Ya' ever check out a dog tongue? Mostly you humans spend your time gettin' out of lickin' range, so ya' probably don't. Can't say I'm an authority, 'cept about mine (and LG's who's part Chow so she's got a weird purple, Gorbachev-splotch on hers).

In our famiy we have very long tongues, 'specially when you consider our size. Havin' a long tongue's important 'cause there's no other way to lick out the good stuff remainin' at the bottom of the peanut butter jar or the yogurt carton. It's also good for lickin' noses, private parts, and human toes. That last is really fun after AHM's been lyin' in the hot sun for a while. In fact, our tongues are so long, we'd probably smack ourselves in the eyeball if we weren't careful.

Of course it's great for when you're tryin' to avoid swallowin' any medicine AHM is tryin' to give. One good brwaaaappzth! can shoot a pill five feet or more. With practice you can ricochet that little white sucker into most anything--the toilet bein' the preferred target. 'Course AHM knows the trick to medicine-givin', so we reserve our expertise for more gullible prey. Like Silly Human Female.

SHF is one of those people who always thinks she knows how to do somethin' even if she's never done it before. Accordin' to her, how hard can it be givin' a little dog some medicine?

Battle stations!

Continued in Read the Rest!

When she was still around, SHF had a really nice bedroom, with a real fancy white rug, a fancy bed cover and freshly painted walls. One mornin' Grand Dam Bitch woke up with an upset tummy and, without AHM around to ask, SHF called the vet--who recommended a dose of Pepto-Bismol®. (Canines can take lots of human-type medicine, but fe-lyings can't, so be careful.)

Okay. Out came the famous billious pink bottle--and a spoon. Yep. A spoon. SHF took Grand Dam into her bedroom and up on her bed, settin' her down on the almost-brand-new, very-expensive, white-flowered comforter. I was only a pup, but me and my littermates had to supervise this operation. We knew right off this was gonna' be one of the Great Moments in Dog Time. If we could have figured out that opposable thumbs issue, you woulda' seen it on America's Funniest Home Videos.

So there we were, all lined up on that thick, soft, fancy white rug in the bedroom with white walls just waitin' as SHF measured out a baby-sized dose of Pepto-Bismol®. On a spoon. She pried Grand Dam's mouth open (not a tough job considerin' she'll open her mouth for anythin' closely resemblin' food) and poured in the Pepto. SHF looked suitably pleased with herself.

We just looked. And waited.

Five…four…three…two…one…

Brwaaaappzth!

I've heard detectives study the spray splatter of certain kinds of murders to figure out exactly what happened at the scene. Well, if they had shown up that day they woulda' thought every Mary Kaye rep within a hundred miles had just exploded.

Since most of us got it right in the ole' kisser, we did what dogs are supposed to do--we rubbed it off on the rug. Rubbed and rolled and snorted and sneezed then rolled and rubbed some more. We had that pink crap spread from one end of the room to the other in no time. In fact, when we were finished, we had created a masterpiece in the best Jackson Pollock tradition--a fitting companion to the newly decorated pink polka-dot walls.

SHF was not amused, if her yellin' was anything to judge by. I think it took her a week to clean up the mess and neither the rug nor the comforter ever looked quite normal again. And she never got rid of the Pepto-Bismol® smell.

AHM, on the other paw, was so amused she laughed 'til snot came out her nose and she nearly choked. At least she did 'til she realized every one of us was now in serious need of a bath. Then none of us were amused.

But we did learn what the expression "gag me with a spoon" meant.

P.S. Silly Human Female eventually took off for Tennessee. At last we know why.

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posted by Harrison at 6:51 PM

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Just in case they were feelin' superior after my last post about looney dog owners, I present… cat acupuncture.

"Buffy likes to eat lunch while he gets acupuncture."

Right off the bat you know ole' Buff's human is a Demo-cat. Ever notice how über-liberal Demo-cats always name their pets (and sometimes their kids) "Buffy" or "Muffy" or "Fluffy" or "Tipper?" They go straight for the cute. None of them ever consider we might like a good solid name like "Ferdinand" or "Gracie." Or "Harrison."

"The house cat licks a china plate of organic beef and vegetables with 10 tiny needles sticking into his furry spine. Buffy is undergoing acupuncture treatments at Catzablanca Cat Clinic and Hospital to ease his 18-year-old arthritic spine and hips."

Catzablanca? That ranks right up there with Miss Daisy's Dog Camp. Ya' know it's only got a fancy name so the owners can charge fancy prices.

"I see animals I can't help with Western medicine," said [veterinarian Linda] Dupont, one of about 13 veterinary acupuncturists in [CT], certified by the International Veterinary Acupuncture Society.

"After four 20-minute treatments at $65 a session, a $50 consultation and the initial $125 visit, Buffy, who is 88 in human years, acts a little perkier, said his owner, Lori Young. "I think it's helping. He looks out the window now and grooms himself," said Young, of Manchester."

$260 + $50 + $125 = $435. Just so an octogenarian fe-lyin' can lick his butt.

