"Nature Noble"

Rocky

Recollect that the Almighty, who gave the dog to be companion of our pleasures and our toils, hath invested him with a nature noble and incapable of deceit.

--Sir Walter Scott, The Talisman (1825)

from The Quotable Dog Lover (Patricia M. Sherwood, ed., The Lyons Press, New York, 2000)

"May we introduce ourselves?"

"Hello, Madam. My name is 'Missy' and I am a thoroughly delightful mix of the most admirable canine species known to man-- heavy on the adorable Black Lab. And this is my Dear Friend Rocky, a vicious-- though quite lovable-- Staffordshire terrier, also known as a Pit Bull."

"Ruff."

"Oh for crying out loud, Missy. I know who you are."

"Well, Madam, you've been away from the Farm so long we weren't sure you would remember us so we thought it best to formally introduce ourselves."

"Thanks for that, girl. Don't you know, I could never forget you. But for goodness sake! Please stop calling me 'Madam'."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Ruuuuuffff!!"

"That is pretty funny, Rocky. Now. I thought about you every waking moment-- and most moments were waking ones-- so rest assured I didn't forget you. What have you been up to in my absence?"

"RUFF!!"

"Oh, I know. He's a wonderful friend, isn't he? Taking y'all to the Pasture every chance he had."

"Oh, yes! Master Mike... errr... I mean... oh, but he hates 'Dr. Mike'... . Mike is so much fun!"

"Ruff!"

"And the Big Food you missed, Marica! I must tell you, my Dear Friend and I have become quite fond of the manly food Mr. Big Food cooks when you delicate creatures of the fair human sex are not around. That ... umm... "

"Ruff. Ruff?"

"Oh! That's it! Thank you my Friend. That 'soul food' was a sight to behold. It was all I could do to keep my wild side in check while those neck bones were grilling."

[redacted in deference to Miss M]

"Rrruuuufffffffffffff."

"That sounds... well, I wouldn't characterize neck bones as 'delightful' but sounds like something Mike & Mr. Big Food would enjoy."

"They did, Marica. They did. Now, enough about us. What in Heaven's name kept you away for so very long?"

"Ruff?"

"We had to go to Jackson."

"Ruff?"

"It's a city-- of a certain sort-- down south of here, Rocky."

"And what, pray tell, is the attraction of Jackson?"

"Ruuuufff!!"

"Oh for goodness, sake. I am not a poet. If I were, I'd know it. Please stop interrupting. You know how she can go on and on once she gets started. Don't encourage her." 

"Miss M, Daughter C, and I went down to Jackson to observe the effects of heavy metals."

"Ruff?"

"It's an oblique reference."

"Heavy metals. Hummm. So you went to see an '80s band?? That's so cool, Marica! I had no idea you were into that. That's so cool."

"Good Lord, Missy! What in the ... ."

"Rrruuufff???"

"Don't you remember? You gave me a dictionary of culturally relevant slang? I've been studying it, man. I know metal."

"Well. Good for you!"

"r.u.f.f."

"It must have been some concert, dude! I was on the patio, man, when you (finally) returned home. Miss M looked a bit pique-ed. Is she alright? Oh! My! Oh, Marica!!??? Ohhhhh... NNNNNOOOOOOOoooooo."

"Ruff? RUFF!! Ruff!!????? RUFF."

"What? What? I'm trying to get to sleep. What are you two prattling on about?"

"Well. We are putting two and two together, Marica. We are smart dogs, you know. We can weigh the evidence. We read Sherlock. We watch House. We can draw conclusions."

"And what, pray tell, do you conclude, my little slueths?"

"Elementary, Marica. You went to a heavy metal concert + Miss M looked pique-ed upon her return home = Miss M took drugs at the concert."

"R.U.F.F."

"Good grief."

"We take that as acknowledgment that our conclusion is correct?"

"Ruff."

"Good griezzzzzz." 

"'Good grease? What's she talkin' 'bout, Rock?"

"rufffff."

If you thought Missy behaved poorly

last evening, you should have heard her this evening.

Even A. Leland commented on the way she was speaking to me talking back to me as we sat down to dinner. 

"I do apologize, Marica. I don't know what's gotten into me today."

"Ruff!"

"You did get into several spots of trouble today, Missy."

"I am so sorry. I just couldn't seem to help myself."

"RUFF!"

"All is forgiven."

"RUFFFFFF! Ruff!!!!!!"

"Oh. Dear Friend. You do make an excellent point. Perhaps that's my problem."

"Rocky-- you might be on to something."

"ruff."

"Two days without a run in the pasture is a very long time."

"Ruff."

"Fu^...."

"R.U.F.F."

"Thanks, Dear Friend! I'd rather you watch my mouth than have it washed out with Irish Spring."

