The Adventures of Fuzzy and Boomer on Friday–The Attack on the Hens

Posted on July 1, 2011 by Dayphoto

The Attack on the Hens

I was dozing under Dad’s pickup when Bladen came riding up on his bicycle.

At one point Blade was working with Mom to earn money for a new bicycle, but Dad dug Uncle Evan’s BMX out of the barn and asked Blade if he wanted to ride it. There was lots of Blade getting on and Dad adjusting the seat, then a couple or three rides up and down the driveway between the house and the grain bins, when Blade said; “Okay.” That was the last of working for a new bike, now Blade is working for a hundred dollar bill.

Every time he gets enough money to change his dollars into a bigger dollar that is what he does. I think I overheard him tell Mom and Dad that he has a twenty dollar bill, a ten dollar bill, a five dollar bill and summer isn’t even over yet.

Anyway, back to my story. Blade came riding up really fast and said that something got one of Mom-mom (Misty’s) hens. Would Mom come down and see what predator it was. My Mom can just look at the murder and know what predator did it. At least she has pretty good ideas….dogs kill just to kill, raccoons will reach through the pen and grab a head or leg and pull it off, skunks bite into the neck and throat area….well, I think you get the idea.

My Mom asked Blade all sorts of questions as she was getting ready to go down to Mom-mom’s hen house to check out the damage. She asked us dogs, Boomer and I, Fuzzy, if we wanted to go along.

You bet we did!

It was a rather long way, across the pipe road, then down the sticker road, on the super highway, then down the Apricot tree road, in 100* heat. But we made it. (It’s sort of sad, because I remember the days when I could run all the way over there right beside the four-wheeler, but not anymore. Mom always walks with me, if we walk and sits with me when I take a break. If we go on the four-wheeler she puts me on back and I ride. My legs get all shaky and trimly but I can STILL do it!)

When we got there we came upon a scene I hope I never come up on again. There was a pile of feathers that was it. Mom-mom was standing over Hank the Puff (he lost his name cow dog, they now call him Puff, as in Puff the Magic Dragon and only call him Hank when they are really upset at him).

Hank was looking sheepish and cowing down and whapping his tail really hard on the road, sending up dirt in real clouds of dust.

Then I saw it!

A feather!

A feather on Puff’s, HANK’s mouth!

Mom started asking Mom-mom all sorts of questions…did you see the chicken before it went missing? Where did you last see it? Was it alive when you saw it? Was Hank with you all the time? Did you check to see if there were any hawks flying around or sitting in the trees close by?

Hank kept looking up at Mom-mom and whapping his tail a very sincere look on his face. He was stirring up a little breeze with his tail whapping so the feathers were starting to swirl around a bit.

Boomer was sniffing in the general area when suddenly he sneezed (!) so the whole pile of feather flew up in the air with one sticking on his nose, which made him sneeze even more.

By the time Boomer stopped sneezing the pile of feathers was all messed up.

Since Mom didn’t have a carcass to study, and since Mom-mom didn’t know if there were any flying predators around, Mom decided it might have been a hawk. Here is how she came to that conclusion:

The feathers were at the base of one of the corral poles, there were no other remains but feathers
The pile of feathers wasn’t a huge amount, more like a small amount
Hank was with Blade in Blade’s room for most of the morning and sleeping on the deck in the sun the other part of the morning. (Until it got to hot)
Linki found the feathers and told Mom-mom before anyone else saw the feathers
Mom-mom counted the chickens and one is missing
Blade rode over to Grammy’s, Hank stayed with Mom-mom and the girls
Coyotes and Fox grab a bird and take the whole thing away, but it was 11:00 in the morning—it’s very rare, VERY rare for one of those predators to be out and about in the daytime, especially the middle of the morning on a 100* day

Still it looked pretty bad, Hank sitting there with a feather stuck to his nose, one on his head and another dangling on his chest.

Mom-mom’s faced hardened. “Come here, Hank!” Hank crawled over to her. Tail dragging in the dirt, a little whine coming out of his throat, he was telling us, he didn’t do it, he had been framed. Boomer should have chicken feathers all over his fur too, but his fur isn’t long.