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posted by Harrison at 1:42 PM

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I'll tell ya'--some humans are skatin' closer and closer to the razor's edge of insanity.

"Houston, TX-- Mari Lawson worried that Cousteau, her Great Dane, lacked social skills. So she tried to get him admitted to Urban Tails, a day-care center that encourages dogs to mingle and play. Ms. Lawson could hardly believe the admissions process. She had to fill out a four-page "dog personality profile," in which she disclosed that Cousteau barks at the mailman and dislikes "bums with shopping carts." She also wrote he has "sharing issues." He becomes "aggressive with toys and other dogs."

Just a small note here. A Great Dane is called "great" because they're effin' huge--the Incredible Hulk of dogdom. They don't have to have social skills or worry about "sharing issue" 'cause whatever they want they can have as far as I'm concerned. Just waggin' their tails could be called an aggressive act if you're a small dog standin' at the wrong end of a Great Dane.

Now Cousteau (and someone tell me why the woman named her dog after a scrawny little Frenchman?) gets an A+ in my book for dislikin' "bums with shopping carts." He's just doin' his job, you silly woman--protectin' you from derelicts, would-be muggers, and thieves. That is his personality profile.

"At the start of his interview, Cousteau failed to impress, leaving a puddle on the floor of Urban Tails' lobby. And he still awaited the heart of the evaluation: a "peer session" with other dogs that would test his "temperament" with sniffs, licks and the occasional roll on the ground. "I'm freaking out," said Ms. Lawson, a small-business consultant. "I feel like we're trying to get Cousteau into college here."

I figure Cousteau is already smarter than his owner--he's doin' what comes naturally. If Ms. Lawson freaks out, the odds are reeaaallly good Cousteau will join her. And you do not want to see a freaked out Great Dane.

"More doggie day cares actually are starting to take their cues from Harvard and Yale. They are instituting rigorous admissions standards as they strive to put together classes or play groups of well-behaved animals that don't growl, nip or bite."

PC dogdom. Geeze! Wise up you blithering idiots. Dogs are territorial. We see a flower bed we like, it's ours, so keep your damn pansy-rootin' nose out. We're gonna' disagree (with malice aforethought) whatever you humans say--'specially when we're all let loose to run in a yard. That's why God created water hoses.

"Day cares, selective and otherwise, are multiplying as more two-career families are unwilling to leave their pets home alone all day…"

Bit of free advice. If you're not gonna' be home all day--don't get a dog that will eat the sofa for a mid-afternoon snack! In fact--don't get a dog at all.

"Unlike kennels, which tend to keep dogs in solitary confinement most of the time, day cares promote mixing on lawns or in big playrooms because it enriches their social lives. Of course, that freedom can lead to mayhem if the dogs aren't carefully screened…

We do our own version of screenin'. It's called "findin' the Alpha dog and kissin' their butt." No human is gonna' make an Alpha dog play nice-nice with an Omega dog. This isn't the friggin' UN, people--'tho we are susceptible to bribes.

"Nearby, in Tomball [TX], three other candidates vied for admission to Miss Daisy's Dog Camp: Ghillie, an exuberant wheaten terrier; Molly, a laid-back cocker spaniel; and Chablis, a dainty bichon frisé… After an hour, Debbie Oliver, who runs the day care with her husband, Duane, broke the bad news to Ghillie's owner. "We can't take the chance she might hurt a little dog," Ms. Oliver said, adding that wheatens tend to be stubborn and ill-suited to day care. Ghillie's owner, Ann Hester, had suspected her dog might not make the cut. "She's not gifted," Ms. Hester said."

And Ms. Hester is not gifted with brains.

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posted by Harrison at 8:36 PM

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Indiana Jones whipped into shape

"The man's getting closer and closer to regaining his hat."

And losin' whatever credibility he still has left.

"There's good news for those awaiting the long-awaited fourth "Indiana Jones" movie - franchise creators' Steven Spielberg and George Lucas have given it's script a fat thumbs up."

Huh?--"awaiting the long-awaited"? Did this guy write the script for the most recent Star Wars?

"With everything Jedi behind him, Lucas asked screenwriter Jeff Nathanson to his compound to go through the draft. Uncle George apparently liked what he saw, as did Spielberg…"

You wanna' trust the decision makin' skills of a guy who cried at the end of ROTS? We're doomed…

"Both beards hope to have "Indiana Jones 4" filming in early 2006 - Spielberg's got a full plate, so it'll be interesting to see how he fits this in - but have to wait until Harrison Ford approves of the script before hiring a catering van."

Menudo van, ya' mean. The man craves menudo. (I’m not talkin' the boy band, here, although considerin' the physical profile of Calista Flockhart I might be wrong). Even I don't like menudo--and I used to eat jalapeño peppers! 'Course maybe his geriatric digestive system isn't up to all that tripe, hominy, chili, garlic, spices, and whatever happened to be scraped off the road that day.

"The script is said to feature a new, younger sidekick for the aged Doctor Jones."

