I found this information over at Dog News. With the success of the recent Iraqi elections, we need to be aware of all the people--and canines--workin' hard to defeat the enemies of freedom.

(In the interest of full disclosure--since I'm a conservative Republi-canine I have to say this, ya' know, or the lefties will howl--I received no compensation from Kumpi Dog Food for posting this story.)

"Kumpi Cares for Service Dogs in Iraq. When I called Kumpi Dog Food to place an order, Evy Serpa, the president, told me about her company's volunteer efforts to help service dogs working in Iraq:

"These dogs save lives by identifying bombs so that civilians and soldiers are not blown up. The dogs are rarely injured, but the fact remains that every service dog puts its life on the line for its human counterparts. Sadly, many of these dogs are malnourished and starving.

"If you want to donate the best quality dog food, please help Evy's "Kumpi Kares for Iraq" service dogs fund by visiting any Denver metro area Wells Fargo Bank. For more information, call (303) 693-6533.

"To order this quality dog food (which my dogs have personally tested and enjoyed), call Kumpi on its new toll free number: 1-877-465-8674 or go to Kumpi.com. Our dogs have tried both the senior Kumpi food and the regular Kumpi food. My smaller dog's bald spots (from prior surgeries) disappeared after she switched to Kumpi!

"Helping service dogs is nothing new for Kumpi. The company also fed the service dogs which helped dig out the 911 disaster victims!"

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posted by Harrison at 10:47 AM

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Even when I rant I'm right!

Teaching Computers to Read No Simple Task

"Among the handiest villains in science fiction are Computers That Know Too Much. Think of the dream-weaving despots of "The Matrix" or murderous HAL in "2001: A Space Odyssey." But in reality, even the most super supercomputer lacks the reasoning capacity of a child engrossed in a Dr. Seuss book. Computers can't read the way we do. They can't learn or reason like us." [Emphasis mine]

Hell, they can't even read the same code the same way and now they want 'em to read War and Peace? Is it wise to have these things controllin' our nukes? Kinda' like lettin' a cat's paw anywhere near that Red Button.

"Narrowing that cognitive gap between humans and machines - creating a computer that can read and learn at a sophisticated level - is a big goal of artificial intelligence researchers."

Send those guys the latest version of Hooked on Phonics® before they blow us all to kingdom come.

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posted by Harrison at 6:58 PM

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A sincere thank you to those who brought this problem to my attention. Now…

--begin rant--

Deal with it, humans.

Until those two stop lickin' their own balls and come up with a way to make themselves compatible with other browsers, you're gonna' be stuck with the junk you see here.

AHM is not a computer geek. In fact, she's as far from a computer geek as you can imagine--think a galaxy farther than far, far away, okay? She's doin' the best she can to redo the backgrounds. Apparently FF and NS can't read 'em. (In old elementary school terms, they're in the "slow class"--out to lunch in the park 'stead of behind a desk learnin' the three "Rs.")

If someone out there wants to help by explain' why two out of three background images are showin' up and the main one isn't, feel free to email. Otherwise you'll just have to tough it out until AHM slogs her slow way through all the options. We've emailed Blogspot and they're not talkin'. And no, there's no money in the old change purse to upgrade the blogging service.

This was supposed to be fun--not endless hours of frustration tryin' to make every Tom, Dick, and Harry Browser happy.

--end of rant--

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posted by Harrison at 3:39 PM

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I love music as much as the next guy--especially when AHM is playin'. Usually. Most of the time. Sometimes. Okay, I'm not too crazy about listenin' to her practice.

What I can't understand, tho, is the way you humans clamp those weird things around your head and pipe music straight into the old eardrums. Geeze--how can you stand it?--all that shriekin' and screechin' and poundin'. I wanna' howl just thinkin' about it.

Well, since you insist on doing such really dumb stuff, here's an amusin' invention for the canine aficionados among you.

"Sega launches iDog, the musical canine robot...a portable dog shaped speaker. So you could totally hook up your iPod to the iDog to share your music.