Mom-mom reached down….we ALL thought she’s going to smack Hank, and pulled the feathers off of him! Then she gave him a big hug and told him she was glad he wasn’t the one who killed (and ate) the chicken.

So the mystery was solved. It must have been the hawk that keeps circling the sky all the time, sometimes being ran off by smaller birds in the area. Chickens don’t fly. A hen never looks up, only roosters do, they are always busy scratching and pecking, searching all over on the ground.

Mom said the hawk, probably swooped down and settled on the corral fence post, sat real still until the hen picked and scratched her way to the post.

They are easy prey for predator birds…really easy.

Fuzzy

New Drug More Powerful Than Sulfa Now in Use

Fuzzy Blogging on Friday–Mom Cooks Outside

Posted on June 24, 2011 by Dayphoto

The moment Mom comes outside and lights the grill I know good smells are going to be coming forth soon.

Boomer gets really excited when the grill gets lit he says in his former life he always—A.L.W.A.Y.S. got to have some of whatever was being cooked on the grill.

That doesn’t happen here.

Dad would be upset if Mom cooked our dinner on the grill.

Mom would probably do it if we begged really hard, but she says she doesn’t know how to make canned dog food burgers.

Once the grill gets to going Boomer steps right up and goes and sits right next to the grill. He pokes his nose up high in the air to catch as much of the smells as he possibly can. He looks sort of stupid, but hey, each to their own.

I mosey on over to the patio rocking chair and set myself down behind the chair. That puts the chair and Boomer between me and the grill. Boomer says I should move in closer just in case someone trips and drops a steak or something.

I’ve found out if you sit too close to the grill you will get yelled at —like—“Get Out of THE WAY! Move! MOVE! You are going to trip someone!” You know stuff like that. I don’t like to be yelled at, tell me once that’s enough.

Mom came out and put the meat on the grill…but only after telling Boomer “Move Boom, you are in the way and going to get burned.”

See, what did I tell you?

Boomer moved back to the rocking chair, now we were both sitting by the rocking chair.

Mom put on the meat and cloud of white lovely smoke filled the air with fumes of such delicious proportions that both Boomer and I started to drool. Mesquite smoke and grilling meat. Yummm! Sniff! Sniff! Slurpppppppppp!

Our mouths began to water and our ears perked right up as the meat sizzled and popped over the glowing coals.

Boomer whispered to me that he thought we ought to rush the grill and see if we can grab us a hunk of meat or two. I sure gave the thought a serious consideration for several minutes.

But Mom is very suspicious of begging dogs; she always has a watchful eye on us just in case we want to poach a hunk of meat or so.

Boomer thumped his tail on the ground and gave her his most sincere look. He had to work at not looking like he was begging but just really interested in what she was doing. I had to look away, Mom would know what I was up to and besides I only have a short stump of a tail so I can’t whack it on the ground.

Then everyone was there, handing their plates over to Mom walking around laughing and talking, I told Boomer we had better get out of here or we are going to get yelled at.

Boomer said he wanted to stay a little yelling never hurt anyone.

I headed over to my dog house, I know if I’m suppose to get something Mom will bring it over and scrape it out in my dish. I do NOT like getting yelled at!

Suddenly there was a sort of cash sound, the tickle of silverware falling and a little child crying.

I looked for Boomer just sure as anything that he was right in the midst of the mess. But he wasn’t.

He has slipped way over to the other side of the patio and was just laying there watching everything.

Then I heard Mom saying about not a problem there is lots more.

I waited.

Boomer walked over to where I was waiting.

Then Mom showed up with the spilled food, scraped it out in our dishes.

We too got to go to the cook out.

Fuzzy

Delta County Water

Fuzzy Blogging on Friday ——-Coyotes!

Posted on June 17, 2011 by Dayphoto

Boomer and I were down on the equipment hill, the other night. We were scouting around looking for anything of interest. Dad goes out around mid-night to change water so we like to go with him.

