelon stand. At that moment all was right in Red Dog Land as we headed off to go pick up my best pal Mark.
What a wonderful way to spend a beautiful fall afternoon. Taking a drive through the countryside enjoying God's creation, discussing life events in the company of a good friend, and Red Dog slobbering down the side of my newly washed truck. If only there would have been some ribeyes cooking on the grill when we returned Red Dog and I could have really hit the big time. But never the less it was a very good relaxing afternoon for all of us. In the immortal words of Phil Robertson from Duck Dynasty, it made us "Happy Happy Happy" to go for a ride in the country on such a beautiful fall day. Until the next Red Dog adventure, God bless you all.
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.