"The iDog can express 4 emotions joy, anger, grief and happiness, using its neck, ears and 7 LEDs built into the face to let you know what it is feeling, e.g., when you touch the tail, the iDog gets angry, and makes a cute sound."

Touch my tail and that "cute sound" will be the combination of snapping teeth and shrieking human.

"Looks aside, it does the usual stuff we’ve come to expect from robot pets, like responding “emotionally” to touches to its various sensors. Its main claim to fame is its musical ability, though it’ll improvise tunes based on 720 internal musical phrases, changing the mood of the music as you wave your hand over the phototransistor on its head."

I'd create lots of improvisational tunes if that wavin' hand is holdin' a nice big piece of liver.

"They’ve even included an external audio jack on its hindquarters for you to connect an external player;… And yes, it does waggle its ears and paws in time to the music."

Stick a jack in my hindquarters and I guaran-damn-tee I'll do more than waggle my ears and paws. Just ask my vet.

"According to the Japan Today news site, the four-legged automaton features a number of switches located on its nose and other parts of its diminutive body that are used to create and play music. It has other buttons that cause the pet to light up or express emotions."

Ooooo--I like people pushin' my buttons. Find the right one and I reeeeallly light up and emote like crazy.

"The mechanical beast also features onboard sensors that detect and react to movements when it is held in an owner's hands."

Guess that means you can make it do the back leg scratch if you rub its belly. And no, if you value your button-pushin' fingers, don't even think of tryin' that on me.

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posted by Harrison at 11:56 PM

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…they totally missed Jacksonville. It happens when you've had a few too many gettin' ready to root for your team.

Drunken robins bobbin' along.

"Tampa, FL - Not all are party animals, but a lot of them are here, and some are drunk off their feathers on berries.

"Fun fact No. 1 about robins: They can't hold their berries. In early spring, they'll gorge on overripe mulberries, and get a little tipsy in the process."…

"In fact, robins are not particularly discriminating. They also like Brazilian pepper and carrot-wood berries, two invasive species they are blamed for helping to spread.

[T]hey…occasionally dine on something a little overly ripe for their own good. They'll flock to mulberry bushes for their berries, as well as the bugs they tend to attract. In late winter or early spring, the berries can become intoxicating.

"Sometimes the birds will have one too many," [Rich] Paul [a wildlife biologist] said. "They become a little looped. So it becomes fun to watch them."

Eagles--er--birds of a feather and all that…

Maybe they should share their berries with these guys:

"Like hundreds of other coffee-dependent residents across Phoenix, [Erika Ferrer] couldn't get her Starbucks fix early Wednesday as the city coped with the second day of advisories to boil tap water or use bottled water. Starbucks Corp.banned its Phoenix stores from making any java until the city mandate was lifted and no doubt lost thousands of dollars in sales.

"The city finally lifted the ban around 4 p.m., but that didn't help Ferrer or other java addicts early in the day. "I'm desperate," the 35-year-old Ferrer said around 2:30 p.m. "I told them, 'I don't even care about the water. I'll sign a waiver.' If this goes on tomorrow then I will be upset."

Whatever stirs your kibble.

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posted by Harrison at 10:51 PM

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Paulie at The Commons poses this week's question.

"I've notice that a seemingly large proportion of the blogosphere is composed of "cat bloggers." What are the political parties your cats belong to, and how did you derive their determination? Please reply for each cat, with examples. If you do not own a cat, could you post on how you think cats determine their political affiliations (purely speculative, I know), or why cat owners are such nuts for their cats?

Dog owners: You know dogs are either Greens or Whigs. Please explain the Greenness or Whiggery of your dog(s).

I am one of only two Homespun Bloggers (to date) completely qualified to answer this question since all other bloggers are humans speaking for their live-in animals. I, of course, thanks to my superior intellect, speak for myself (as even Glenn Reynolds notes).

This question is about a topic I've covered previously and written about extensively. There are Republi-canines and Demo-cats. Rather self-explanatory isn't it? However, I'm always willing to repeat myself until you humans get it right--and I'm not goin' away 'til you do.

