Hanging With The Big Dogs

I would like to introduce you to Rosie.  The newest addition to the DMZ.

Many years ago when I was little I used to love staying at my Aunt Peggy's farm house out in the middle of nowhere in the Oklahoma panhandle.  There were only two t.v. stations to watch from a 20 foot antenna and depending on the weather we might accidentally get a fuzzy picture from a third station in Ensign, Kansas so a person had to use their imagination to make the day pass by and my cousins Randy, Billy, and Terry were experts in this particular field of entertainment. 
Up in the Oklahoma Panhandle there aren't very many trees across the rolling plains and if you see a clump of trees out there you can just about bet one of two things are going on.  The first would be that many farmer/ranchers planted them around their houses to use as a wind break for those harsh panhandle winds that blow through the land or to provide shady cool refuge from the scorching panhandle sun.  The second reason you might see a clump (and I use the word clump because forest or grove would over exaggerate the number of trees that actually exist in that part of the world) of trees such as Cottonwood or Chinese Elm  that could be seen across the landscape was only because there was a pond, creek, or river near by.  Well it just so happened that my cousins Randy, Billy, and Terry lived within 200 yards of the mighty Kiowa Creek which trickled into the North Canadian River (or Beaver River as we called it) which runs through much of the Oklahoma Panhandle and this is where many adventures took place daily.  Randy lived on the west side of Kiowa Creek with Billy and Terry living on the east side.  All three boys were older than me so I saw it as a great privilege to hang with my older cool cousins.  How lucky could a five year old get to hang out with such wise and experienced individuals.  I was mesmerized by this fact and would have walked through fire just to hang with them.  I followed those guys around like a little puppy excited to see what the adventure of the day looked like.  I don't quite remember the details of how we planned out each adventure but we sometimes had top secret meetings in the old storm cellar north of Randy's house which jumped the whole experience into the "Mega Cool" category because none of my other five year old friends had an under ground fort (insert your Tim Allen "man grunt" now).  I don't even remember Uncle Bob and Aunt Peggy having a telephone in the house and we cousins must have communicated with each other by Morris Code, Smoke Sign, and probably Mental Telepathy because we all seemed to find our way down to Kiowa Creek at the same time each day and didn't go back to the house until late in the afternoon.  I can remember being so excited as I stayed in Randy's hip pocket as we made our way down to the creek.  Man those were fun times.  We would fish, hunt turtles, tell stories, have stick and dirt clod fights and even wade around in the creek when we got too hot.  I'm sure that I got on Randy, Billy and Terry's last nerve much of the time and they probably tried to ditch me a time or two but my brain just refuses to remember those occasions in order to keep all of those Kiowa Creek Adventures in that "Mega Cool" category of my five year old life.  

The reason I tell you this story is that Debbie decided the day after Christmas she needed a new Rhodesian Ridge Back puppy added to here DMZ (Debbie Mini Zoo).  Her name is Rosie and we aren't sure at this time how old she is because our vet wisely chooses not to work over the holidays but she is a short chubby red Rhodesian pooping machine right now and she has driven every ounce of holiday fragrance out of the house if you know what I mean.  She is mesmerized by everything Red Dog does and follows him E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E.  She is his officiall "Mini Me".  Red Dog's world has been turned up side down and now has to share the "Good Life" at the DMZ with someone else.  I don't think he is very happy, happy, happy about it.  When poor old Red Dog goes to eat there's Rosie.  He goes to drink there she is again.  He goes outside to take care of some personal business and who is there climbing all over him...You got it, Ms. Rosie.  I thought yesterday might had been the final straw as Red Dog headed into the bedroom for an afternoon nap on his new Christmas bed but guess who beat him there....Rosie.  Red Dog has taken the presences of his new friend in stride but when he found Rosie sleeping on his new bed that was ENOUGH of that.  Red Dog snarled and Rosie wisely darted under our bed to avoid any retaliation for using his stuff.  It was about an hour later when I walked back into the bed room and there lay Red Dog fast asleep with Rosie snuggled beside him.  I guess a comfortable bed and a good nap can fix a fellow's attitude.  So later that afternoon with a good nap in the books Red Dog started showing Rosie the ropes.  He began patrolling the indoor parameter of the house as usual with Rosie close at hand watching every move Red Dog made and during the course of his patrol a situation suddenly arose that caused Red Dog to spring into action...There were strangers near the front door...Although the holiday has started to wind down some of our neighbors still had family visiting and were unaware of Red Dogs primary patrol rule which is that any person who has not been identified by Red Dog as a regular neighbor will be sternly warned with multiple "SONIC WOOFS" until they return to their appropriate side of the street and with no questions asked.  So as Red Dog monitored the situation out the front window he had no choice but to enforce that rule as strange children played near our driveway.  So the warnings went out very loud and clear to move away from the premises with "WOOF WOOF WOOOOF WOOOOFFFF WOOOFFFF WOOOOOFFFFFFFF".  I don't think that Ms. Rosie was quite ready for such a loud warning and immediately took cover underneath a chair in the living room but after a few moments she was back at Red Dogs side ready to help do her part to defend the property.  Once all of the "SOINIC WOOFS" were over and the children moved back to their own yard I saw Rosie walk up to the same window Red Dog was looking out of and not being able to see over the window sill started this low grumbling puppy growl.  Suddenly she squirted out two little "mini sonic woofs" and went to following Red Dog throughout the house once again.  Rosie successfully survived her first training session and walked away feeling ten foot tall and bullet proof.  Although the mission was successful Rosie has a lot left to learn and I can almost bet it won't be the last time that Red Dog gets annoyed with his new colleague.  But the neat thing was that this whole episode stirred up some great childhood memories of a time gone by when I was a little goober much like Rosie hanging out with my "Cool Cousins" having adventures on the old Kiowa Creek.  I'm pretty certain that my cousins remember the details as more of an annoyance than an adventure but they were still nice enough to put up with me anyway.  I laugh to myself when I think back on those days and how I must have acted alot like Ms. Rosie following Red Dog around.  I learned many things hanging out with them and I must give credit to my "Cool Cousin" Randy who taught me how to talk like Donald Duck and my first cuss word which nearly got my five year old head slapped off by my mother when I used the newly learned slang in front of her friends one day.  I won't repeat the word because of younger readers but I will tell you that the soap she used to wash out my mouth tasted nothing like chicken.  When I think back to that time I was probably way more annoying to my cousins than Ms. Rosie will ever be to Red Dog but those wonderful childhood memories live vividly in my heart and I will cherish them "FOR-EV-ER" to quote one of my favorite lines from the movie "Sandlot".  I can't wait to see what adventures Red Dog and Rosie get into as a new year begins and if they are anything like the ones I had back in the day with my cousins, it will be an interesting year.  I hope that each of you have a great 2013.  Until the next adventure, God bless you all.      

Gone With A Bang

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.                                 
            

Born To Ride

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.