It was a moon-lite night, with a big old huge round moon hanging in the sky almost over-head. We left Dad picking up and moving dams and trotted on over to equipment area. My eyesight isn’t as good as it used to be, I have dark areas where I can’t see anymore. The vet said there were cats a racks growing on my eyes. There had better NOT be cats on racks in my eyes…grrrrrrrrr, growl!

Anyway, because it’s a little hard to see I decided that I didn’t want to chase bubbles in the ditches, Boomer wanted to smell what he could and I knew there were rabbits and squirrels living over there so off we went.

Things were going on pretty well…we found lots of cool odors out there, saw that the bunny family had made a home in Dad’s roller (they were too far in for us to get a good look at them), found that the squirrel family was hanging out in the leveler, and that about 40 million mice had scampered all over the place.

We didn’t bark or anything like that…barking with Dad always gets us yelled at “FUZZY!! Boomer!!! That is enough! You Dogs don’t need to be barking!” So we don’t!

We were having a really great time when suddenly over the hill 6 coyotes came running right at us! They were between us and Dad! We didn’t have any warning; they were just there lean, dark, shaggy and mean looking. Quickly I grabbed Boomer by the collar and drug him behind the stack wagon. I whispered to Boom that we needed to get to Dad fast and asked him if he could see Dad.

Boomer whispered back that he could see and hear Dad but Dad was busy picking up the tubes and setting them down so Dad didn’t know the coyotes were close by.

The coyotes started milling around sniffing the ground, I hoped not for us. Boom and I waited; it seemed like forever, Dad was still busy. The coyotes started catching the mice, we could hear the snap and the crunch as they ate their dinner, then they started yipping to each other. “I have some, come over here, this is the nest of about twenty…yip! Yip! Yip! Loud they were.

When they started that Boomer and I made a dash for Dad…we didn’t want to be the rest of their dinner!

Whew! We made it just as Dad started up the four-wheeler heading for home. I don’t run like I used to either, but Dad came by and picked me up. As he was picking me up I looked over where the coyotes were … they had vanished.

Good.

Dad said it was a good thing we dogs were close by or we could have been coyote food. I don’t think he realized how far away from him we really were.

Boomer told me later that he was really scared…those animals are big and snarly and wild.

Whew.

He is right.

Fuzzy

Delta’s Country Doctor

Fuzzy Blogging on Friday (Really This is Boomer)

Posted on June 10, 2011 by Dayphoto

Fuzzy Disappears

Yesterday was really hot, so hot Fuzzy and I did anything we could to cool off. First we went down to the canal and tried wading in the water, but it was running way too fast so that didn’t work.

While we were there Fuzzy told me about the time he fell into the canal and couldn’t get out until he got to the next head gate a mile away. He kept thinking Mom would come get him out, but she didn’t.

I guess, how it happened, Fuzzy hadn’t been living with Mom and Dad very long maybe a month or so, not a full two months yet so he was getting use to all the ‘stuff’ around the farm.

Fuzzy loves water and he loves bubbles in the water. The canal is water (huge, rip snorting, fast moving, and thundering water) and the water makes lots of bubbles as it crashes along.

Fuzzy was down at the little slide spot where we all get a drink of water staring transfixed at the bubbles when suddenly a river monster jumped up and pulled him into the canal and tossed and turned him every which way. Many times he tried to swim but the current was way too strong for his 30 pound body.

Mom was working in the yard when she missed him and started calling for him. She told Fuzzy later she looked everywhere for him, but she never even considered that he had fallen in the canal.

Anyway, Fuzzy said he was swept along so fast he had a heck of a time getting his balance when suddenly he was pushed into Shay’s head gate. And that is what saved his life. Once in the head gate he could get his feet under him and climb out. Fuzzy laid there for some time then got up, got his bearings and started walking home. He got there in time for supper. Mom knew immediately what must have happened because Fuzzy was still wet (although not AS wet) and he was exhausted.

Fuzzy said he got lots and lots of petting’s that night and even got to sleep INSIDE!