Now, I'm not at all sure why Paulie--for whom I had the greatest respect--thinks dogs are either Greens or Whigs. (Guess I'll have to write it off to Stockholm Syndrome--too many years held hostage by fe-lyings.) Canines are not environmentally conscious--just consider the amount of holes my less fastidious brethren dig or how thoroughly we can obliterate any landscape--natural or planned--if engaged in hot fe-lyin' pursuit.

As for Whiggery… Hardly! Canines are very much advocates of strong executive leadership. Power disperses outward through the pack with each member having certain responsibilities, but the direction of those activities comes from the Alpha. The Apha Human, of course, is the undisputed President. Without an Alpha there is anarchy. Or a fe-lyin' paradise. Same thing. And don't forget we choose our Alphas, human or canine. (You Omega Humans know who you are. You're the ones who get our best Robert DeNiro impression whenever you're foolish enough to boss us around. "You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me?")

As for fe-lyings… Well, they're the ultimate welfare queens--livin' off the fat of the land. And packin' it on, too. There's a reason the expression "fat cat" is not a term of endearment, ya' know. They'll ignore you while they live under your roof, eat your food, barf on your bed, leave hair on your sweaters and dead rodents in your shoes. Then they'll demand your attention at the most inconvenient time and claw your butt to ribbons if they don't get it.

And if that doesn't sound like a Demo-cat I don't know what does!

Other Commentary: Ogre's Politics and Views; Ruah; The Commons at Paulie World; The Redhunter; Secure Liberty; Dagney's Rant; Nixon's Memoirs.

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posted by Harrison at 11:57 PM

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'Tho my Dad climbed trees.

"A dog fell off a downtown high rise and was rescued by a mountain climber who propelled down a building to reach it…

"Richie is a 2½-year-old mixed breed dog. Earlier this month, Richie and his owner, Julia Kastner, were hanging out on the roof of a friend's apartment when the unthinkable happened. "I lost track of him for a second. He fell three stories to another person's balcony. We couldn't get to him because this person was out of town," Kastner said. "He was cold and in pain and terrified. He's never felt pain like that before."

"After three hours, Kastner still could not reach Richie since there was no access to the balcony. So a friend used his mountaineering skills in a way he never expected. "My friend drove across town to get rock climbing gear out of storage and he repelled down the side of the building to get Richie," Kastner said.

"The dog was rushed to an emergency clinic where Dr. William Daly operated on it. Richie suffered from major fractures… Daly said the dog is recovering well."

My Dad climbed trees. Don't think he meant to, though. See, he was tryin' to chase a fe-lyin' out of our yard and naturally the litter clump went up the oak tree instead.

Now this was a real old tree and the trunk sloped like a freeway on ramp. Cat ran up the trunk. Dad ran up the trunk. Tough to tell who was more surprised--Dad when he realized what he'd done or the fe-lyin' who spun around to spit out a few taunts and came whiskers to incisors with a tree-climbin' terrier.

The standin' broad jump record was broken that day, trust me on that. Rocky the Flyin' Squirrel had nothin' on that fe-lyin'. It sailed off the nearest branch, soared through the air space over half the yard, and just skimmed the top of the fence before streakin' away across the field toward the lurkin' grounds of the local coyote pack. (We didn't tell 'em that part.)

Now Dad was in a mess. We were all lined up watchin' from the porch and the Alpha Dog Dignity was at stake. (Alpha Human Mom wasn't any help--she was too busy cleanin' herself up after snortin' soda out her nose.) A bunch of branches joined together to make a kind of shelf where the confrontation took place, so Dad turned himself around and figured he'd just walk right back down again. Worked fine until he hit that patch of loose bark.

Dad learned to ski that day. Sort of. He only went about two and a half feet before he bailed out. Luckily there was a pile of leaves around the base of the tree.

The weird thing is, in the end he liked it. He was always tryin' to chase the local ranch fe-lyings up that tree just so he could go after 'em. All in all, his little trick probably accounted for about three lives per cat for every fe-lyin' in a five mile radius.

Just takin' care of business.

