brooms are great for training kittens. i always play ice hockey with the kitten as a puck on the wooden floor in the kitchen. 3 minutes of being slid from one end to the other of the room wakes 'em right up. great respect for brooms after that...
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Sittin in my shed....
- Thread starter mr.brunch
- Start date
My aunt used to have a Yorkshire Terrier and the thing would lose her mind when the closet door that contained the vacuum cleaner was even touched.
It was quite possibly one of the most entertaining annoyances I've ever experienced... I used to torture the poor thing when I visited by just barely touching the knob.
My brother was entertaining a Kirby vacuum salesperson when I was visiting him from out of town during college years... and there was a time for the poor girl to offer to demonstrate the pet grooming attachment on his pooch.
The mutt shredded the attachment and then my brother didn't even buy the damn thing. The girl was likely paying her way through college with the shitty job and even more likely had to buy a new attachment out of her pocket.
I was aghast and promised myself that I would never sell Kirby or Cutco.
Dogs shouldn't even be expected to respect loud scary things, no matter their intended purpose.
The possibility exists for a considerable story however.
All of our pups have different reactions to loud noises, ranging from curiosity to fear. The 80-lb. female GSD pup is more curious than anything, even with snowmobiles.
When I got my first Electraglide, all my wife wanted was a new Kirby vacuum; evidence I was in a good relationship in some ways. $11,000 versus $1,500. The Kirby came with all the bells and whistles, but we have never used it on a pup.
Former friend and former partner on the river, 40 years+ ago raised Dobermans. He had a muscle-bound male that was both (often) sweet as cream, and sometimes overly protective.
The dog was fond of gunfire and would get so enthused he'd jump up in front of the shooter into what I was frequently certain had to be the path of trajectory, immediately in front of the muzzle several feet out. Looking like he was trying to catch the bullets. No bullshit. Including with full-auto weapons.
That Dobie, beautiful as he was, was mostly deaf from his attraction to loud firearms, and for a guard dog, one of my forms of entertainment was to sneak up on him when he was sunning in the yard, catching some rays and totally asleep, then yell his name when I was hovering over him up close. Not a kind thing, really, but funnier than all hell.
Same guy had a group of geese that more than made up for the Dobie's deafness; the 'weeder geese' as they were known, could hear anyone pulling into the driveway 150 yards away, and they'd start hissing with their wings out, flexed, and their necks craned.
Everybody has a job to do. Just not always clear whose is what.
My old 1/2-Norwegian elkhound, 1/4 shepherd, 1/8 husky and 1/8 coyote male friend is buried down on the river now, next to that same Dobie, as the Dobie more or less provided the dog end of the training and mentoring when my pup was very young. We picked up the other end. Both good dogs and they've been down there for many years, planted beneath suitable trees to match their personalities. My pup has been there for nearly 30 years now, wrapped in an old, comfortable military wool blanket to keep his spirit warm.
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Bullets?! Crazy dog.
I didn't know that coyotes could interbreed but I find it fascinating. I have known a wolf hybrid but that just makes a tiny bit more sense. I totally think that makes sense, I've just never made the connection.
I am curious to know if it's like a mule, can she (has she) bred a litter?
I do have a bit of PTSD from Canadian geese from childhood.
They are pretty fierce if you're five.
There was a litany of articles in this area about a 'coy-dog' or 'coydog' years ago. They're all members of the canine family, wolves, coyotes, dogs.
Jeremey grew up on the river here and took many a road trip across the US and Canada with me. I used to tell people that we could stop at any pull-out or rest area in North America, and in under 5 minutes he could find a carcass to roll in. Made for a lot of miles with the windows rolled down during the summer trips, sometimes into hot areas where odiferous-ness lasted and amplified in a hot truck; my old 1964 Ford F-100 short-bed, step-side.
Some pups like to find scat to roll in. Jermey was fond of dead stuff, and the longer it had been dead, it seemed the more he was prone to rolling in it.
He's the pup that collapsed in the driveway, which I was informed of when I pulled into a gas station parking lot to use the payphone to call home in Hudson's Hope, B.C. on my first Harley Electraglide, on my way to Northern Manitoba to visit former friends, 450 miles or so north of Winnipeg in a small town there near Quartz(?) Lake, near the Big Eddie Cree Rez.
I'd offered to turn the bike around and cancel the trip, but my wife said for me to continue, and she'd keep him alive until my return.
She spent $700 in early-mid 1990s dollars keeping him comfortable and alive until I returned.