Please God--anyone but Hayden Christensen.

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posted by Harrison at 4:22 PM

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This picture shows somethin' we all sorta' forget-- especially now that women bein' in combat is a common occurrence. It wasn't always that way, and the Vietnam Woman's Memorial is just as important as the Wall.

AHM reminded me of that 'cause her mom was a nurse. She decided not to enlist during WWII (rumor has it her fiance--AHM's father--tore up the enlistment papers).

Her nursing school roommate, however, did enlist--in 1942. First she was sent to India to take care of the men buildin' the Burma Road and the pilots flyin' the "Hump"--the 530-mile long passage over the Himalayan Mountains--and Merrill's Marauders. In 1950 she went to Korea with the Inchon landings, part of the 4th Field Hospital that often arrived ahead of the M.A.S.H. units. (Alan Alda, eat your heart out.)

Over the years she worked her way up through the Army Nurse Corp, ultimately to head the Walter Reed Hospital nursing staff. In 1970, President Nixon chose Anna Mae Hays as the first woman in American military history to become a brigadier general.

She's 84 now, and I don't know if the lady ever wrote a book, but I sure hope she does. We need more stories like hers as an example.

So while you're honoring the men, remember to honor the women too.

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posted by Harrison at 1:45 PM

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…in the Senate lunchroom. Free for all Demo-cats, John McCain, Mike deWine, George Voinovich, et al. Guaranteed to stop the filibuster.

"According to [U.S. Rep. John "Randy"] Kuhl [R 29th-NY], after lunch [with President Bush on Air Force One] frozen raspberry fruit bars were served up. Kuhl, [Sherwood] Boehlert [R 24th-NY] and [Thomas] Reynolds [R 26th-NY] all licked their treats, but the president bit into his.

"That's when I realized it was very cold, too cold to lick, and my tongue was sticking to the lollipop," Kuhl said. "I don't know if it was intentional to slow down the conversation, but here we were with the leader of the free world and all our tongues are stuck to lollipops."

Ya' know, this is somethin' even the pups figure out early on. Durin' the summer AHM used to put ice in our water bowls which made for some fun times. Even Grand Dam Bitch got into the act when she was young. When she'd be drivin' around, AHM would pick up some ice water at a local drive-through and set it in the cup holder. Grand Dam would promptly stick her nose in and blow ice water in all directions. Too late she discovered just how high AHM could jump and drive at the same time--not a good discovery. Also not good was discoverin' how quickly a small canine gets bounced from stick shift to headrest to glove compartment when the auto careens back and forth.

As far as the ice-in-the-water-bowl, there have been various repercussions over the years. Haley thought she'd lick one and ended up with her tongue hangin' out, ice cube firmly attached. Needless to say vigorous head-shakin' didn't work. AHM finally shoved Haley's face into warm water, then spent the next half hour swearin' and moppin' water off everything within snortin' distance.

My kid Hem has an original technique. He picks out all the ice cubes and leaves 'em in strategic places--like in front of the back door. Then he sits down and waits for AHM to come around the corner and ski jump out the open door. No points on form but she usually clears the steps. (She's pretty agile for a two-legged human.)

A second favorite (until we convinced him of the error of his ways) was puttin' one between the bar/sink where AHM makes our dinners and the placemats where she serves it up. Why he thought it was amusin' to dig his food out of the jade plant in the corner was beyond the rest of us.

For some reason we don't get ice cubes in our water bowl as much as we used to. Go figure.

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posted by Harrison at 7:28 PM

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It's cool--and sorta on target--'specially the last part.


You've made a yellow Lightsaber

Yellow is the color of Honor and Loyalty. It
symbolizes caution and foreboding in either
direction of the blade, meaning that the owner is
relatively cautious...but also to be cautious of them.
Since Yellow stands for both Honor and Cowardice,
one should always think twice
before attacking someone with a Yellow Saber.

What Colored Lightsaber Would You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla


Dug up at A Small Victory.

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posted by Harrison at 3:59 AM

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…and I'm here to help you. Unless you're under attack from rooster terrorists.

"There is a real-life chicken run going on in Columbia [MD]. Since March, chickens and roosters have been terrorizing several neighborhoods near the Columbia Town Center. WBAL-TV 11 News reporter Lowell Melser said the community of Barnside in Columbia is truly living up to its name after police said 18 chickens and roosters invaded the neighborhood. Melser said while most have been caught, two are really fowling things up. He reported that two roosters have taken over the neighborhood and said it looks like leaving is not an option.

"Howard County animal control has tried 10 times to catch the pesky poultry, but each time they have come up empty-handed. "They were camped out in that tree," James Duga said. "They didn't catch any roosters, no.

Animal control up a tree. What an image.

Then there are the fe-lyings who hunt the snakes who hang with the rats (who live in the house that taxpayers built). Wait…maybe this is about the politicians who smooze with the snakes who pander to rats. Tough to tell sometimes.

