Name:Harrison Location:United States

The Original Lovable Little Fuzzball

Here's the straight stuff.

The adventures of Harrison are true.
Try a few of his Crunchy Bites for a taste.
--Alpha Human Mom

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Why Dogs Don't Climb Mountains

'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.

posted by Harrison at 12:34 AM


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