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December 26, 2010


This week's episode: Zippy and Earnest Get Operated On

(Requested by Sharon Chapman)


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Being the proud owner of 2 dogs (one male and one female) who are considered "breeding stock", I can appreciate the temptation to end the semi-annual "episodes". These two are littermates, so they have to be kept apart or closely supervised at those times.

And of course there is always that resistance to having your best buddy "fixed".

I am the proud owner of 3 dogs. 2 chihuahuas and a yellow lab. The chihuahuas weigh about 5 lbs. each. The lab weighs about 120 lbs. I miss the stories about Ernest and Zippy. I guess it's because I've always had a dog and have been through some of the same adventures with mine. Right now the lab's favorite thing to do is eat my ink pens. I'm not sure why but I've had to put all my pens up. I have discovered if you ever want to lose weight just get a lab. They never let you eat all of something. You must give them half because they can give you a look that will break your heart.

btw, pogo, all of my dogs are fixed. It's no big deal. Just snip snip and it's done!

Definitely among my all-time favorites. Thanks for requesting it, Sharon!

Crosses legs and hides the computer from Mrs. Loud. No recurring ideas. Been hit there enough.

One of my favorite Dave columns. I remember laughing out loud at the term "Bagfoot and Satellite Head." I always liked the Zippy & Earnest stories ... I was especially fond of Dave's description of Zippy as the Emergency Backup Dog.

my dog, who is both stupid and fixed, managed to achieve enormous lacerations on his belly or ribcage three times last year. each time he had to wear the cone of shame for three weeks, and each time the tab was about $400. after the third time, the wife and i performed a full-scale search of the property, trying to figure out just what the heck the dog was cutting himself on. we found (eventually, it wasn't easy) a broken golf club shaft. it had been pounded into the ground with the broken end about 6" up. it was among weeds of about the same height at the base of a tree. when i asked my son (who is stupid, but not fixed) he said "oh yeah, i forgot about that".

Thank you! Somehow I had not read this one.

mud - you can't fix stupid.

Speaking of doggie style:

Love is in the air...

Mud: I love the "cone of shame" description...I had never heard that before but it is appropriate.

My home in the Vancouver, Canada, area is adjacent to a 1500 acre forest/park. There are many trails throughout the forest, which translates into many dogs and many horses.

I am a rabid fan of golden retrievers.

My principal golden has developed a strong friendship with a magnificent horse that we frequently encounter in the park. To the point that, whenever we now encounter them in the forest, his owner dismounts and allows my dog to play with her horse.

Each time, for about a half hour, I and the horse's owner watch my dog and her horse romp around, playing, exhibiting nothing but sheer joy.

Given their relative sizes, I continue to be amazed that my dog never gets injured...but even the risk of injury would not prevent me from giving my beloved dog an opportunity to play with his "friend".

Some things in life are priceless...for me...this is one of them...

NCindy - My two dogs are from a line of Border collies started by a friend who died last year. It's an exceptional line of herding dogs. Four litter mates walked away with the bulk of the ribbons from a single sheep dog trial last year. I have to keep the line going. Here`s one

I am not really a dog person, since I was severely bitten as a child. However, my kids talked me into a rescued pup years ago, who is the cutest, kindest dog ever, IMO. He is part lab and part wiener dog. I don't know how that happened, but I'm sure someone on this blog will explain it to me. He has the dachshund body with a lab head/face. He never tries to get my food when I look away, but he does bark steadily until he gets something. He is even tolerant of the demon cat. I love that mutt.

She ain't colorblind - she know's it's a blue ribbon. Very cute. You can tell she can't wait to tweet all about winning.

My labrador wants to know why I'm typing and not feeding her. (She also wants nc to know that she has never chewed/eaten anything she is not supposed to.) Although the drool she produces while in mooch-mode is both prodigious and dangerous. It has an aqueous consistency somewhere between snot and pond slime. Since it's clear, it's easy to step in it and rocket across the tile floor. We need tiny orange construction cones set up around the 'wet zone.'

Years ago, my son and I adopted a Border Collie from the pound after the beloved family German Shepard/Lab passed away. My ex wasn't quite ready to bond with a new dog yet, so he left the care of the dog to my son and I. He was never mean to the dog, just didn't go out of his way to pay attention to it. That dog followed my ex wherever he went. And while she was going through some chewing issues, she never, ever chewed anything that belonged to my ex, just mine and my son's things. It wasn't long before she had worked her way right into my ex's heart. Hands down, that was one of the smartest dogs I have ever owned. The Rat Terrier I have now is the first dog since, that is just about as smart as that Border Collie Was.

If, by any chance, none of you hears from me by, say, around noon tomorrow, please have someone check the bottom of my steep driveway for a plowed-under figure of a frozen man with his fist raised to the sky.

Thank you.

Getting beat by a buncha snowflakes is like getting your ass kicked by a million tiny Smurfs. Somehow it just ain't right.

Meanie, I think Jeff Meyerson lives closest to you. I'm sure he will come dig you out. I thought you guys were supposed to just get a light dusting of snow. That's what they said about us and there is about 5" on the ground and it's 25 degrees outside. We never have snow like this before the middle of January or February. I can't wait to see what the rest of this winter is going to be like.

It ain't right, but that won't change a thing. We are getting hammered, and it's not even half done.

Just burns me up ... unlike THIS in 2010.

Where I grew up, JNOA(just north of Armonk), we sometimes used a front-end loader to clear the snow. Then we'd bank the sides of the driveway for a toboggan run.