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posted by Harrison at 12:34 AM

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No, not me. This guy in San Francisco.

Make Public Dog Sex Legal

"Why does San Francisco, the supposed home of equal rights, continue to discriminate against dogs that make love in the park?"

Frankly, I like a bit more privacy. And ya' never know what sort of--um--discomforts ya' might pick up humpin' just any ole' bitch. What if she's a canine Nancy Pelosi? Then where would ya' be?

"It was kind of perverse, as everyone seemed to be reveling in the sexual act between the two dogs," my wife recalls. "But I had to laugh, too. I couldn't control myself."

Yeah, lady. What you don't know is, we laugh at you too. Remember that the next time you get those matress springs squeakin'.

"It doesn't have to be this way. In my day there were parks, riverbeds, alleyways, and railway beds where dogs could meet, hook up, and make love obscured from the embarrassing gaze of human beings. Sadly, in San Francisco, spaces of this sort are off limits to animal love, thanks to a blue law in the city's Health Code that says it's illegal for animals to "breed on public property,"…

No mention of blue laws restrictin' humans--and if there ever was a bunch of humans that needed to be restricted from propagatin' it's San Franciscans.

[Continued in Read the Rest!]

"You can imagine my pleasure, therefore, when I noticed a package of legislation on last week's Board of Supervisors agenda aimed at improving the lives of San Francisco dogs… And I was ecstatic when I learned the dog-law package was sponsored by Supervisor Bevan Dufty, ordinarily an open-minded person when it comes to issues regarding sexual freedom. It turns out, however, that Dufty's supposed dog sop is not really very humane at all, as it leaves the anti-humping statute on the books…"

Does that mean humans can't do it "doggy style" any more? Talk about uncontrolled laughin'…

"A call to DogPac, the S.F. political action committee that advocates for dog rights, went unreturned. Sensing no outrage from the animal rights community, I decided to directly confront Friedman, the man responsible for enforcing the dog anti-sex laws.

"The first thing I wanted to know was whether the vague, no-"breed" ban prohibits all forms of dog sexual expression, some of which even the worst anti- animal-sex prude would have to admit are harmless. "Dogs will hump your leg. I would not consider that a violation of Section 41.12 of the city Health Code," noted Friedman,…"

All depends on what "dog" you're talkin' about. If it's Dianne Feinstein… well… that should definitely be a Health Code violation.

"What's more, Friedman argued in the anti-public-sex law's defense, my concern about my neighbors' dogs' potential embarrassment was misplaced. "Not only do they not give a damn, they would be more than pleased to mate anytime, anywhere, anyplace," Friedman asserted…"

Speak for yourself, buster.

"That may or may not be so. But I think it's still sad that a Mecca of free sexual expression would have no place for a pet that fancies a secret shag in the park."

Hump--er--Up the revolution!

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posted by Harrison at 8:04 PM

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The Jinx is either real or it's not. (Machelle at Quality Weenie assures me--from personal experience--such things are, btw.) There's nothin' I can do about it.

So. You can stop the email span now. Why you Philly fans care, I don't know, unless you've got a massive in-state inferiority complex… And as for That New England Fan Person who's thinkin' about hirin' a messenger service to show up at the door and sing the score--be warned we're armed to the teeth and know how to use 'em. (Fans bearing bags of cash, however, are always welcome.)

Actually the idea of sellin' The Jinx on Ebay is soundin' better and better--especially when ya' consider this guy's sellin' his left nut for a measly tractor. Bet that Jets kicker wishes he had thought of that…

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posted by Harrison at 11:35 PM

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Canine does "color" commentary.

"A stink was raised during halftime of the Detroit Pistons-Orlando Magic NBA game on Tuesday night when the start of the second half was delayed by three minutes after a seeing-eye dog relieved itself on the court.

"When the Pistons came out for warmups, Rasheed Wallace walked up to the lane where the excrement had fallen, stopped and stared in disbelief."

That's a warnin' if I ever heard one. Too bad the Pistons didn't pay attention.

