Danny and the Terror
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Is she gone yet?[/caption]
I’m back! It is I, Danny the Dog, everyone’s favorite dog. I took a few days off from my writing chores so my human, Andrew, could use the computer. He had to work on some book he wrote. I told him I’d do it for him, but no; he said I don’t write in the same style as he does. Well duh! I’m so much better at writing than he is.
If I remember correctly, in my last story I told you how fearless I am. And I am fearless, however, I have a story to convey that I am not proud of. At first, I was not going to tell you about it, but Andrew says that if I’m going to write about myself, I have to tell of my foibles as well as my strengths. I didn’t know I had foibles, but if I do, perhaps I should see a vet and have them checked out.
Well, I’ve dilly dallied long enough, here’s my sad tale (no pun intended).
Andrew has this friend, a female friend. Yeah I know. I too was surprised that he had a friend, let alone a female friend. But during my long life, I’ve been witness to stranger things. So this friend, whose name is Suzanne, came to visit last week and she brought her dog with her. Now, I am peaceful dog, I come from a long line of peace loving dogs. In fact, my father was so peaceful, he only bit the mailman once a week. But as all of my canine readers will attest to, when a new dog comes onto your turf (or boat in my case), you have to assert your dominance. And in this instance, that was not going to be a problem.
The little critter was tiny. I wasn’t sure if it was a dog or a hairy rat. Andrew, knowing my ways, tied me to a tree so I couldn’t get to the little monster. But I wasn’t giving up. I barked my head off and strained against that insidious leash. And ultimately my efforts paid off, but now I wish they hadn’t. I was tied to a thin branch and it finally broke, freeing me to go and teach that interloper a lesson. I wasn’t going to hurt her, just let her know who was boss.
I ran full force right at the little thing, and instead of cowering or running away as any normal small dog would do, she turned and faced me, bared her teeth and started barking at me! I was so unprepared for this turn of events, that I screeched to a halt (and this is the hard part to tell), turned tail and ran. I ran right to the boat, jumped inside and hid under the bed. And do you want to know what the worst part was? As I ran, I could hear Andrew laughing his rear end off. Or as you puppies would say, LHAO.
The conclusion to my sad story is that eventually I made friends with the little terror. Her name is Maui, and for a little female rat dog, she’s not a bad sort. But she does tend to boss me around a lot.
And as for Andrew, he will never let me forget it. Sometimes when he’s at the computer, he’ll break out laughing, turn to me and in a sickening, sugary voice say, “How’s my big brave doggie doing? You better watch out, there are a few mean looking cats around.” I could just strangle him at times.
I have to be going, I have an appointment at the vet’s to get my foibles looked at. Until next time dog lovers.
Cold Water
If we pollute our air, if we poison our water how will we live? How will our children live? Kill our mother earth, how will we survive?
To some it does not matter. All that matters to these souls is that profit is made; that money is deposited into an account.
The road shines bright . . . can you see the light? It shows the path . . . the path that Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu, Gandhi and Mohammad tried to lead us down.
Another old soul that tried to show us the way was Henry Thoreau. His message was “simplify.”
Why do we need so many physical accoutrements? Why do mothers have to work and not take care of their young ones? Is it to buy things not needed and when bought put in a storage facility after tiring of the thing bought?
We here in America have so many unneeded material possessions we have to pay a monthly fee to house them for us. There is a storage business on almost every corner in America.
This is only a short missive to throw cold water on your worldview. Live your life … enjoy the sunrise … look to what God had wrought. As long as you eat daily … as long as you are dry when it rains … as long as you love and are loved … what more is needed? All we need is love … to give and to receive … all else will follow.
As my friend Little White Dove would say, “Many blessings upon you.”
Danny and Thunder
I am fearless. I am Danny the Dog and (to be redundant) I fear nothing. I chase squirrels chickens, raccoons, ducks and of course, cats. However, there is one thing that kind of gets to me, and that is thunder. I don’t know why that is. My human, whose name is Andrew, told me I should go to a doggie psychiatrist and have a past life regression. He said maybe in a past life I had a run in with Thor, the god of thunder. Did I ever tell you that Andrew is an idiot?
Usually I have very little to do with Andrew. I take him for a walk a couple of times a day. I allow him to feed me and give me treats, but for the most part he goes his way and I go mine. But when it thunders, I want to be as close to him as possible. He’s always on the computer. He went nuts a few years ago and threw the television out the window and he hasn’t replaced it yet. So there he sits, staring at the computer screen day after day. He tells me he’s trying to write, but I know better. Anyway, back to me.