"Really, Missy. I don't know where you've picked up this language but you must stop cussing. It's unbecoming."

"Sorry."

"Perhaps you should read what John C. Hodges has to say about vocabulary."

"Ruff?"

"First edition, Rocky. The 14th is pure unadulterated s&^#."

Who's your daughter?

I'm catching up. Miss M's dress is finished. It has French seams. The hem is very nice. I refreshed my memory about how to sew a button hole. Miss M sewed on a button!! The clutch is done, too. 

Kat called!

Daughter C sent me a lot of photographs taken with her eye. 

This is what Missy & I talked about last evening.

Rocky & Missy sittin' in

Missy's box after lunch.

I'm not adjusting the color because I do have a life. But isn't this the silliest thing you've seen today? It's like they are best pals.

Fresh Air

10 seconds

And now to Big Food recipes... .

Awe, Man

The Budweiser Super Bowl Commercial. Now, excuse me, I need to find a tissue. :-)

What's All the Excitment?

"Marica?"

"Yes, Missy?"

"Are you busy?"

"Why, no. Not really. I'm just diddling around the World Wide Web. What's up?"

"I'm sensing a bit of excitement in the air. It portends of the unusual. Pray, is something different about to happen here at the Farm."

"Ruff?"

"How perceptive of you, Missy!"

"Ruff ruff! Ruff?"

"You, too, Rocky. And yes, Daughter C will be gone for a few days. She's off to visit Mr. Bow Tie."

"Ah. Mr. Bow Tie. Such a pleasant fellow."

"RUFF!?"

"Because she's flying on an aeroplane and it's difficult for dogs to fly on aeroplanes."

"ruff."

"Pardon me, but we seem to be getting off topic. Is something about to happen?"

"Indeed it is! Thanksgiving is coming up."

"Ruff?"

" 'Thanks giving.' Excuse my ignorance, but that is something less than satisfying as an answer. What, pray tell, is 'thanks giving?' "

"Thanksgiving is an American holiday. You remember that we're Americans, right?"

"RUFF."

"Of course! I'm proud to be an American dog. 'All-American,' I might add, given my Newfoundlandian and German heritage."

"Ruff. Ruff."

"Good for you, Rocky! Stafordshire Terriers do have British ancestry. Anyway-- Thanksgiving is an American holiday on which we-- as a country, as families, and as individuals-- take time to reflect on what we are thankful for."

"Hum. Don't we do that everyday, Marica? I hear you tell Mr. Big Food you're thankful we all live together here on the Farm at least two or three time a week."

"Ruff? Ruff ruff ruff."

"Yeah, I do. And Rocky, I know you give thanks every night before you lay your little head down on the pillow that Daughter C rescued you from being chained to a tree. But this is a day where everyone gives thanks."

"Ah. An institutionalized holiday."

"Riiight. We also remember those folks who first came to America from the Old World."

"Ruff?"

"Excuse me! 'Old World?' There was a world before this one?!? I recall no mention of this on The Big Bang Theory! Old World! Is a TARDIS involved? My head is spinning!!"

"Oh, Missy. Don't take things so literally. The old world refers to Great Britain and the Continent, as opposed to America which, at the time of its discovery and colonization, was referred to as the New World."

"Ruff."

"Oh. Please. You did not know that. Stop acting so smug. Now, Marica. I have several more questions but I wonder if you might retrieve for me a map of these Old and New Worlds, as my questions are predicated on understanding this distinction."

"Ruff ruff ruff!!"

"Stop laughing. I know I am the retriever. But it's Marica's library-- she would know better than I where the appropriate map is located."

"You have to admit, that was pretty funny! I'll go retrieve you a map, Missy."

"Ruff ruff ruff!!"

"Thank you ever so much, Marica."

"Ruff!"

"Really? Ruff ruff!!"

"Most helpful. Thank you very much!"

Consanguinity

A few photos of the young Rocky:

~5 months old

about 8 months old

A few photos of Rocky the Younger the neighbor's dog's pup

~ 1 month?

I am no biologist, although I've been playing one for a few years. And I am certainly no philosopher. 

But I think what we have here is a real life moral dilemma.

Let us first state the uncontested circumstances. Rocky is a male mammal. Sweetheart, the pup's mom, a female. Neither has been neutered. 

If memory serves, when the neighbor kids first introduced me to their new dog last year, her appearance indicated that she'd recently had pups.

At their initial meeting-- separated by a fence-- Rocky was certainly a virgin. We cannot say the same for Sweetheart. (I place this in the uncontested category not because of biology, but of life experience.)

Let us now consider the circumstantial circumstances. Rocky is off-leash in the fenced-in pastures, and around the house. He is closely supervised around the house, less so in the pastures. He did go walk-about to visit Sweetheart once, but that was early spring. (So unless Sweetheart stores sperm... .)