So here we are on this miserable hot day, the canal was too scary to cool off in, Dad gets upset if we lay in the furrows out in the field and Mom comes unwound if we dig nice cooling holes someplace in her yard.

So we just sat outside on the back step and panted. Our tongues hanging so far out of our mouths we must have looked like old shoes.

Dad felt sorry for us and asked Mom if she and the dogs would like to go for a ride down to the river.

Yippee!

We are going to the river! Fuzzy and I LOVE the river. There is a really cool, shallow spot where we can swim and shade all around, and best of all there are really neat smells down there.

Golly geez the ride down to the river is just wonderful…so much news on the wind I feel like I’m in heaven. Fuzzy and I keep trading sides just so we don’t miss anything.

Once down at the river we all splashed and played for ever so long. Then Mom wanted to take a walk so we all walked on down the road and up the draw to see where Davis cows traveled up to the White Ranch and then on to the Plateau.

The whole experience was delightful!

Suddenly I realized Fuzzy wasn’t with us. I tried to tell Mom. I got a real worried look on my face, wrinkled up my brow, whined a little bit and ran around in circles sniffing the ground. I sat down and tried to beg a little, then got up and wagged my tail end in a sort of sad drooping way.

Mom just said “Come on Boomer, we have to get back to the truck it’s almost time to change water again.”

That really upset me….”Where was Fuzzy, we couldn’t go without Fuzzy!” I whined and squeaked and really tried to tell them I was worried about my wonderful old friend.
Mom said “Come on.” Sadly I did. The walk back was horrible. I would stop off and on and bay —hoping Fuzzy would hear us and come running.

I tried to bay really, really loud because Fuzzy is losing his hearing and doesn’t always know even when the Mail Man comes.

The whole way back was agony. I was so afraid Fuzzy was going to become bear bait I could hardly go back I wanted to go look for him.

After awhile we made it back to the pickup. Mom told me to get in the back. I couldn’t even jump in I was so sad. She had to pick me up and put me in. I jumped right back out. Then she grabbed me and tied me in.

Blackness just descended…I didn’t know where Fuzzy was and now no one was going to look for him.

It was horrible.

Then I heard Dad say: “Jump in Fuzzy, you should be cool enough now after your swim and you nap under the truck.”

Fuzzy was found!

He was never lost!

He was just sleeping under the truck.

I was so happy I howled with joy when Fuzzy jumped into the back of the truck.

Mom laughed and untied me and I kissed Fuzzy all over the face!

Boomer

Fuzzy Blogging on Friday

Posted on June 3, 2011 by Dayphoto

A Chicken Goes Missing

Mom-mom came up last night and said that a horrible thing had happened at her chicken pen…one of the hens was missing.

I, Fuzzy, was paying lots of attention to what was being said, but Boomer and Hank were not. So I continued to listen very carefully. In order to not repeat everything here are the high points:

Mom-mom only has four chickens
All the chickens love Mom-mom and let her pet them and the kids pack them around
The chickens are only allowed out of the chicken run when Mom-mom is home
Hank doesn’t get to stay close to the chickens because he gets that ‘gleam in his eye’ that Mom-mom doesn’t like
(You know the one whereby we dogs get that fixated look, the mouth begins to drool, and the ears are pricked forward and pointing right at the chicken)

Mom-mom let the chickens out to scratch and scramble in the yard

When it was time to come in for the night one chicken, Fluffy Cluck, didn’t return

There was no body, no pile of feathers, no evidence of any kind of what may have happened to Fluffy Cluck

I knew I was going to have to find out; it would also give me a chance to show Boomer how to find lost chickens.

I waited until Mom-mom and the kids and Hank went home, Mom and Dad finished their chores and went inside for the night.

It was a beautiful moonlit night. Boomer was up for the adventure so off we went. We took a short-cut through the little growing corn plants, if Dad saw us he would have yelled at us to get out of the corn field, but (he he) Dad was inside.

We made it down there in no time, I headed straight there, but Boomer had to follow his nose everywhere but straight. That boy!

