My numerous adventures on the Little Stinking netted me an invite to the ranks of the landed gentry, but since I am a member of the working press of Brownlining, I have to use the servants entrance.
As Singlebarbed Dogwalking Services are the stuff of local legend, I get to care for Little Meathead and Big Meathead this week. This is heady stuff, as any dog reference is worth ten times the blog traffic that fishermen generate.
“Little Meathead” is a 60 mph hurricane, he eats, craps, and chases tennis balls in a single breath. “Big Meathead” is an old gal, she can burst up to 6 mph – but has to sleep afterward.
I’ve got 12 acres of walnut orchard bounded by a steep drop into the creek, and while I’m focused on Little Meathead killing everything, Big Meathead perches precariously on the bank. I see the peril, and start to form the “No” with my mouth – too late, Big Meathead is gripped by the Dark Matter surrounding the Little Stinking, and goes arse over teakettle down the bank and into the creek.
Little Meat thinks that ride is for him and does likewise. So I’m topside and dry, and they’re looking at me wondering why I don’t join them.
I try my best “Nice Doggy, C’mere” – and it fails horribly. Big Meathead knows that she can’t make the climb back up, and I know I’m going to have to slide down the bank, grab her and carry her back up.
Did I mention I’m in my work clothes?
I make it to the water’s edge, and repeat the “Nice Doggy” bit, Big Meat wants no part of being carried, and remains in the center of the effluent with Little Meat swimming around in circles.
Briefly I consider my options… I could say, “Jeez, I dunno what happened to them, I showed up and they were gone.” Or I could go wading – in my work clothes.
I’m the Pied Piper of Idjit Dogs, and a casual onlooker would’ve seen me swearing, wading up the creek with two canines swimming behind me. Naturally the first suitable flat spot offered numerous handfuls of Poison Oak, just to make the occasion memorable..
Technorati Tags: dog walking, Poison Oak, swearing, more swearing
Makes me happy I’m a cat person.
Keith, can you shoot me an email at thedaytripperblog@gmail.com ?
Done, sir.
I am starting to think you tried to kill our dog just for the fodder of a good dog blog.
And they got to the back of the Landed Gentry Acres how?!?
No poison oak contact you say..but wait…”offered numerous handfuls of Poison Oak” you say…I swear if I get the Rash of a Thousand Scratches I will come to your house (I know where you live, remember) and get naked and give you the bear hug my Borat-like body is fully capable of offering!
We leave again next week…have fun with the Meathead Twins.
I think I can sell enough walnuts in your absense to cover another set of waders, no worries…