You lived a long good life.
You were tolerant of children.
and provided me with one of my favorite hunting stories.
I live with cats.
But I wouldn’t call myself a cat person. I am firmly in camp dog. Why you ask?
This is why:
For those who cannot see or understand what they are looking at let me explain. This is a photo of a cat laying in a crate of potatoes. The potatoes are the last of the harvest I’ve just pulled in from the garden. The cat is laying directly on the cold lumpy potatoes and looks as uncomfortable as one would expect to be laying on cold lumpy potatoes. There is no reason for her to shed all over my fresh produce other than that cats are, essentially, jerks.
But, my cat loving husband says, your dogs would probably pee on them if given an opportunity. And I can’t disagree. My boys will pee on anything they deem necessary to claim as their own. And if it were at dog peeing level and they didn’t pee on the potatoes they would probably steal them and play with them like I had just provided them with the best toys ever. But the difference is they would be happy. Joyfully marking their territory, proudly showing me the new thing they “own” ecstatically asking me to join a game with their new “toys”. Oh, they would be in trouble but hidden beneath their rotten choices are hearts of gold.
Look at this cat. She’s not even happy to be laying on the potatoes. She, like all cats, does not have a heart of gold but something much more sinister and dark. Cats are known for covering the coziest, warmest spots around. There is no reason to lay on my cold, lumpy potatoes other than to prove that as a cat you can.
And that is why I am a dog person.
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.
I’m participating in the April Squares challenge over at The Life of B come check it out!
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 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.