Once there I told Boomer what we were up to and what we had to do—find Fluffy Cluck! I bet she was somewhere in the yard or under a bush pile, maybe down by the goat pen hiding out in the jump’n pile.

See Mom-mom puts these logs all together so the two goats can climb and jump and play ‘King of the Mountain’ if they want too.

We checked to see if Hank was hanging out until it was time for him to go inside and sleep next to Blade’s bed, he wasn’t outside.

I was a little disappointed I thought it might give me a chance to teach Hank something too.

Anyway off we trotted to the hen house….yep everything was locked up tight, no open doors, the big human door was shut, the door to the run was shut, I had Boom jump up to see if the nest boxes were closed (he enjoyed that) yep– they were. The gate to the run was shut.

Good. All as it should be.

Now to find the hen or what happened to the hen.

Boomer was all business, I showed him the smell of Fluffy Cluck, Boomer had never smelled real live chicken before so for a little while for Boomer to focus.

Once we got all the odors separated out we set out to find out what happened to Fluffy Cluck.

That was one busy bird…whew! Took us at least an hour to follow her zigzag all over the yard, she was here and she was there and she was everywhere. Gradually we sniffed our way to the goat pen…just as I thought. There she was.

We had a long talk with her…she was pretty sleepy and had a hard time focusing but I think we convinced her that she really needed to sleep with the rest of the girls at night.

She told us she had planned on it but she was really enjoying scratching around in the wood pile and when she realized how late it was she was just way too sleepy to make it back to the hen house.

Satisfied that we had accomplished what we sat out to do-Find Fluffy Cluck– we headed back home. We got there just ahead of the time when Dad goes out to check the water (around 1:00 in the morning) so we went with him instead of to bed.

I must say, I’m really rather tired this morning, but Boomer says he is ready to go and do something again.

Kids.

Fuzzy

First Marriage in Delta County

Fuzzy Blogging on Friday

Posted on May 27, 2011 by Dayphoto

Boomer and Hank Find a Badger

Youngsters sure know how to get in trouble, yep they do. I’m really glad I’m not a kid anymore; some of those lessons young whelps have to learn are just hard.

And the one Boomer and Hank learned is one I never had to learn, ever. Maybe it helps that I have always been an outside dog with an important job to do. I was born and raised a cow dog, I’ve seen lots of things over my years, and some lessons I just didn’t learn b.e.c.a.u.s.e. I used my ol head.

Well, we were all at the upper end, Mom-mom and Hank, me and Boomer and Mom and Dad. We were setting the water for the day, no wait a minute for the first four hours of the day. (That is why the little kids weren’t with us—6:00 in the morning is just way too early for those little mites).

Anyway, we were all up there, I was hanging around the ditch because I well, I like the water. I like to bite at the bubbles in the water and I like to get in the water and splash about. Boomer and Hank had trotted off to the pasture and then I saw them sniffing along moving into the brush on top of the hill.

Wait! I’ll let Boomer tell the story—

Well, you see, we were just sniffing along, well actually I was sniffing along, that is how I travel sniffing along seeing what is there and what has been there, Hank he likes to look about. We work well together I’m the nose and he is the eyes. Anyway, we were moving along when all of a sudden we came up on a flat, black sort of skunk-like animal. Geez, neither Hank nor I had ever seen such an animal before. It really didn’t look like anything normal. Hank said it didn’t look like a skunk and he said it didn’t smell like a skunk. I haven’t seen a skunk so I took Hank’s word for it.

Right off we both, decided the best thing to do was set up a bark….maybe Fuzzy would come over and tell us what this was and what to do about it. We started barking as loud as we could WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! BARK! BARK! HOOOOOOOOOW!

Fuzzy didn’t come, neither did Mom or Dad.

We decided maybe we would stop barking and just go on down the hill and see what animal this was. Throughout our furious barking the animal didn’t even move just kept on digging at whatever it was digging at.

“Shall we go find out what it is?” asked Hank.

I agreed and off we ran to the bottom of the hill and screeched to a stop right where the busy not-skunk was working.