"Steve Francis scored 32 points and Hedo Turkoglu added a season-high 29 as the Orlando Magic snapped the Detroit Pistons' six-game winning streak with a 103-101 victory Tuesday night."

Dug up at Brain Shavings.

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posted by Harrison at 5:25 PM

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This post is dedicated to Bill at Leaning Toward the Dark Side and (to a lesser extent) Michele at A Small Victory, both of 'em takin' the Jets breakdown at Pittsburgh harder than I used to take losin' at a dog show. Bill seems a bit more disgruntled of the two, but condsiderin' they had to endure the Yankee's spectacular collapse just a few months ago I'll cut 'em some slack. Plus, they had no way of knowin' about The Jinx.

AHM is The Jinx. At least that's what she claims and I gotta' say some pretty strange things happened this football season. It's a real simple jinx--if AHM watches, listens to, or even hears about an ongoing Steeler game, Pittsburgh will lose. Weird, huh? But sports fans are weird anyway. (How else do you explain the "Terrible Towel?")

AHM's only watched one Steeler game this season. Yeah, you guessed it--the disasterous second game of the season. There were a bunch of reasons we couldn't see 'em play--not livin' in Pittsburgh and dependin' on the national media is one, of course. But for one reason or another she didn't get any information about the games--on-line or elsewhere--and the Steelers started winnin'. The first time she seriously tested her theory was on Halloween--when undefeated, high-flyin' NE first landed in Pittsburgh. Hmmmm… Coulda' been a fluke, right? Okay--next week came the undefeated Eagles. Two in a row would be near impossible for a rookie QB, right? Uh oh… By the end of that game AHM was convinced.

Do we think she's strange? 'Course we do--she's a human, after all. But it was getting' curiousier and curiousier. Durin' the second Steelers-Ravens game her special friend (who was out of town) sent her an email givin' her the score. Man, you would have thought the roof fell in from all the swearin' goin' on. We just found a safe distance to watch the show. Later we found out that immediately after that email was sent/received, Ben what's-his-name went down with a rib injury.

Oops.

The jinx confirmation--at least in the convoluted passageways of AHM's mind--was the last game of the season. Third string Steeler players versus first string Bills at Buffalo. Ya' know what happened. Now she was getting' really weird.

Then there was last Saturday. AHM played with the lay-out of my blog to avoid watchin'/hearin'/readin' about the game. Pissed me off no end, but there was no way I was gonna' complain considerin' the mood she was in. This time her special friend called before the end of the game. (He's from NE so he obiously had ulterior motives. I tell ya', AHM's gotta' start pickin' 'em better. The last guy was a Raiders fan!) Anyway, I guess he tried to say somethin' 'cause she kept sayin' "Don't tell me, don't tell me!" reeeeal loud.

Doug Brien didn't have a prayer.

Later AHM's friend said he called just before the second kick 'cause he thought the game was over. Ha! Don't mess with a jinxy woman, buster.

Are we buyin' this jinx business? I'm not answerin' that one--'cept to say it's gotta' be a really stupid jinx when ya' can't watch your favorite sports team. Still…

Speakin' of buyin', maybe AHM should sell her jinx on E-bay. Hey, if some idiot's gonna' buy a ghost there's gotta' be a bunch of NE fans willin' to pay AHM to actually watch the AFC Championship game Sunday night. Just in case the jinx is real. Yeah, yeah--we know NE's out for revenge and all that. But so are the Steelers. Remember 2001?

We know you're wonderin'. And after last week, should ya' risk it? Can ya' risk it? He, he, he…

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posted by Harrison at 1:37 PM

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As you can tell, obsessive-complusive Alpha Human Mom has been playing with the template instead of letting me surf and post. Sorry for the Blogroll update that wasn't a real update.

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posted by Harrison at 11:54 PM

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When I was a pup in California I liked playin' whack-a-gopher. Not the game you humans play at an arcade with the rodents poppin' out of holes while you pummel 'em with a club--or the on line version. No, this was honest-to-god whack the actual gopher dead.