Several nights after I returned home to Valdez, where we lived at that time, I laid on the floor next to him on the kitchen linoleum, stroking his head and shoulders until both of us were nearly asleep, and I retired to bed. I think I knew that was the last night.
When I woke up, he'd passed, and I wrapped him in that wool blanket, and kept him in a large empty chest freezer in the shed there, until such time as I could transport him up into the Interior, to bury him on the river next to his puppyhood mentor..
All of my dogs have mostly been good dogs. Best friends forever. He was exceptionally kind, sweet, smart, and loving... albeit exceptionally odiferous when given the opportunity.
His father was a sled dog mutt from winter of 1981/1982, with coyote in him; 1/2 shepherd, 1/4 husky and 1/4 coyote. My registered Norwegian Elkhound was a gutter tramp when it came to selecting mates. She liked to run with the no-pedigreed ghetto trash.
Jermey was born outside at 50-something below zero, nestled into a tree root. He thrived, nonetheless. His momma kept him warm until they were brought inside. She was a good pup and momma, too. Lost her on Christmas Day in the early 1980s, at mile 543, Fireside, B.C., on the Alaska Highway. Heartbreaking event.
Coydog - Wikipedia
What's The Deal With Coydogs?
There’s a creature that lives in Vermont that you don’t see very often. But a lot of Vermonters recognize its unmistakable call.It comes across the night…
www.vermontpublic.org
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There was a litany of articles in this area about a 'coy-dog' or 'coydog' years ago. They're all members of the canine family, wolves, coyotes, dogs.
Jeremey grew up on the river here and took many a road trip across the US and Canada with me. I used to tell people that we could stop at any pull-out or rest area in north America, and in under 5 minutes he could find a carcass to roll in. Made for a lot of miles with the windows rolled down in the summer trips, sometimes into hot areas where odiferousness lasted and amplified in a hot truck; my old 1964 Ford F-100 short-bed, step-side.
Some pups like to find scat to roll in. Jermey was fond of dead stuff, and the longer it had been dead, it seemed the more he was prone to rolling in it.
He's the pup that collapsed in the driveway, which I was informed of when I pulled into a gas station parking lot to use the payphone to call home in Hudson's Hope, B.C. on my first Harley Electraglide, on my way to Northern Manitoba to visit former friends, 450 miles or so north of Winnipeg in a small town there near Quartz(?) Lake, near the Big Eddie Cree Rez.
I'd offered to turn the bike around and cancel the trip, but my wife said for me to continue, and she'd keep him alive until my return.
She spent $700 in early-mid 1990s dollars keeping him comfortable and alive until I returned.
Several nights after I returned home to Valdez, where we lived at that time, I laid on the floor next to him on the kitchen linoleum, stroking his head and shoulders until both of us were nearly asleep, and I retired to bed. I think I knew that was the last night.
When I woke up, he'd passed, and I wrapped him in that wool blanket, and kept him in a large empty chest freezer in the shed there, until such time as I could transport him up into the Interior, to bury him on the river next to his puppyhood mentor..
All of my dogs have mostly been good dogs. Best friends forever. He was exceptionally kind, sweet, smart, and loving... albeit exceptionally odiferous when given the opportunity.
His father was a sled dog mutt from winter of 1981/1982, with coyote in him; 1/2 shepherd, 1/4 husky and 1/4 coyote. My registered Norwegian Elkhound was a gutter tramp when it came to selecting mates. She liked to run with the no-pedigreed ghetto trash.
Jermey was born outside at 50-something below zero, nestled into a tree root. Her thrived, nonetheless.
Coydog - Wikipedia
en.wikipedia.org
What's The Deal With Coydogs?
There’s a creature that lives in Vermont that you don’t see very often. But a lot of Vermonters recognize its unmistakable call.It comes across the night…
I thought your Elkhound was a girl.
I also consume copious amounts of alcohol and THC.
My brother's dog loves the stankiest nastiest stanky funk she can roll in.
It's totally in line with the "cover your stank with other stank, hunter" gene most predatory mammals seem to possess.
Sled dogs are like the freaks Hunter S. Thompson wrote about... tough and rare.
"There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die." -Hunter S. Thompson
Yes, my AKC-registered elkhound back then, that I lost on Christmas day in the early 1980s in B.C. on the Alcan was a female. The rescue elkhound we have now, is not registered, and about 12-13 years old, is also a female.
The pup, Jeremey, was my registered Elkhound's pup, and a male, the product of a male sled dog from next door when I lived in the far end of the Goldstream Valley on another's property in a nice log cabin, off grid.