“Hey You” Hank called “What are you and what are you doing?”

The not-skunk stopped his work and looked at us; suddenly he showed us his very sharp little white teeth and growled.

WHEW! That was startling. Hank jumped back with a squeak and I backed up hurriedly because I was just about to put my nose on him and give a good sniff.

“I’m a badger” he growled.

Suddenly the badger turned around and took off running as fast as his legs could go.

We learned that Badgers can run real fast.

Both Hank and I filled our lungs with fresh air and gave the Badger a huge blast of barking. I was hoping Fuzzy would hear and come, I forget that Fuzzy doesn’t hear very well, still I was hoping.

We broke into a trot, barking and baying as we followed. Then the badger was gone.

Just gone.

I had to start sniffing and snuffling along until I caught his scent then I followed him to a hole in the ground.

Hank took over at that point, he started digging and pawing at the hole cause he wanted to see where the little guy lived. Dirt was flying everywhere. Sometimes so thick I couldn’t even see Hank.

Suddenly the badger appeared and grabbed Hank’s ears with both of his paws and started pulling Hank’s head down toward his mouth. That badger was so mad he was hissing (did you know badgers can hiss, well they can, and they can also get really mad. REALLY MAD!).

That badger threw both Hank and I into Panic Overload, we both hit reverse and starting throwing up dirt in an effort to get away. I looked back once and that flat little stubby legged monster was still coming after us. We both yelped and ran all the way back to Fuzzy and our people. Scared the living tar out of both of us!

As we tore our way out of the sage and Chico brush (Hank was leading the way) I decided that I wasn’t going to ever mess around with a badger ever again. I was running so fast I ran right into Mom, she didn’t laugh either. Dad said for Mom-mom and Mom to go up the hill and see what scared the dogs so bad.

When they got back they told Dad there was a rather big, mad badger up there digging out a hole so they figured us dogs must have stirred it up.

Thats when Fuzzy told me badgers don’t truck being messed with, ever.

I told Fuzzy I don’t think I have EVER seen anything with such LONG claws, Hank he just shivered and hung right by Mom-moms side until Mom-mom said: “Move. Hank! I can’t even bend over to get a siphon tube.”

Yep, I’m glad there are some lessons I never had to learn.

Fuzzy

Changes in Delta County

Fuzzy Blogging on Friday

Posted on May 20, 2011 by Dayphoto

This is Boomer,

Fuzzy said I could have my say, Fuzzy is really cool. Just like Mom calls him, she calls him a Cool Dude.

I agree! Geezz he lets me do all sorts of stuff with him, we bark at the mailman, the UPS driver, the FedEx lady.

The fun part of living here is I get to do ‘stuff’. Fuzzy does stuff so I am learning to do all sorts of things.

We bark at birds. That is really fun. I get to jump HIGH when I bark at the birds; we chase them out to the alfalfa fields.

Of course the Swallows do NOT pay us any attention; they just keep on flying and eating all the flying bugs in the air. Now those Starlings….those sneaking things like to swoop, or hop or somehow sneak in and get our dry kibble. Fuzzy hates the kibble, but I like it. He says it tastes like sawdust, I don’t think so. I can taste all sorts of good things in the food.

Anyway, those Starlings are a little hard to manage, but we watch for them and we give the really good bark when we see them. You know the bark….loud and long. I do my really cool hoooooooooooooow and they fly off. Most of the time they have a kibble in their beaks but sometimes we scare them enough they drop the kibble! HEE HEE

Another cool thing I’m learning to do is ride in the back of the pickup. I know how to ride in a car….I sit real close to the driver and I stare straight ahead. I used to ride all the time. But Mom and Dad say I have to learn to ride in the back of the pickup because there isn’t room up front for them and us two dogs.

It was really scary right at first. I would jump out the moment I got in the back; gradually Mom figured out that if Fuzzy got in first then I would stay with Fuzzy. We are working on me not jumping out the second the truck stops. I am getting better at it…I really scared Mom one time because I jumped out at the sale barn. She was really mad at me for that. I guess I scared her real bad, so now I stay until she calls me and says I can get out. Boy is it ever hard to do. Fuzzy told me to sit still so we can go more often…but man there are so maaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnyyy cool things to look at and to smell!!!!