So when it thunders I crawl up on his lap and come between him and his precious computer. But I have to hand it to the old reprobate, he stops what he’s doing, puts his arm around me and tells me not to worry.
As soon as the storm passes, I jump down and go back to ignoring him and he goes back to whatever it was he was doing. He was probably on a dating site begging some poor female to go out with him.
The above picture was taken during the height of a thunderstorm. I want you all to know that I usually don’t look so forlorn. Now if you will excuse me, there’s a mother duck and her babies swimming by our boat (do ducks swim?), and I must bark at them. After all, this is my turf and I must defend it to the last bark because I am fearless.
Monday's Quote
Sunday's Quote
Danny and the Alligator
We slog through the antediluvian swamp, a diaphanous mist rises from the quagmire and a miasmal stench fills our nostrils. The authorities are pursuing us, though we have done nothing wrong. Well, Andrew (my human) has done nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, bit a man, a big fat, obnoxious slob of a man. He had it coming to him; he said I was the ugliest dog he had even seen. Me, Danny the Dog!
After I bit him, he pulled out his cell phone and called the cops, but Andrew and I didn’t stick around and wait for them to show up, we hightailed out of there. Now we are hunted fugitives, with the law closing in. Andrew always told me I’d go to Doggie Jail if I didn’t mend my sorry-ass ways.
They are close now; we can hear their voices, so we pick up the pace. But the going is slow. The water is up to Andrew’s knees and up to my chin. We maneuver around a large cypress tree, and there, before us, is the largest alligator I’ve ever seen. In fact, it’s the only alligator I’ve ever seen. It has to be eighteen feet long if it’s an inch! Its mouth is wide open, showing the enormous teeth of the monster. I stop short and Andrew, who was behind me, trips over me and falls into that gaping, cavernous mouth. The alligator makes short work of him; now all that is left of my human is his right arm and part of his left leg.
Just kidding folks, Andrew is always telling me I can’t write fiction. I thought I’d show him I could. However, we did meet up with an alligator the other day and I would like to tell you about it.
Actually, there was more than one encounter. The first was three days ago. We were walking in the park where we go every morning. Let me stop and back up for a minute. As most of you know, Andrew and I live in Florida, and the park we go to has a sign saying, “No Swimming because an alligator lives in the lagoon.” Andrew and I never believed it; we had never seen hide nor hair of an alligator. Do alligators have hair? Anyway, back to my story.
It was before daylight and we were walking along the lagoon when we heard a croaking sound, a loud croaking sound. I was intrigued by it; Andrew was oblivious, as usual. I was pulling on the leash and Andrew was a million miles away, probably wishing he was getting laid more.
As we neared the sound, Andrew came out of his coma and said to me, “Where do you think you’re going? The croaking sound that you are rushing to is made by an alligator and you would make a very fine breakfast for him.” Then he yanked on the leash and started to pull me away. I, in turn, tried my passive resistance thing, but to no avail. I was unceremoniously dragged from the park. I started to walk of my own volition only after we were outside the gates.
That was day one. On day two, we heard the croaking again, and as Andrew has given up any hope of getting laid, he heard it at the same time I did. So we left the park tout de suite (that is French for right away, all at once . . . fast).
On day three (this morning), I finally had my encounter with the alligator. It took some maneuvering, but Andrew is easy to outfox. He was intent on picking up mangoes for our neighbor Peggy and he laid the leash down for a moment. That was all I needed. Before he could stop me, I was tearing along the shore of the lagoon, hell-bent on getting to the place I had last heard the croaking.
I rounded a curve at the far end of the lagoon and came face to face with the biggest alligator I’d ever seen, the only alligator I’d even seen. He was not as big as the one in my fictional account, but still, he was big enough for me. I started to bark furiously, knowing my barking would drive him back into the water. However, a funny thing happened. He stood his ground, and he even took a step or two toward me. That, I hadn’t counted on. My first impulse was to turn and run back to Andrew, but that wouldn’t do. Then I’d lose the upper hand that I enjoy in our relationship.
While still energetically barking, I was wondering what my next move should be when the matter was taken out of my paws. From behind, Andrew snatched me up and started running for the street. I squirmed (but not too hard) letting Andrew know I did not appreciate being taken away from my quarry.
On the way home, Andrew told me that I would not get my daily hotdog when we returned home. It was to be my punishment for running away and scaring him half to death. But when we got back to the boat, he gave me my hotdog anyway and scratched me behind the ear. What softy he is.
