Friday, August 30, 2013

"Just What Is It About Dogs?"

Pierre, the Magnificient is how he was named  before he conned us at the dog pound!

What is it about dogs? My cocker spaniel, which is basically bred to sniff out targets like birds, rabbits, squirrels and such, just does really aggravating things. His nose will be the death of him, either by Mother Nature or me!

I'm spraying to kill weeds and yeh, I know it is not good for the environment. All that has happened to me in the last year, has highly influenced my neglect, and now, I am paying for it. When I'm finished with the last of the herbicides, I'll employ a more green approach.

Anyway, Pierre, as wonderful a pup as he is, loves to run all around our five acres, chasing squirrels, rabbits, birds, toads, turtles, chameleons, bullfrogs and herons. There's a large white egret that circles the pond and squawks at him as he chases it until it is totally out of his sight. He loves to stick his nose in everything. Rabbit pellets are a delicacy to him. His hunting instinct, or should I spell it "InStink", demands that he hide his doggy aroma by rolling around in dead things... and sometimes, even dried animal poop.

This dawg's intense.

Four or five days ago, I checked up on my numerous bluebird houses, assuming wrongfully, that lovebird season was coming to a close. When I checked one house, I noticed three or four small bluebirds all snuggled together in a nest of pine needles. I figured it was only gonna be a few more days before they would fledge.

Anyway, this is a story about my goofy dog. So, yesterday I opened the birdhouse to check on the status of the fledglings, and they were gone. Only one pale blue egg was left, and before I could grab and discard it, the egg rolled out of the nest and fell to the ground, right in front of Pierre's nose.

This dog is never too far away from my feet.

It's only natural that a dog that prizes rabbit pellets as a healthy part of his daily requirement would love a rotten egg or two.

It all happened so fast that I never got to see much of the entree, but what was left was a shredded pale blue egg. Pierre, took one sniff and commenced to rolling his recently coiffed body all up in the smelly, rotten mess.

"PIERRE STOP!" I yelled. 

He looked up at me with this "please forgive me innocent doggy look", and as soon as I turned away to finish cleaning out the box, he decided symmetry was a good thing and rolled the other side of his face and ear into the now shredded mess.

He followed me around the property into a poison ivy patch that I found under some small saplings, and stuck his nose into the Round Up filled area.

"PIERRE, get out of here," I yelled in disgust. "Go away!"

You know, I'm convinced that dawgs understand English, but they only understand it, when it is to their advantage. Though it has never been substantiated by animal experts, in all of my years owning dogs, I have observed that the entire canine world, wild and domesticated, never do anything that isn't pleasurable!

Well, guess where he went off to upon my return to put away the herbicide!

You got it...
Copyright 2013/Ben Bensen III

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