Holy Mackerel!
Now fish are takin' up terrrorism.
I don't fishin'. In fact, I generally don't do water aside from the required baths which I tolerate only because I've discovered 130 lb. human female pretty much trumps a 20 lb. terrier, teeth notwithstandin'.
There was a time, tho', when my curiosity led me astray. Okay, there've been lots of times my curiosity led me astray, but I generally don't make the same mistake twice.
Some years back, after Dad had finished swannin' around the lawn at the Lodge at Pebble Beach dog show, AHM and us went for our usual drive along Seventeen Mile Drive. There're places along the way where you can park and walk the beach--'tho by now I'm sure CA has put some regulation in place that ruins the fun we used to have. Anyway, the oldsters minced along, actin' like city slickers walkin' through a cow pasture, but since we were alone, AHM let a couple of us pups off the leash and we promptly headed out to check all the good stuff we could see decoratin' the rocks.
Naturally I discovered tidal pools. Interestin' things, tidal pools, full of strange stuff wigglin' and squirmin' and skitterin' around. Grand Dam Bitch had warned us about squirmin' and skitterin' things on beaches--havin' learned the hard way durin' a long-ago trip to the Outer Banks and an unfortunate encounter with a sand crab.
Well, I thought I was safe--no sand crabs here--and I was just standin' on a rock, for cryin' out loud. Just standin' and starin'…standin' and starin' and stretchin' down to take a good sniff at all those wigglin', squirmin', skitterin' thingys…
It was at that point I learned a combination of water and kelp make slime--aka slippery crap. Immediately after that point I learned rocks are hard with nowhere to dig in your claws when you start to slide. Subsequent lessons: tidal pools are deeper than ya' think; they're full of salt water; those wigglin', skitterin' thingys are much less fascinatin' when they're squirmin' up your nose; and AHM has a perverted sense of humor.
Long term lessons: dryin' salt water plus sand makes your skin itch, your fur stiff and spiky, and you stink--like a dead fish--parts of which I was probably wearin'. I had the back seat all to myself on the way to the motel while everyone else crammed into the front with AHM. For the first (and only) time I reeeaaallly wanted a bath.
I feel his pain…
posted by Harrison at 10:14 PM
"In a fishy tale with a different ending, an Australian angler on Tuesday described how a five-foot [30 kilogram] mackerel jumped into his boat, knocked him down and injured him - and then got away.
Glen Hopper [who was fishing on the Mooloolah River] said he suffered bruised ribs and cuts to his face and arms when the 1.5 metre mackerel flattened him in what he dubbed a case of "fishy's revenge".
I don't fishin'. In fact, I generally don't do water aside from the required baths which I tolerate only because I've discovered 130 lb. human female pretty much trumps a 20 lb. terrier, teeth notwithstandin'.
There was a time, tho', when my curiosity led me astray. Okay, there've been lots of times my curiosity led me astray, but I generally don't make the same mistake twice.
Some years back, after Dad had finished swannin' around the lawn at the Lodge at Pebble Beach dog show, AHM and us went for our usual drive along Seventeen Mile Drive. There're places along the way where you can park and walk the beach--'tho by now I'm sure CA has put some regulation in place that ruins the fun we used to have. Anyway, the oldsters minced along, actin' like city slickers walkin' through a cow pasture, but since we were alone, AHM let a couple of us pups off the leash and we promptly headed out to check all the good stuff we could see decoratin' the rocks.
Naturally I discovered tidal pools. Interestin' things, tidal pools, full of strange stuff wigglin' and squirmin' and skitterin' around. Grand Dam Bitch had warned us about squirmin' and skitterin' things on beaches--havin' learned the hard way durin' a long-ago trip to the Outer Banks and an unfortunate encounter with a sand crab.
Well, I thought I was safe--no sand crabs here--and I was just standin' on a rock, for cryin' out loud. Just standin' and starin'…standin' and starin' and stretchin' down to take a good sniff at all those wigglin', squirmin', skitterin' thingys…
It was at that point I learned a combination of water and kelp make slime--aka slippery crap. Immediately after that point I learned rocks are hard with nowhere to dig in your claws when you start to slide. Subsequent lessons: tidal pools are deeper than ya' think; they're full of salt water; those wigglin', skitterin' thingys are much less fascinatin' when they're squirmin' up your nose; and AHM has a perverted sense of humor.
Long term lessons: dryin' salt water plus sand makes your skin itch, your fur stiff and spiky, and you stink--like a dead fish--parts of which I was probably wearin'. I had the back seat all to myself on the way to the motel while everyone else crammed into the front with AHM. For the first (and only) time I reeeaaallly wanted a bath.
"It felt like I'd just run into a brick wall, because I was going 20 knots one way and it was speeding the opposite direction," Hopper, from Queensland state's Sunshine Coast, told the Australian Associated Press. "I remember it coming out the water and the next thing I knew I'm in the back of the boat winded, trying to get my breath."
I feel his pain…
posted by Harrison at 10:14 PM
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