Gophers are pretty much worthless, rootin' around underground as if they had somethin' important to do when all they really do is create an unholy mess. They eat crops and plants, gnaw on tree roots, screw up irrigation troughs, and leave mounds and tunnels everywhere just so an unsuspecting cow or horse or human can step in 'em and break an ankle. Some of 'em even chew on underground cables and pipes which can get real expensive real fast.

Maybe they do some good things, too, but those things are few and far in between.

My dad had a special technique for gopher-whacking. None of that burrowing-down-to-their-nest routine like ordinary terriers. No, my dad believed in usin' brains instead of brawn and was big on maintaining his natty appearance by lettin' the other guy do all the grunt work. So down we'd go into the pasture, followin' the sound of munchin' and diggin', until we located the entrance mound. Then we'd sit by the opening.

And sit... And sit... Sit still... Sit real still... Real, real still. If ya' hopped around, Dad would smack ya' silly.

All those gophers were busy with their dirty work underground, scurryin' hither and yon, squeakin' and snufflin' among themselves as if what they said mattered one LiverSnap®. It was only a matter of time until they got arrogant enough to poke their stupid snouts out of the hole, then bingo! Dad would nail 'em. (And Harold Ramis passed on him when castin' Caddyshack.)

That gopher-whackin' kinda' reminds me of what President Bush (and other Republi-canines) do to Demo-cats. The President makes his proposals then just sits there real quiet--waitin' for all the fools to pop up.

First there was Senator Boxer and Representative Conyers pretendin' to be statespersons. After that came Ted Kennedy and Patrick Leahy pretendin' to be Senators.

Close behind was this Dem crew. [Dug up at Never Sway.]

"A News Tribune article suggests that enough evidence has been gathered by the GOP in Washington’s governors’ race to possibly invalidate the election:"

And bringin' up the rear (where they belong) are these fe-lyings. [Dug up at Mr. Minority's.]

"A federal PAC calling itself "Patriots For Gore" released a statement this week calling Al Gore the "rightful president of 2000" and announcing that they're investigating "if there is a legal and constitutional way to restore that term to Vice President Gore."

I could never figure out why those gophers didn't know Dad and me were waitin' for 'em. Can't figure out why Demo-cats don't know the same thing.

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posted by Harrison at 2:30 AM

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Ya' know it's bad enough people are tryin' to dumb down humans, but now they're gonna' try to dumb down dumb animals.

Naughty dogs are 'smarter'

That kinda' depends upon your definition of "naughty," of course.

"If your dog tears up your living room every time you go out, it might just be showing signs of genius, visiting British expert and author Jan Fennell says."

That's naughty. And the canine might well be a genius--compared to the idiots who left 'em alone with a perfectly good stuffed sofa.

"Known as "The Dog Listener", Miss Fennell says delinquent dogs are far from irredeemable: "The naughtier they are, the more intelligent they are and they aren't going to be pushed around by an idiot."

See above reference re: owners, lonely dogs, and sofas.

"Miss Fennell, who owns 12 dogs, said she was upset by the "growing use of gadgets" to control dogs, such as choke chains, harnesses and shock collars."

She's right there. Those "naughty" dogs are soundin' smarter by the second. AHM never needs that kind of stuff. One look is worse than any shock collar you can imagine. (That and no cookies at bedtime.)

"Her career as a dog listener began after she saw Monty Roberts, the American "horse whisperer", at work in 1989. "It just inspired me, I can't begin to tell you."

Bet her banker could tell us. Not a whisper of the real secret, though. It's not the canines that need trainin'--it's the humans.

"A court in Italy has ordered a man to pay maintenance to his divorced wife for their pet dog. The woman, not been named for legal reasons, took her former husband to court in the north-eastern town of Udine after he refused to give money towards her canine expenses.

"She said: "He has to pay maintenance for our two children, so why shouldn't he pay for the care of our dog Pepi, which we bought together. With food and vet bills a dog can cost almost as much as a child to raise."

Yeah, but you can't stick a kid in a Kennel Cab® while you party.