"Mary Jane Hendricks was back at work Monday, but she was moving kind of slow from an injury caused by a cat the [Columbus, GA] put in her workplace to run off the snakes drawn to the building by rats that called it home.

"Hendricks…was descending from a ladder Friday when she stepped on one of the cats, a recent addition to the city's payroll, hired for room and board to chase off the snakes preying on the rats that roamed the racks of the [Cusseta Road] storage center."

Yep. Cats, snakes, rats. Sounds like your average government to me.

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posted by Harrison at 6:50 PM

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…and don't let the light saber hit you on the butt on the way out.

"Hayden Christensen is set to quit acting to become an architect. The Star Wars actor says he plans to swap the big screen for building design - because the movie industry doesn't excite him anymore.

"He told Britain's The Sun newspaper: "Maybe the new Star Wars will be my last movie. "I don't find Hollywood interesting, so I'm thinking about studying architecture instead."

He must have read his reviews.

"The heartthrob actor…claims that he's had enough of making movies because the industry demands too much from its stars."

Like…oh…acting?

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posted by Harrison at 1:29 AM

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…why these seven fools get to tell the Republican majority what they can and cannot do without a vote?

This wouldn't happen in my pack!

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posted by Harrison at 2:14 PM

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Palm D'og Awarded at Cannes

"Away from the bitchy, star-obsessed world of the human red carpet, a small, black and white Mongolian shepherd dog, its name unknown, picked up the Palm Dog, arguably the movie industry's highest accolade for canine cast members.

"The winner, who appeared in Mongolian film The Cave of the Yellow Dog, was not in Cannes to receive the award, but Wolfram Skowronnek Schaer, a German involved in selling the film, picked it up on its behalf. "I hope the dog is still alive," he said. "He is in Mongolia and we will do our best to bring this to him."

Similar hopes were expressed for Michael Moore--last year's winner for Fahrenheit 911.


Measurin' the stayin' power of men. (Women, insert hysterical laughter here.) No mention of Australians in this article, so I guess Dad still holds the record.

"A scientific study to be published this week will suggest that British men are world leaders at sex, at least when they are measured against the clock…

"While British men took on average 7.6 minutes, the typical American took 7 minutes, while the Spanish lasted 5.8 minutes and the Dutch 5.1 minutes. The Turks produced the biggest surprise: on average they spend just 3.7 minutes at it.

Yeah, well, they're still gettin' over that Crusades business, don'ya'know…


Now here's a guy who knows the importance of keepin' the equipment in workin' order. 'Course he moonlights as a whack job…

"An unusual dispute has a St. Louis dog owner in a fight against the city. The controversy started two weeks ago and could end with the dog turned over to the city.

"Saturday is the last chance for Oran Ambus to get his dog out of the city pound. The city says it's a simple matter of getting the dog neutered. Ambus says that's not an option according to the holy word. Leviticus Chapter 22 is part of the scipture Ambus says applies to his case. Ambus, an israelite, says the holy words are a direct reference to the importance of animals left untouched for entrance into heaven. He says his personal beliefs extend to his nine month old rottweiler, now caged at the animal pound.

Rottweiler, hmmmm? I say go with the city's rulin' on this one.


More camel terrorism. Okay…everyone knows camels are called "the ship of the desert." So, can someone tell me where there's a desert--in West Virginia? (And no fair citin' The-Robert-C.-Byrd-Memorial-anything.)

"1,500-pound camel picked an unfortunate place to take a breather. A woman called for help on her cell phone Wednesday after a camel sat on top of her while she was painting a fence. Firefighters and the camel's owner helped move the animal off the woman, who was having trouble breathing, ambulance driver Brent Hicks said. "There is no protocol on something like this," he said."

No protocol vis a vis camels? Where's Homeland Security on this issue!


And now the world has to cope with a monkey terrorist. What next?

"Japanese officials are struggling to capture a rogue monkey roaming the streets of Tokyo… "It's a bit of a problem. The animal welfare staff is trained to catch dogs but not monkeys," said Tokyo city official Hiroyuki Satsuke."

I'm bettin' the monkey's just lookin' to settle the score for that King Kong vs. Godzilla issue.


National Dog-Bite Prevention Week.

Oops. Missed it.

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posted by Harrison at 7:36 PM

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There are humans out there who claim animals can't be athletes 'cause, well, I guess 'cause they figure all animals are born with all the power and grace they'll ever have. Hardly. First ya' gotta' have the attitude (which of course I do, as you know, and it's not as common as ya' might think). Then ya' gotta' train for competition, even if it only means holdin' yourself the right way in a show ring. (Flirtin' with the old lady judges helps too.)

Now I always figured horses were the real athletes of the domestic animal world. They've got those skinny little legs and ankles (with real big hoofs attached, admittedly) that carry 1,000+ pounds around a racetrack at about 35 mph. And they're noisy--those hooves really do thunder--'specially from my perspective at ground level when they go past you on the trainin' track.

That's what makes yesterday's Preakness amazin'. Imagine you're that big, goin' that fast when another horse cuts you off. Talk about road rage.