I’m staying because my choices are to either stay home (by myself) or be tied up in the back. (She does that when we are at the sale barn now). My goal is to ride like Fuzzy.

I’m practicing,

I really am.

Boomer for Fuzzy on Friday

Many Mountain Lions Roam the Area

Fuzzy Blogging on Friday

Posted on May 13, 2011 by Dayphoto

Today I thought I just might introduce you to Hank…the grandchildren— named him Hank the Cow dog. You know, after that famous Hank the Cow Dog of John R. Erickson fame.

But I’m here to tell you he is no Cow Dog. I’m a cow dog, born, bred and raised cow dog. I spent my first five years working cows, riding on hay wagons, and keeping coyotes out of the calf pens. Hank is No cow dog. I tried to tell them that the very first time he showed up on the place. (Just like every cat and dog on the farm he was a throw-away.)

I tried to tell them he is really a marshmallow, this dog is soft! Soft! Finally the family has started to see that and they call him Hanky-puff.

They better never hang something like that on me!!!

Huff!

PUFF?!?! Heavens I would die, if they ever called me a Puff!

Anyway, Hank really is a puff, he stays in the house 90% of the time playing with the kids, (Mom even laughs because they lay all over him like some sort of big pillow), eating the cats food, hanging out with the Mom-Mom always.

Me, I let the kids pet me, but that is about it. I’m a working dog and I want to keep it that way. I would never bite or hurt the kids in anyway. But they do have to, well, stay in their place.

Hank seems to always, I do mean a.l.w.a.y.s be hungry. That boy can put away sacks of cat food and dog food and anything else he can get his big white teeth on. Mom says that’s because he is a growing dog, he is just now a year old.

Boomer rather enjoys Hank showing up…which reminds me Hank never comes over (we are two fields away from his house) unless he comes with his people. Me—well, when Checkers was still alive I would trot down there and visit at least once maybe twice a day. I don’t go now either, just too hard on the old joints.

Anyway, back to Hank and his chowing down. Sometimes Mom gives us dry kibble. I much prefer the canned stuff, but she says dry as cardboard dust kibble is good for our teeth so we need to eat some of it too. I barely eat at it…blahhh, sure does taste…like sawdust. Boomer doesn’t care…he eats it. Says he is GLAD to have it. Heck Boomer is just plain glad to be here.

I usually just sort of munch at it, Boomer slicks his right off the bowl, even licks it clean.

Because I don’t really eat my food it means there is always food setting out when Hank shows up.

If I’m not paying attention he scarf’s the whole thing down and then heads off looking for any bones or something else he can eat. I swear that dog is a bottomless pit.

But, if I get there in enough time….I tell Hank he can go eat birdseed.

This bowl is mine. Then I hurriedly eat every last morsel because if I don’t….well you know what will happen.

Fuzzy

Sanders is Early Day Builder in Delta, Colorado

Fuzzy Blogging on Friday

Posted on May 6, 2011 by Dayphoto

For some reason I think I am the only dog with any real sense around here. Sure I’m old, I’ve lived here for 6 years, but I lived with my first master for around 5 years. I’ve blogged about that before. Enough said on that subject.

Anyway, I’ve lived here 6 years and I want you know that I love living here. All the food I want to eat, birds to bark at, Dad’s four-wheeler to run by (when I feel like running) and Mom to do all sorts of stuff with.

Well, sometime last winter, no wait was it last fall, hummm, maybe it was late last summer, our family acquired another dog. Now mind you, I really don’t like other dogs, I never encourage them to stay I put on my mean face and I snarl and snap at them. I refuse to share this cushy life I have with any other dog.

That was how it was until Boomer came. Boomer picked us. My folks found him out on the back 40 and took him to another place that wanted him clear down on the river about 6 miles away from us. Three days later Boomer was back sleeping in my dog house, full of porcupine quills and thin as a slat board. He looked at me, then at Mom and Dad, with this huge goofy Beagle grin of his and well….who could resist him?

