I’m not much of a musician. I try, somewhat, but my efforts, combined with my innate lack of musicality, mainly succeed only so much as to bring to mind a certain phrase about flogging a dead horse.
However, I excel at playing the dog whistle. While it might not be the most tuneful instrument around I always have a rapt and appreciative audience.
Chalk that up as another reason to love a good dog.
After weeks of recovering from a silly knee injury I’m back out walking the dogs and taking pictures of things that catch my fancy again!
The dogs and I are all smiling about that! Now it might be time to look for some birds…
Everyone here is excited that my nephew has come to stay for awhile…
…except maybe Goose who is looking worried that he is in danger of losing his favorite top dog perch!
Today’s photo was taken by John in contribution to my month long participation in the April Squares challenge hosted by The Life of B.
When you take your guard duties seriously it’s important to have the high ground.
Willingness to leap to the top of a five foot high stump is imperative if you are to truly do your duty as a watch dog. As is the tenacity to bark at the neighbor no matter how many times you’ve been told not to. And most importantly never, ever, smile no matter what the tourists do for a picture.
ting in the April Squares challenge over at come check it out! The Life of B
If you insist on collecting eggs in your pockets.
Which I do.
And if one of your pockets has a hole.
Which mine does.
And if you never count how many eggs you put into your pocket.
Which I don’t.
So that you inevitably lose an egg in the lining of your coat without realizing it.
Of course I do.
And the egg breaks inside your jacket.
As mine do.
So that you wonder why you still haven’t sewed that hole shut.
As I do.
It’s best to have a helper to carefully remove as much egg and shell as possible through the hole before the wash.
And I have the best one of those.
“Now, bring me that horizon,” says Captain Jack Sparrow.
And also my dog and I.
We miss fall hunting and big skies.
I have handsome boys…
…but I’m starting to get the impression they are getting fed up with all the picture taking I’ve been doing.
I was able to run away from home for a week of bird hunting in Montana this October.
And after the last few grey mornings here I’m longing for one of these still frosty Montana mornings.
Which sounds odd because I’m not at all a morning person. But I have found thatI’m much less grumpy if I get to spend sunrise in a field with my dogs rather than in the kitchen with my kids.
What can I say?
The dogs are
always happy to be up and running and they never, ever, complain about their breakfast.
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week (or last).
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
I’ve got a dog with drive.
In pointing dog speak that means that when I take him out looking for birds, he is willing to hunt every bit of the cover we are in and beyond.
It means that when he is out in the field with his nose to the wind, it doesn’t matter how tired he is or how long we’ve been out. He still flies over the ground with enthusiasm.
It means that when a bird goes down running, he runs after it.
It means he never quits.
In everyday-life-speak that means that he digs holes like he means to go to China.
And it means that when his paws don’t work, he uses his teeth.
Yup, I’ve got a dog with drive.