"…one of Alex’s front feet hit one of Scrappy T’s rear hooves--a frequently disastrous collision known as “clipping heels” in racing terminology. The impact caused Afleet Alex to begin to fall forward, almost as if someone tripped a human runner as he was sprinting for the wire.

"But as Afleet Alex went down nearly to his knees, sending Rose sliding forward out of his saddle, the colt somehow managed to stab forward with one foot in the blink of an eye, catching his 1,100-plus-pound frame and then lifting it and his rider skyward."

Try takin' a horse butt to the jaw and still winnin'.

Tough to tell which athlete is grinnin' more--the jockey or the horse.





AHM says a lot of people got their nose out of joint when Secretariat was named one of the top 50 athletes of the 20th Century by ESPN. I wasn't around waaaayyy back in '73--and my great-great-great-granddam isn't around now to ask--so I'll have to trust AHM when she says watchin' Secretariat run was almost a religious experience. Grown-up people all cryin' and huggin'--in New York, of all places--when a horse came down the stretch at Belmont Park--all alone.


Now he was an athlete.

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posted by Harrison at 10:10 PM

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Finally! A reason to pay attention to those spam emails.

"Police in Italy say they have found a secret racecourse [uncovered by paramilitary carabinieri] - with grandstands, a car park and 80 racehorses. There were 200 vehicles at the course, built without planning permission, when the raid took place.

"Investigators impounded thousands of packets of illegal stimulants, including Viagra which can apparently enhance the sporting performance of horses.

I'll just bet it does.

(BTW--whoever out there decided I could read German spam has been sadly misinformed. Hell, I can’t even read English spam 'cause I'm a dog!)

And since I'm pickin' on Italy…

"Italy may be in recession but the pornography industry in the traditionally Roman Catholic country is booming and growing more high-tech savvy by the day, a new study co-sponsored by the Vatican showed Thursday.

"The study by the respected Eurispes Institute said the aim of the industry was to provide pornography services "24 hours a day" via mobile phones, television and the Internet…

"The strategy ... is now to give consumers a sort of 24-hour service wherever they may be via all means of communications by using the most advanced technology as well as traditional outlets."

At least now I know why everyone keeps yappin' about that "24" TV program.

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posted by Harrison at 11:28 PM

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(Yeah, I know these guys aren't marsupials--cut me a break, will ya'?)

Clean-up on Aisle 9

"So exactly how do you stop a charging deer in Wal-Mart? You take away its credit card. Shoppers at the Wal-Mart here wish they would have thought of that. It would have been a whole lot easier…

"The store's greeter didn't see the deer enter through the exit, but she did see the critter when it hit the slick floor and fell. It quickly recovered and went scurrying down the aisles.

"After doing a little looking around, the deer was tackled by a customer. Others of the human persuasion then tied the deer's legs so it couldn't kick, placed it in a shopping cart and pushed it outside."

AHM tried to put me in a shopping cart once, at one of those pet stores where pets are actually allowed. Not a positive experience for either of us, 'specially after I figured out you could screw up the wheels by jumpin' from one side to the other. That was fun while it lasted--about ten minutes--or until I managed to ricochet the cart into the chew bones display. Eureka! Manna from Heaven falling all around. 'Course I immediately learned the fate of sinners in the hands of an angry God…

Good thing I didn't try this little trick (article with picture).

"The dalmatian wears sunglasses while riding the motorbike and sidecar in Nanjing. Its owner says the dog can drive for about 200 metres at speeds of up to 5mph."

Sure beats haulin' a kid's wagon around, although the sidecar is red…

Howard the Duck Strikes Back.

"When Steve Schneider of Normal [IL] got home from the gym Friday night, he found shattered glass in the driveway and a big hole in a picture window.

"Schneider said he cautiously peeked through the front door and saw a large duck sitting in the middle of his living room.

"He tried to lure the duck out the back door using bread as bait, but the flustered fowl hit the ceiling, flying through several rooms and into a clothes closet. That's when [Schneider] called for help."

No word on whether Tim Robbins responded. (He's probably too busy tryin' to destroy all the remainin' prints of that movie.)

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posted by Harrison at 3:28 PM

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..or maybe not...

UPDATE: Dug up this test at A Small Victory and I guess I got it wrong. Hmmm--I was even honest about bein' short and hairy…




A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Alpha Human Mom almost got arrested for drivin' down the highway in a Darth Vader costume with Emiliano Zapata in the passenger seat, Hamlet in the back, and C-3PO hangin' out the hatchback door.

As the story goes, she was invited to a Halloween costume party, and, bein' a theater major and all, decided to recreate those Star Wars costumes herself. Guess that makes her one of the original Star Wars geeks.

Apparently the 3PO costume was so good (theater majors tend to overdo that "homemade costume" bit), her friend had the same problem actor Anthony Daniels did; namely, robots don't bend real well--'specially those with gold-painted fruit juice cans as knee joints. Not havin' a forklift handy, it took Darth, Zapata, and Hamlet a good fifteen minutes to slide ole' Goldy into the hatchback, and then only 3/4 of him fit. They took off anyway with the rest of him hangin' out like a bunch of 2 x 4's picked up at Home Depot.