A Brazilian company is launching a chewing gum for dogs. Pet care firm Chiclet is selling the gum in shops all over the country, reports Terra Noticias Populares. It is being marketed under the slogan: "Your pet's dog breath will soon be gone."

"Chiclet says the gum, which looks like a bone and is made of edible leather, also helps to de-stress the pets and to clean their teeth."

I'm not too sure about this one. I remember when Stupid Heddy got into the trash and hauled out a pre-chewed wad of Silly Human Female's Double Bubble®. There must have been a lot of chewin' stuff left in it, 'cause she got it stuck on her molars and worked on it forever. Every time she opened her mouth you could see pink rubbery strands connectin' her jaws. She gnawed. She smacked. She flapped her tongue. She twisted her neck sideways and shook her head. She snorted. She pawed her face. She finally swallowed about half of it, but got the rest all over her paw. 'Course then she shrieked like a banshee when it had to be cut out of her hair. It was distressin', all right.

We followed Heddy around for days waitin' to see how that gum came out the other end.

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posted by Harrison at 11:42 PM

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Memo to self #1: find out if they make canine aspirin.

What a headache I have. Oh, not from a hangover. (You think Alpha Human Mom would give us liquor? Are you nuts?) No, this headache was incurred in the line of duty. So where's my purple heart already?

It's been so warm these days AHM has been leavin' the windows and doors open. Now when she does that, Little Girl likes to shove open the screen door and it doesn't always close. Around here open door equals uninvited guests--anything from birds to frogs to bats. (Yeah, you read that right.)

This time, though, it was a mouse. A dumb mouse.

There we were--relaxin' and watching some silly show on TV. We were dozin' (since we can't see the picture real well) and makin' comments in appropriate places--like doorbells ringin', dogs barkin', fe-lyings yowlin', that sort of stuff--when I looked up from my chair to see a mouse tiptoein' across the room. Really. A tiptoein' mouse. It wasn't scurryin' like mice do--it was up on its little toes takin' one careful step at a time. Smart move when you're tryin' to navigate a roomful of terriers! Stupid move to come into the room to start with, but, hey, fe-lyings catch 'em all the time, so how smart can mice be anyway?

It was fascinatin' to watch it. I looked over at AHM who was watchin'. AHM glanced at me with that "do something" frown. We looked down at the kids who were sprawled in a pile. No one moved--except the mouse who kept right on tiptoein' along the hearth. Frankly I might have let 'em go, figgerin' it would wander out on its own. Mouse would have made it too--if it hadn't sneezed.

It was a very tiny sneeze, but a sneeze it definitely was. The mouse bounced with the effort--all four feet off the ground. And Hem heard it. Then he saw it. Unfortunately he was lyin' on his back at the time and saw it upside down. We're fast, but startin' with a disadvantage like that, you're not out of the blocks real quick.

Hem flipped over and lunged toward the mouse. I launched from the chair which got everyone else up and racing behind us, even though I doubt they had a clue just what we were after. The mouse chose speed over stealth (which was pretty much gone with the sneeze anyway), shot out of the studio, down the hall, and into the living room.

Now if you know anything about mouse-chasin' you'll know mice never take the quickest way across a room, i.e. the open space in the middle. They know we'll be on 'em in a New York minute in the open field. So, mouse enters living room and executes a sharp right to run around the edges. We figure we'll trap it under the desk in the corner and followed right after.

Memo to self #2: stupidest mouse can make right turn on hardwood floors a lot faster than dogs with claws…

By the time we untangled, the mouse had done a loop-de-loop around the circular coffee table, navigated its way under the corner desk, and was makin' a break for the dining room. We were in full voice, spread out line abreast headin' through the archway--with AHM and LG as rear guard--and figured we had that little sucker cold.

Mouse made abrupt left into the kitchen.

Memo to self #3: mass of dog pack exceeds width of kitchen doorway.

One more collision and we were gonna' be fightin' each other.

I took the lead and saw the little sneak aimin' for the cabinet under the sink. The door was barely ajar but enough for a skinny little rodent to squeeze through and into the narrow gap around the drain pipe.