Never really looked into why some dogs like to roll in carcasses. Maybe it's like a trophy or something?
The second link above, despite an overwhelming number of intermittent ads within, gives the best descriptions of breeding potential with coydogs, and how that differentiates from mules, etc.
Unlike some of their lesser social descriptions of coydogs and bearing in mind that Jeremey was only 1/8 coyote, he loved kids, but (initially unknown to me until it was reported to me by a co-worker one day) was -very- protective of his/my turf and possessions where people were concerned when he could smell pheromones that indicated they were up to no good.
My '64 Ford didn't have functioning locks I could unlock, so it remained unlocked, even when I had money or dope inside, and was in work. A coke head with little self-discipline had tried to reach inside my truck to "pet your dog" (likely seeing if he could make friends to access the truck) came inside the restaurant we worked at and told me my dog had tried to take his arm off. Incredibly unusual behavior for Jerms. And the coke head in reference had a reputation for wanting things he couldn't afford, including my coke and weed at times.
Otherwise, Jermey loved people, and especially kids. He'd play ring-around-the-rosy with neighbor kids who lived through the woods down on the river. If I looked out into the yard and couldn't see him, but heard the kids through the woods giggling, I almost always knew where he was and often times, what he was doing.
He was incredibly sweet in most circumstances, but later proved himself to be incredibly protective when called for.
My kind of dog; one that can discern the needs of the moment and the players involved, and make decisions accordingly.
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Got a fair bit done in the garden today…
mature compost heap all spread on the patch, working compost heap moved into the old spot and turned (it was a lot bigger than I thought
) hedge cut with shears (good exercise) and harvested some bamboo to use for beans and peas.
Rain due this weekend I think
mature compost heap all spread on the patch, working compost heap moved into the old spot and turned (it was a lot bigger than I thought
) hedge cut with shears (good exercise) and harvested some bamboo to use for beans and peas. Rain due this weekend I think
retirement is nice, but i'm going to go back to work. i'm working more now than when i had a job! i get "volunteered" for all manner of shit "since i'm not doing anything", lol. yesterday though, was all my fault. i had some free time, but did i go fishing? or turkey hunting? work on my boats? fuck no. i sorted through my firewood stacks, pulled out the rotten shit, and piled the "shaky stuff" up by my burn spot for the next nice night that wanders by. i get a lot of thinking done, sitting out there stoned while staring into the flames and poking the fire with a stick. my shed needs attention too...
Seems every time I plan to have fun and go on a 'vacation', it hurts a lot.
Just yesterday, I was remembering that I have not been to an airport, flown anywhere, rented a car, stayed in a hotel in some strange city, or bought some stupid fuck (or possibly one of the rarer good ones) dinner in over 3 years. As well, I didn’t have to suck up to a man who earned the nickname Dyson – after the vacuum cleaner – because every word out of his mouth was just air movement. He staged a palace coup from Marketing Director to CEO just after I left. But the guy that was couped was a specimen as well and a good candidate for the poster child of the stereotypical arrogant French pièce de merde. I took 5 guys from their 2nd biggest customer in the world to visit the factory and as we were walking between production buildings, I saw him pull in and I called him over for an introduction and with his first fucking sentence he embarrassed them and seriously pissed everyone off. Where was a guillotine when we really needed one?
So, yes it is. Truly. I have spent an amazing amount of time stoned - which I did before of course - but now I don't have to answer for my time. It belongs to me, finally. Of course, my wife has a few ideas about that . . .
Long ago, I came to the realization that vacations were anything but. If I had a truly great vacation then I always needed a week or more after it to truly recover. With covid, we curbed our worldly vacation aspirations and rented cottages in Ontario the last three summers with my stepson and his fiancé. For a week of doing nothing, it sure was a lot of work. Going to Africa for 3 weeks of Kruger camping seemed a lot easier. But since we were local, I could bring along a sufficient representation of my own stash and sit on my butt listening to the loons call on the lake as high as Elon's satellite launch that we saw in the black sky. Sure, a loon may not be as exotic as a hyena whoop but it is just as magical in its own way. This year, we stay home. We spent the vacation monies on paint and carpet and I still don't think I am ready for an airport experience yet anyway.