Unfortunately they forgot to shove a red warnin' flag up Goldenrod's olfactory receptor.

Continued in Read the Rest!

AHM claims she never got a ticket and really wasn't doin' anything illegal--'cept 'causin' a traffic jam and a couple of near-accidents among rubberneckin' drivers. She did almost lose Golden Boy once when she made a right turn too fast but eventually they made it intact, then had to go through the reverse engineerin' bit to get him out. They had plenty of help on that end. Evidently they created quite a stir with their arrival since, back then, there weren't a lot of fools dressin' up as C-3PO and actually goin' out in public.

As I understand it, drivin' home was no problem 'cause, homemade costumes bein' what they are, they don't hold up real well to serious partyin'. By the end of the evenin' there were bits of 3PO strewn all over the place. Think it had somethin' to do with the fact he discovered other deficiencies in the costume after a few beers…

Obviously I wasn't around in 1977--none of the current pack was around as witnesses--and AHM says the whole story's all a vicious rumor passed down from muzzle to muzzle--but the oldsters insist there are pictures of those costumes somewhere.

[Not anymore.--AHM]

Luckily for us AHM got over that costumin' thing. 'Course I can always go to costume parties as Chewbacca--I just tell 'em the costume shrunk in the wash. And AHM is waaaayyy to smart to even think about stickin' any of us in this.

Oh, someone will buy it--and the Princess Leia Slave costume too. Check the lines outside your local theater next week. Not that they'll allow canines inside, of course, which is really unfair, especially if we're stuck in one of those outfits. I imagine we'd be tough critics and Lucas doesn't need any more of those. (Jar Jar Binks wouldn't have stood a chance of livin' past the first frame of Phantom if anyone had consulted me. AHM got an extra toy just to watch us tear him apart.)

At least the long, sad saga of sequels/prequels is nearin' the end. Havin' been suckered into seein' Phantom Menace, AHM isn't even thinkin' about seein' the others. She has the original Star Wars to watch instead. The real one--the one she taped off some new fangled pay TV movie site called HBO--the one that came before Lucas jumped into the computer á la Tron, started wavin' his lightsaber around, and whizzed on everything in sight.

[Does anyone realize the ending of that original Star Wars appears to have been lifted (nearly whole) from a 1954 British film The Dam Busters?--AHM]

Whatever. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away… George Lucas was havin' fun. The actors were havin' fun. The audience was havin' fun. Guess when you humans get to be rich and famous you can't have any more fun. You're Important and Must Be Serious.

Well, one thing I know about is bein' important--or thinkin' you're important--and havin' a big ego. Bigger egos, bigger falls. From what I can tell, Lucas has fallen into the Great Pit of Carkoon to be slowly digested by the Sarlacc. But it's the Star Wars fans who are the hapless victims being kept alive in endless agony.

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posted by Harrison at 2:12 AM

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It's been a slow news week. Besides, AHM has been hoggin' the computer for her stuff. I got finally got my turn, but not until I staged a lap sit-in.

'Course she paid me back by showin' me this. Just what the world needs--an Eastern Grey Squirrel with ego issues.

"Being an International Superstar and The World's Most Photographed Squirrel, Sugar Bush loves to dress up, and has over 1,000 outfits with matching hats and accessories. Sugar Bush Squirrel has her own, posh studio with an elaborate stage and thousands of stage props, and has posed for over 1,000 photos since her modeling career began. As News Anchor of SNN-The Squirrel News Network, she has turned the catch phrase, 'you've been squirreled' into an overnight success. It is fast becoming her very own, international, household expression.

"Keep watching and you will find her on everything from greeting cards, calendars, children's books, paper dolls, coffee table books, coloring books and advertisements to military photos for our troops!"

Oh, bite me, squirrel. Better yet, I'll bite you, right after I take care of Charlie the Hamster.


Black Bart is alive and well and has moved to NYC after 117 years. Either that or this guy is a typical NY liberal who thought the stagecoach was from Texas and the Pres was drivin'.

"The wild West Side of Manhattan became Dodge City for a pair of horses turned loose in traffic Friday when a hit-and-run truck driver flipped a 120-year-old [vintage Wells Fargo] stagecoach onto its side, sending the runaway equines on an unscheduled jaunt across town."

Yet another reason we should never have anything to do with China. Okay, it was a cat and I can't say one less cat on the earth would break my heart, but this is reeeeaaally stupid. And it wasn't even a Demo-cat!

A Chinese television channel was reportedly forced to apologize after receiving complaints from pet lovers about a programme in which a cat was thrown out of a four-storey building.

Cat was okay. Damn.

Down and really out of it in Beverly Hills.