Mom went down and got him his very own dog house and a soft and fluffy bed with snuggle blankets just like I have. Sometimes I take Boomer’s house and bed but he doesn’t mind he just takes mine. I do NOT share my dog food, I even show Boom my teeth every once in awhile, but he still just grins and goes on. I found out one day that my dish of food is an exact replica of Boomers. Geez, who would have thought?!

Also, Boomer is a city dog, he was never very far from wherever it was he lived, had the thinnest fur you have ever seen on a dog, knew nothing about farm living, had never seen a real live rabbit. Boomer told me that he had lots of stuffed toys, but they really never hopped and ran. (Who has ever heard of stuffed toys? Me I love squeaky rubbery things that do stuff like bounce and …wait I’m getting off the subject)

Just know that Boomer was a city dog through and through, he had a lot to learn and I and Mom and Dad have been opening up his horizons.

Anyway, this Farm Friday post is about this—-

The tractor and planter (that’s Sam, he thinks he runs the place)

Normally Dad parks the tractor in the shed and he put the planter away in its own special little spot that has a cover to keep the weather off the planters. But because Dad has been planting corn…I LOVE helping plant corn, well I used to love to plant corn. I would run beside the tractor as Dad headed toward the field he was going to plant and then I would wait at the end (by the water) of the field and snooze, or I would run around looking for rabbits or squirrels or other exciting things, then I would head home again with Dad when he was done.

I don’t do that so much anymore and since I don’t go out with Dad, Boomer doesn’t know how to do that. Gosh, in reality he is a really good dog, whatever I say goes. And he always has a goofy smile on his face. Who could ever get mad at that!?

Anyway, back to the story….last night was a really nice evening. Heck Boomer and I really liked it a lot so we didn’t go to bed when it got dark out. We just sat on the back step, well I sat on the back step and Boomer sat in the swinging chair we were just shoot’n the breeze talking about the day as the night got darker and darker and darker.

Now Dad, had not put the tractor and the planter away, he left it right where you see it. I don’t see as well as I used to so I really didn’t notice anything unusual, besides I knew that Dad parked his tractor there sometimes.

The lights went out in the house but Boom and I, we continued to sit there and chat, Boomer really likes me to tell him stories about my life so that was what we were doing… when Boom had to go relieve himself. Off he trotted in the same direction as the tractor WOOF! Boomer was baying up a storm, since I don’t see or hear right well anymore I thought I had better get out there and help him scare off whatever it was he was baying at.

Boy, did we put up a good bark. Woke up Mom who came out, turned the outside light on and walked all around with us looking for ….she was afraid that some critter was out there stalking her cat Sam. (Sam thinks he runs this place). So we all walked together, Mom and her flashlight and us with our tails wagging and Boomer doing an occasional bay or two.

Back at the porch Mom gave us both hugs and told us “Thanks for keeping everyone safe”, but that it looks like whatever it was is now gone.

Just as soon as Mom went in and turned out the light Boomer got all afraid again and started up that rack of baying. Back out came Mom, around we go again. Nothing!

This goes on for about 20 minutes. Finally Mom comes outside without turning the light on, walks to where Boomer is having a fit and realizes he is upset because the tractor is there.

Shish!

Well, many minutes later of sniffing and hanging out at the tractor and planter Mom talks to Boom about the tractor and gives us both a dog treat and heads back inside.

I went to bed. I was tired. All that barking (I helped) wore me out and Mom was a little miffed (although, I swear I saw her smiling and a chuckle escaped every now and again) as she walked Boomer around the tractor and planter.

I hear Boomer start in baying again. This time DAD got up. “SHUT UP BOOMER!”

Boomer went to bed after that. I asked him the next morning, why he felt like he had to keep on barking…he told me he thought they would bring out another dog cookie.

I told him… “I guess you carried it too far.”

He agreed.

Fuzzy

First White Child in Delta County