Former friends had a cottage on a private lake in Northern Ontario, and we'd sail there in a small sailboat, and catch smallmouth bass; one of the better fish to fry in flour or crumbs and butter., for sure.Long ago, I came to the realization that vacations were anything but. If I had a truly great vacation then I always needed a week or more after it to truly recover. With covid, we curbed our worldly vacation aspirations and rented cottages in Ontario the last three summers with my stepson and his fiancé. For a week of doing nothing, it sure was a lot of work. Going to Africa for 3 weeks of Kruger camping seemed a lot easier. But since we were local, I could bring along a sufficient representation of my own stash and sit on my butt listening to the loons call on the lake as high as Elon's satellite launch that we saw in the black sky. Sure, a loon may not be as exotic as a hyena whoop but it is just as magical in its own way. This year, we stay home. We spent the vacation monies on paint and carpet and I still don't think I am ready for an airport experience yet anyway.
We've always put a lot of time into planning and packing (I take everything that MIGHT be asked for, whether by us or someone we meet on the trail), but these days the packing into truck or trailer, and the unpacking once there, then re-packing to come home, and unpacking again, leaves the triple laminectomy in the lumbar and lower thoracic in protest. Time limited Band-Aids if administered after a certain age.
Turns out my walking-on-water neurosurgeon and his primary surgical PA (both of whom I was very fond of) are no longer at the place they were in Los Anchorage; he retired, and she took off to tour the many exclusive ski spots around the world. A different income bracket than I became accustomed to, apparently.
I managed to get outside today for the first time in what seems like days, or even a week.
So now that I'm dressed and back from town, drinking a fine 8.5% abv Imperial Oatmeal Stout, I figure I may as well go and dig out one of my shittier, smaller tarps, and go lay underneath the class B camper van in the mud and melting snow, and get some measurements on the width of the leaf springs, as well as the clearance between the rims, tie-rod ends, and brake parts, so I can further advance our plans for our next bout of torture... err... I mean, vacation.
Headed for Aishihik Lake in the Yukon Territory in early July, with my wife and our three dogs. My daughter (our first-born), along with her significant other are renting a decent sized motorhome for the trip, and my oldest son is planning on bringing his 2 pups and driving his new compact vehicle, and either staying with my daughter and her fiancé' in the motorhome or camping in one of the 2 large tents I'm gifting him after we refurbish them.
Undoubtedly, having 5 dogs along for the trip (which we've never done before, but this may be my last trip to a place most of my family has never been when my younger son and I would go there each year) is going to require a LOT of extra H2O in jugs. The GSD drinks water like she's diabetic or something. Which, of course, will mean more heavy lifting.
Full circle; having fun hurts these days.
And of course, launching the boat from a trailer attached to a 9-1/2 ft. tall camper van will be a first, too. No 4x4 pickup truck this trip. Ought to be interesting, to say the least.
But hey, there's giant lake trout in that lake, if the wind lets us out on it, and lots of unpopulated wilderness out there, too.
I think I'll take my Rx opiates and muscle relaxers with me, just in case.
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brings back memories of family fish fries years ago. i love to catch smallmouth, but i haven't eaten one since the walleye were stocked in local rivers/lakes. now fishing is a win-win for me. i'm liable to catch either one while wading the river, so if i get a hit it's going to be a hell of a fight or an exquisite supper...
Peas ready to go out in a day of two- pea seeds soaked then planted In pieces of kitchen roll tubes, whole thing gets planted in the ground.
Works well with runner beans too
Tomatoes from seed- probably another week or two before they get put out
Then I will clear the window cill and replace with pumpkin and bean seeds
Works well with runner beans too
Tomatoes from seed- probably another week or two before they get put out
Then I will clear the window cill and replace with pumpkin and bean seeds
Beautiful little ones Mr. Brunch!
If I recall correctly you're the one who got me sprouting frozen peas one season!
If I recall correctly you're the one who got me sprouting frozen peas one season!
These ones are dried peas, sold as eating peas… pea seeds are £4 for 30 , while these are less than £1 for hundreds.
Soaked in plain water overnight or a little longer and you see the root spear beginning to show … some of them start to open in the water.
I’m always for the cheapest option, as long as it works
These ones are dried peas, sold as eating peas… pea seeds are £4 for 30 , while these are less than £1 for hundreds.
Soaked in plain water overnight or a little longer and you see the root spear beginning to show … some of them start to open in the water.
I’m always for the cheapest option, as long as it works
Perhaps that's what I did... I can't remember much besides the sprout corkscrewing out of the perlite that I sprouted it in.
Thanks for the tip!
No worries mate- another good one is to buy a couple of heirloom Tomatoes in the summer and save the seeds… much cheaper than buying heirloom seeds in packets, and they’ll produce year after year