"Responding to neighbor complaints about a home's stench, authorities removed 135 dogs and 30 cats from [the] urine and feces soaked [Rialto, CA] residence of [Charlotte Spadaro, a former mayor of Beverly Hills] where a rotting Great Dane was found earlier in a malfunctioning freezer."

Guess they're right when they say Hollywood is full of crap…

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posted by Harrison at 5:51 PM

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You decided which is which.

A few days ago Meryl Yourish linked to a fisking of PETA's non-apology over the Holocaust advertsing campaign. (Bottom line--they'll do it again if they like, so there!) I guess animal rights people don't like…well…don't like people. AHM was always sayin' they would trample a homeless person just to throw blood on a fur-wearin' celeb.

Yesterday was the runnin' of the Kentucky Derby, and, since I didn't see any protestors around Churchill Downs, I thought I'd check out PETA's take on horse racin'. They don't like it. (D'uh.) Race horses, ya' see, can't make friends and don't have a stable home life.

"Racehorses can cost millions of dollars and are often purchased by syndicates, which may be composed of thousands of members. There are also trainers, handlers, veterinarians, and jockeys involved, so a horse is rarely able to develop any kind of bond with one person or other horses. They travel from country to country, state to state, racetrack to racetrack, so few horses are able to call one place “home.” Most do not end up in the well-publicized races, but instead are trucked, shipped, or flown to the thousands of other races that take place all over the country every year."

I gotta' admit I don't know a lot about how the professional race horses feel about friends and family and smoozin' with the guys down at the local taven. Maybe some of 'em do end up needin' time in analysis. But AHM had friends who owned a training stable and those equines were pampered, let me tell you. The ones I met (not many since I was too young to be allowed around large beings with very large, iron-trimmed feet) were enjoyin' life and loved gettin' out on the track. Even the lead pony fancied himself a hot property.

See, animals are naturally competitive. Yeah, I'm includin' you humans in that mix 'cause you are animals. Some of us are more competitive (and more successful) than others but there's no denyin' our instincts are to be better than the next guy. The day you humans decided it was Not Nice to encourage your pups to be winners was the beginin' of the long slide down to your general dumbness.

Horses love to run. Just take a look at a herd of youngsters in a field. They're already playin' horse race. They're also playin' kick the crap out of the other guy to get to the front, but that's the way kids are. Sorry to tell ya' this, but your precious baby is not born with a natural sense of be-nice-to-everyone-so-everyone-wins. It's more like a natural sense of beat-the-daylights-out-of-everyone- 'til-I'm-top-of-the-heap. We grown up animals are supposed to teach 'em that's not quite the way things are done--sometimes by smackin' 'em around a few times until they learn. Don't like that idea? Tough kitty litter. A little bottom paddlin' never hurt anyone, 'tho I've found a well-time bared-teeth growl is usually enough. (AHM uses a spray water bottle which does the trick--no one likes a snoot full of cold water.)

Anyway, PETA doesn't like the idea horses might like competin' on a race track. They're ignorin' the simple fact horse racin' got started because some ancient equestrian noticed his mount was tryin' to beat out the horse in the next lane along the ole' Appian Way. Take a look at the horses bein' led into the winner's circle at a track--any track. They're prancin' and dancin' and braggin' "I'm Number One." They'd be wavin' the ubiquitous index finger if they had one to wave.

Do humans screw things up? Greedy humans certainly do (horses didn't invent the idea of bettin' on themselves) but there's no shortage of greed anywhere in the animal kingdom. (Don't believe me?--just check out feedin' time in a houseful of fat fe-lyings. Been there--done that--it's not pretty.) And before any of you PETA people start yellin' "Amen Brother" you might wanna' remember that low-down Holocaust advertisment was to get money for your own herd. There's nothin' more disgustin' than some self-righteous prat wavin' the offerin' plate in front of a picture of dead people.

"Help phase out this exploitative “sport”: Refuse to patronize existing tracks, work to reform and enforce racing regulations, lobby against the construction of new tracks,…"

As long as a 50-1 shot like Giacomo can win the Kentucky Derby, that ain't gonna' happen anytime soon.


*"This same philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant jade on a journey."
Oliver Goldsmith - The Good-Natured Man, Act I

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posted by Harrison at 3:49 PM

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Now fish are takin' up terrrorism.

"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…

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posted by Harrison at 10:14 PM

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Gotta' say I can't figure out why so many of you humans just can't let go of Laura Bush tellin' one of the oldest farm jokes in civilization. Abel probably pulled the same stunt on Cain. That had unexpectedly dire results and some of you are right up there on the Cain/Abel scale of outrage.

Michelle Malkin didn't think the joke was necessary. Didn't think jokes were supposed to be necessary, just funny--and if you ignoramusi think canines (and fe-lyings) don't like a good joke, you've been livin' in a cave--or North Korea.