My sister's father-in-law was a kindhearted carpenter with a severe heart condition. He was working on a job at the Catholic Church he attended when the Bishop paid a visit. A mutt walked up the aisle and sniffed the Bishop in a very private place. Angrily, he demanded to know who owned that mutt.
Daddy Bill admitted the dog was his. The Bishop immediately petted the mutt. A good carpenter is hard to find, even in a church.
Daddy Bill lived in a house behind the local hospital. When he had his fatal heart attack (he was 52), the dog somehow knew and met the ambulance in the drive.
The dog followed the wagon the two blocks to the funeral home. He refused to leave the door, although he was not allowed in. That dog greeted all the mourners and followed the hearse to the cemetery. He stayed at the grave until Daddy Bill's wife came to get him.
She had not had much use for the dog up until then. He died an old dog under her care.

"Dogs feel very strongly that they should always go with you in the car, in case the need should arise for them to bark violently at nothing right in your ear."
One of Dave's best dog quotes.

*sics blog pitt bulls on spammer* I agree, Mike. My lab is pretty smart except for the eating my ink pen thing but the chihuahuas are a different story altogether. I can be sitting on the sofa. They can be looking at me, see me knock on the wall, and they will still run to the door barking everytime. I had to quit watching Wheel Of Fortune because the sound that's made when the contestant gets a correct letter sounds just like my doorbell and they were driving me crazy because they kept running to the door barking. It didn't matter how many times I yelled, "Shut up d@mmit!" My lab, Daisy, just looks at them like they're nuts.

If we want our labrador to go to the front door, we just say 'pizza.' She will wait there, salivating, like Linus waiting for the Great Pumpkin.

Speaking as a person born one year and 11 days after this column was originally published, I have just one question: What's "Third Class mail?"

Go put your jammies on and go to bed, Matt_R. It's way past your bedtime. Don't forget to brush.

Anyone heard from Meanie?

Jeff? Go dig Meanie out before he freezes to death.

Twenty inches, with drifts up to six feet in places. My smaller car is fifty percent taller today. The sky is bright and sunny, and therefore fist-shaking is just not in order. The French have not surrendered toast is cooking as the coffee brews. Fireplace soon to be ignited.

Good to see you survived the snowstorm, MtB.


Chloe is on Craig Ferguson tonight

/ OT

I think you got ours, nursecindy. It was supposed to be around 5-6 inches Sunday and Sunday night. Instead, we got a major ... dusting. You can hardly even see that now, thanks to very high winds.

No snow here in SoCal. Fist-shaking is ocurring, however, since the lawn needs to be mowed.

We had a border collie/Australian shepherd mix that was incredibly smart. He was too good of a herder and ended up doing a bite/takedown when our daughter was young and had to go to a rescue shelter for a second family.

We were on the road with the dog. We chose to use doggy downers to make the transit better. On the way back home after he had his pills, he realized what was going to happen. He took our daughter out at the knees so that she fell on his back, he lowered her to the ground and settled on her lap. He was going to be d@mned if the kid could get out of his unconscious sight.

Our current dog, a Wheaten Terrier, is only good for peeing on my side of the bed.

I've got WAY too many dog stories to tell ... one will hafta do ...

Our first Westie wuz smart (as are thay all, and terriers in general) ... he could spell ... well, not actually, but if you spelled, he gnu whut wuz goin' on, and got excited or ran and hid, dependin' upon the upcoming event ...

When MB(RH?) had pleurisy, she couldn't lie down to rest, due to the pain. She spent about three days in the recliner, tipped back only a little bit, and wuz able to get a little sleep ...

Raggs wuz simply positive sumthin' wuz worng, so ... he sat on a rug near her chair ... did not lie down, sat ... for 36 hours ... watchin' her ... did not eat, did not do bathroom stuff ... did not drink water ... simply sat, watchin' and guardin' her ...

Finally, when the meds had started werkin' and she wuz able to get up, only then did he resume his normal life of outsmartin' and tormentin' us ... when he wuzn't ignorin' us and whut we told him to do ...

(We're on Westie #4 right now, all "fixed" ... and yet the little white mop wuz tryin' his best to emulate Zippy, with our GSP ... when I saw that, I remembered this column ... tnx, judi, for lettin' us see it again ...

When I was a young RCMP officer, stationed in a little Alberta town named Turner Valley, we were called to attend to the home of an elderly man who had died, presumably about two weeks earlier. Being in the middle of summer, in an essentially closed-up house, it was not pleasant. He had a small dog, to which he was devoted.

The dog had stayed by his bedside, presumably since the elderly gentleman's death. The faithful little pootch was clearly emaciated. When we broke open the door to attend to the deceased, the dog, apparently startled, ran out the door and disappeared.

Well we did the necessary things to remove the body from the house; the mattress upon which his body had been resting was clearly no longer usable, it and other items were taken to the town dump.

A few days later, one of the townsfolk stopped by the office to advise that somehow the dog had found his way to the dump, was laying on top of the mattress, and resisted any attempts to being moved from the mattress or being taken into more habitable conditions. The folks attending the office were obviously concerned about the dog's welfare.

I attended with the local vet. That dog resisted all of our efforts to recover him...he was not prepared to abandon the only thing that he had left that represented his beloved former owner.

Finally the vet gave up, and asked me, as a police officer, to put that poor animal, who at this point was far beyond medical help, out of his misery.

I reluctantly complied...toughest thing that I ever did in my life.

But that day I was privileged to witness the utter, enduring love that a dog could have for its owner.

I have never forgotten.

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