Memo to self #4: small mouse can get into places we can't.

That's the sort of thing you don't remember when you're in full chase mode and intent on makin' that pest pay for invadin' your space.

Memo to self #5: rag throw rugs are called "rag throw rugs" for a reason.

We created a pile up worthy of rush hour on the 405 in Los Angeles. My nose was jammed into the crack of the door or I would have taken out whichever of my pups ran up my butt. Luckily AHM was on the spot 'cause the girls started bitchin' among themselves about who let the mouse get away and needed to be sprayed down. Convenient things those sink sprayers.

Memo to AHM: Buy mouse traps!

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posted by Harrison at 12:03 AM

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I feel so used. First I get an invite from a lady to contribute to her weekly "Carnival of Sin," which makes me wonder if she's actually read this site, and now I discover my name is being bandied about at a bondage forum! Bondage? Must be someone with a leash fetish.

(What? You expect links? This is a family blog.)


Then again, maybe they're just lookin' for a handsome accessory (scroll down) to squire 'em around town.

"Starlets like Britney Spears, Jessica Simpson and Paris Hilton have been seen carrying little dogs with them everywhere they go. I always thought this was something that more matronly celebs did. You know, dog-as-ultimate-fashion-accessory. A tiny dog combines the best qualities of a quiet husband and a gaudy brooch."

I don't do starlets.

'Course if I was into wearnin' a dogthong I could understand the interest--long as they didn't know why.

"Pet and dog odor from flatulence are a thing of the past. DOGGIE DIAPER MODEL AND A THONG MODEL

"These pads use a high tech filtering media that was originally developed for the British Chemical Defense Establishment, to provide protection to its soldiers against nerve gas and other toxic vapors associated with chemical warfare. Activated charcoal cloth is well known in the medical field for eliminating odors in liquids and gases."

You humans do realize if you buy one of those things ya' can't "blame it on the dog" any more?


Speaking of family--American WarMonger's grandma sent him a great "female canine" joke. 'Course it's about a poodle…


And last, for those of you feeling left out of the last round of blog awards (ahem), here's a second or third--or fourth, I've lost count--chance. The 2005 Bloggies.

Still no category for other-than-human blogs aka dog blogs. Bigots. Go nominate the Homespun Bloggers as Best Community Blog anyway.

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posted by Harrison at 1:12 AM

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Don't Forget to Do What You Can for Tsunami Victims

I'm gonna' donate a box of Liver Snaps® for this canine to add to AHM's few dollars.

"India (AP) ''Run away!'' her husband screamed from a rooftop after he spotted the colossal waves. The command was simple but it presented Sangeeta with a dilemma: She had three sons, and only two arms.

"She grabbed the youngest two and ran figuring the oldest, 7-year-old Dinakaran, had the best chance of outrunning the tsunami churning toward her home. But Dinakaran didn't follow. He headed for the safest place he knew, the small family hut just 40 yards from the seashore.

"Sangeeta thought she would never see him again. The family dog saw to it that she did. While water lapped at Sangeeta's heels as she rushed up the hill, the scruffy yellow dog named Selvakumar ducked into the hut after Dinakaran. Nipping and nudging, he did everything in his canine power to get the boy up the hill.

[…]

"Dinakaran credits the dog with saving his life. ''That dog grabbed me by the collar of my shirt,'' the boy said from under some trees at Pondicherry University, where the family is waiting for relief. ''He dragged me out.''

"Sangeeta said she wept with joy when she saw her son walking up to her, with Selvakumar by his side. The Tamils of south India believe that talking about the death of a living person can make it so, so Sangeeta didn't want to mull over her decision or speculate how she would have felt had her son not survived. She did say that she believes some special spirit, perhaps her brother-in-law's, resides in the young yellow dog.

''That dog is my God,'' said Sangeeta with Dinakaran sitting on the ground at her feet and Selvakumar sleeping on the warm asphalt next to him."

Cats nap while dogs come through. Which reminds me…

Wonder how much George Soros and Michael Moore have contributed?

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posted by Harrison at 11:55 AM

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