Michael Savage spent days obsessin' about that joke. I admit to likin' Michael Savage--'cept when he starts yellin'. Basically I like him 'cause he treats his pal Teddy like royality which shows he's got the right stuff. Hey Mikey!--if Teddy is just gettin' around to tryin' out his equipment at one year old, he's waaaayyy behind the curve. Around here we start excercisin' by age four months. 'Course now that Teddy's decided to go lookin' for love all on his own, you're gonna' have to get over bein' a girly man about ole' farm animal jokes. He might bring home a sweetie to meet the parents and you'll end up as a dog breeder--which can have unexpected benefits.

Now bein' a breeder means words like "stud" and "bitch" are tossed around pretty regularly without givin' 'em much thought. I remember one time AHM was talkin' with another breeder at her favorite outdoor café in CA, negotiatin' another few days of fun for Dad. Bein' outside, we were all sittin' nearby, lined up on a bench, hopin' someone would spill some food in our general direction. Natually there was the usual crowd of tourists takin' our pictures and gushin' about "cute doggies." Guess none of them knew where puppies came from--or what Dad had been up to the month before--or their attitude might have been different.

Somewhere along the line AHM asked "Is the bitch in heat?"

The collective gasp that went up from those tourists could have flattened LA faster that those fake tornadoes in The Day After Tomorrow. Since most of 'em were either foreigners--or from Queens, NY--it was obvious certain words have a universal meanin'. Within seconds they were all scurryin' off as fast as their little legs could move.

Little legs…and little minds. Get a life, people.

All that bein' said…could someone explain the "pull my finger" joke?


*From Jimmie Rodgers' Honeycomb

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posted by Harrison at 1:57 PM

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…but I don't want 'em sittin' on the throne

I thought this idea had been flushed. Some fe-lyin' thought it was clever (which should be a warnin' about what fe-lyings consider clever) years ago. Silly Human Female thought she'd train Evil Monster Fe-lyin' Dandylion to use somethin' similar (which was a warnin' about Silly Human Female that went unheeded) with the predictable response from Alpha Human Mom. I, of course, was too young and dumb to stay out of it and learned the hard way.

'Course now that someone's tryin' to push the idea in environmental, save-the-birds-and-bees terms, it might catch on. Some of you humans will fall in the litter pan for anything.

Plastic potty helps pussy pee

"Cats can be trained to take themselves to the bathroom and use the toilet like humans, says the inventor of a pussy potty…

"[Jo] Lapidge says the idea isn't as silly as it sounds. She says as well as eliminating the need for kitty litter in the house, it means the cat can stay indoors, which protects native wildlife.

"Lapidge isn't the first to come up with the idea but her innovative design has won her a place in the Fresh Innovators initiative, a campaign to highlight the work of emerging Australian inventors…

"Theoretically, many animals, including dogs and rabbits, can be trained to use the toilet, but there are physical limitations," [Dr Kersti Seksel, an Australian registered veterinary specialist in animal behaviour says] "The average great dane isn't going to balance on a toilet seat," she says.

Now think about this for a minute. You're sharin' your most private area with a fe-lyin'! Sad fact of life is we canines and felyings sometimes run afoul of a flea or two, not to mention fe-lyings have the habit of killin' and eatin' certain rodent intruders. Both situations can give ya' parisites. (Use your imagination, people.) Do ya' really wanna' sit down for a long read after the cat's been there? Do ya' wanna' risk directin' a visitor to the powder room only to have 'em interrupt Fluffy or Tiger doin' their business? And we haven't even scratched the surface of the "cats can't flush" grossness.

Spare me…

Dug up at Dave Barry's Blog

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posted by Harrison at 1:45 PM

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See, even I know it's important to issue corrections if I post somethin' misleadin'. (Insert snarky slam against MSM here.)

Meryl Yourish just advised me the cat picture linked in this post is a fake. Read her comment for a real scary picture!

On the other paw--and speakin' of scary pictures…

Check out this guy. (Barf warnin'--click at your own risk.)

"My name is Dennis Avner and my Indian name is Stalking Cat AKA Cat, Tiger, Tiger man Cat man and others not known to me. I am Huron and Lakota and in following a very old Huron Tradition I am transforming myself into my totem, a tiger."

I always thought a "totem" was a pole with carvings. Someone should use a pole on ole' Dennis.

Dug up at NRO's The Corner.

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posted by Harrison at 1:40 PM

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Dogz in the Hood

Do we need this? I mean, do we really need this? If you humans want to turn your pups into miniture pimps and ho's with toys and cartoons like the Bratz and Baby Mommaz, that's your problem. Just leave us canines alone already!

Poco Loco
"This little short haired Mexican Chihuahua is a little crazy. Hence the name "Poco Loco". Poco attacks people. This is what he lives for. He would lie in hiding under the steps or behind a fence, just waiting for that unsuspecting mailman or electric company meter reader. They would say "what a cute lil doggy", and as soon as they turned their back, he would attack. His favorite spot to bite is the back of the ankle, the achillis tenndon."

Now I'm an anti-cute doggy advocate, but the worst I've ever done is whiz a few wingtips. (I'll whiz on Birkenstocks for free.)

Dug up at Lileks via somewhere I don't remember.

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posted by Harrison at 1:00 PM

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