Thanks to little neighbor Caroline, the fence separating sweetheart from Rocky is not perfectly perfect. Are the small gaps big enough for Rocky to slip though? No. Sweetheart? Questionable. In any case, we are in the pasture. 

Now to the errant data.

The neighbors have a gaggle of cats and kittens. They breed cyclically. I assume most die accordingly. Point is, when I turn the dogs out, they run to get a good whiff of the cats &  kittens across the fence line. 

While they aren't always side-by-side, Rocky & Missy stay pretty close to one another in the pasture. There have been a few times recently when I've moved along, called, called, Missy came and Rocky delayed. I have no idea what Rocky was up to during the delay.

So is it possible that pup that looks remarkably like Rocky is Rocky's pup? Sure. I do not think a fence really stands in the way of Mother Nature's Call. 

You may be thinking that this is the Moral Dilemma. Should we take responsibility for Rocky's apparent offspring? Of Course. I'll be emailing the Bartman shortly.

But that's not the real moral problem we have right now. 

We are separated from our neighbor by several football fields. And tonight, Sweetheart was on the patio, licking up crumbs. Her ribs were showing. She's underfed, to say the least. And she's still nursing three pups. 

As soon as we opened the door, she skedatled. We put a bowl of food out, in the event she comes round again.

And here is where I confront the real dilemma.  

"Sorry, Missy, I wasn't paying attention. What's that you said?"

"What's to be done about poor little Sweetheart? She's not a member of our family and you always say, 'Live and let live'."

"Ruff!"

"I don't know. Missy. I just don't know what's to be done about Sweetheart's state of affairs. But one thing I do know-- and pay attention to this you two-- 'Live and let live' does not mean there's no such thing as right and wrong. Got it?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Ruff."

Who's Your Daddy?

Poor quality photos take with my little camera and then cropped like crazy. Sorry.

Sweetheart, the neighbor dog, had three puppies. Two look a lot like their mother. The other little fellow definitely does not.

What we can't figure out is how this could possibly have happened. Sweetheart and our dogs are separated by a fence, and our dogs are never out without us. So I guess it couldn't have happened.

Therefore, I conclude there's a dog in the neighborhood who looks just like Rocky. Who knew?

Look What Followed Us Home, Mom!

Good. Grief.

Daughter C and Miss M went on a run. They didn't even leave at the same time but they all arrived home together.

I gave it water. That's all I'm doing.

C&M are doing some clever combination of google maps and reverse phone number look up. We are all pretty sure he belongs somewhere around the burnt-out Court House. Naturally, he has no collar. I mean, why would he? Why would you want to make it easy for Goldie-Lost to find his way home?

Good. Grief. 

Word on the Farm is that just as soon as they put those silver coins under our tongues and push Mr. Big Food and I out into the River Styx they'll be turning the joint into an animal rescue farm. It should be wildly successful.

Meanwhile... .

(Goldie-Lost does seem to be a sweetie. If he were mine, I'd be missing him.)

What's Next? Dog Parks?

I took the dogs out later than usual this morning. They had a great run! After we finished up  our post-run chores, I sat down to peruse the World-Wide-Web and we got into a conversation.

"What are you finding?" Missy asked.

"Ruff?"

"Well," I said, "there's still the idiocy of shutting down unmanned National Parks. We talked about that earlier."

"Ruff."

"Yes, I remember. You were in a bit of a snit about that this morning."

"Yes. I hope I didn't upset you."

"Oh. Not at all. We've learned turpitude really pisses you off."

"Ruff! Ruff!"

"But I have a question. They won't be shutting down any dog parks, will they? I only ask because from what you've told us about the differences between country and city life, I can imagine those City Dogs must really love their dog parks. Poor dears."

"RUFF?!"

"I don't think there's any danger of that happening, Missy. To the best of my knowledge the National Parks Service isn't in the dog park business... yet. And no, Rocky, they can't close your pastures just because you run in them. As I understand it, a park has to receive federal funding before it can be shut down. We receive no federal funding-- in fact, quite the opposite, we pay the Treasury-- so you're safe."

"Ruff?"

"How can you say this with such certainty, Marica? You always say, 'There's no tellin' what they'll do'."

"Rrrrufff!"

A Close Encounter with Freedom

We were out in the overgrown pasture just now. I was wandering around thinking about freedom and the dogs were doing what dogs do.

All of a sudden, I looked up, and there was Bambi-- heading straight toward me! He changed course when he saw me. I hollered, "Missy!" She came a-runnin' and headed off in Bambi's direction. Rocky followed.

Bambi still has his spots but he's grown a lot since I'd last seen him. He's almost as tall as I. 

Here are the questions of the morning: 

Is Bambi free? 

Are the dogs? 

Am I?

And, what did you do before 9am this morning? I hope it wasn't anything metaphysical!

Incredulity.

Rocky's Famous!

The conversation just now:

"Rocky! Did you see Aggie blogged about you?"

"Ruff."

"How thoughtful of her!"

"Ruff."

"Lots and lots of people read Aggie's blog. You're famous!"

"Ruff!"

"I see I am mentioned only as 'his cohort'."

"Now, now Missy. You're missing the point. If Aggie had named a raccoon after you, Rocky would have been 'her cohort'. Right Rocky?"

"Ruff, ruff."

"Just to be clear, you haven't connived to make the trip to Aggie's down on the coast, have you?"

"Ruff."

"I can't make any promises. I mean, look at the situation from my point of view. 'Rocky, Rocky, Rocky.' That's all I hear around here. And now this! Rocky gets blogged about-- by name-- and what do I get? Maybe a little vacation would do me good. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know."

"Oh Missy. We all love you. But not everything can be about you. Don't you think Rocky deserves to be blogged about by someone other than I?"

"Ruff!"

"I'm not saying everything should be about me. But for crying out loud! Much as I love him, have you heard him speak? He has a vocabulary of literally one word!"

"Ruff."

"I, on the other hand, am anything but prosaic. I am scrupulous in making sure my words communicate the exact shades of my meaning. I don't like to flaunt it, but ... "

"Ruff! Ruff ruff!!"

"Excuse me. Rocky hears something. I gotta go. We can continue this conver... ."

"RUFF! RUFF RUFF!!"

"I heard you the first time. I'm coming! Ruff ruff!!"

The Overgrown Pasture Revisited

Same tree after a little bush hogging

Note the web

See?

I feel sorry for City Mice Dogs. I know they have their Dog Parks and such, but it just doesn't seem to me that they have the opportunities to express themselves as Dogs-- and I'm here using the word "express" as in gene expression-- as do Country Dogs. (Except, of course, if they happen to live in Detroit, in which case they have plenty of opportunity to express themselves as dogs.)

Big Life!

hap´pi-ness (-nĕs),

Missy

Rocky

n. 1. Good fortune; prosperity. 2. A state of pleasurable content with one's condition of life; felicity; bliss.

How Cold Is It?

It's so cold here this morning that 

• I wore long pants to the pasture.
• The front & back doors are open to let in some fresh air.
• and

Rocky wouldn't get into the water!

 I'm not complaining. I'm just noting.

You Stink!

A quick Farm Dog update.

We're bush-hogging some of the pastures. Yesterday, the Pond Pasture got bush-hogged.This morning Mr. Big Food joined me in taking the dogs to the Pond Pasture so we could assess the outcome of the bush-hogging.

Lookin' good!

The dogs had a field day! I sort of missed their antelope leaping through the tall grass, but they had fun-- and that's what matters most.

I'd forgotten all about the covered big plastic thing of I know not what out in the pasture that was obliterated by the 14' bat wing bushhog. Until the dogs found its remains.

It's never a good thing to see the dogs rolling around belly up in the pasture. And it's most decidedly not a good thing when one remembers the covered plastic thing of I know not what was in the vicinity of where the dogs are rolling around belly up.

Good Lord! You stink!

But the danged thing was, they looked so happy! And then so sad as we were hosing them down and scrubbing the stink off of them.

Here's the problem. There's no rain forecast. The stinky pile of I know not what will remain there until it rains. True. It's the first of the month and they are due for their dose of flea and tick repellent, so we wouldn't be swimming in the pond for two days anyway.

But what am I supposed to do with them meanwhile?

Missy's easy. She's a retriever. Sure. She gets distracted and follows her nose to who knows where. But at the end of the outing, she looks up, doesn't see me or Daughter C or Miss M and comes looking for us.

Rocky, on the other hand, is a terrier. He gets distracted, too, by the enormity of how much space he has yet to mark. One unmarked blade of grass leads to another and another... .

And before you know it, the lady at the make-shift Courthouse asked me if we found the dog we were looking for two years ago. (It's a small community.)

I do not want Rocky to go missing.

Dang. I'm going to have to take Rocky on a regulation walk. Or two.

An Excellent Way to Start the Day

Click to enlarge and zoom in. Swallows filled the sky.

Missy

Rocky

Have a good one!

"What would you like me to read to you?"

I asked Rocky.

He may choose from among these,

or one of these.

Rocky doesn't have a problem with anthropomorphizing animals to "reinforce 'socially dominant norms' like nuclear families and gender stereotypes" because, you know, he's a dog. He thinks they are just sweet little bedtime stories. But you know, what does he know? He's a dog.