Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts

Sunday, January 9, 2011

RIP Ch Lajosmegyi Bator Bulcsu

Born November 17th, 1998. Died January 8th, 2011. He was only 12 years old, but lived a long life to the old age of 84. Known to the family under many names, Bully, The Ancient One, Speed Bumb, Butt Chips and the favorite, Black Balls, he lived a long easy fairly simple life, walking the yard, eating, drinking, and barking at ghostly sounds echoing throughout the house, like the door bell ringing on the TV. In his early years Bully traveled the country showing off his perfect coat and walk, becoming a Champion in the show ring. For the past 9 years he has guarded vigorously the inhabitants of his house hold, usually from the top of the steps where he made sure no one went any further, and if they attempted to he would lick them lovingly in the face.  

He leaves behind him 9 siblings, the results of a one night stand. They have been scattered across the US and also are showing or guarding livestock.

During his last 4 years, he became friends with three Whippets, Razzie, Billi and Meme – and two Italian Greyhounds, Ator and Zuri. I think they kept him young at heart and happy, no matter how much it looked like they were annoying him. (I think he secretly enjoyed swiping his paws at the Iggys, making them think he was going to have them for breakfast.)

He will be missed by all of us, and I am sure he is in a better place.

Monday, January 3, 2011

The Ancient One

Authors note: I wrote this last week for the Mention Monday, but it got lost because of a case of stupidity  a computer error. I am glad I found it. If you ever wondered "What are they really thinking?" read on!

The Ancient One awakens, first startled by the sound of foot prints sinking into the surrounding carpet. ‘Is it time? he wonders as the creature that woke him up releases the bouncing little young ones. They drive him nuts and he knows they are bothering him on purpose. No matter how much he tries to grab them to settle down, they just move too fast for him. ‘I am so happy there are only two of those,’ he thinks. As he tries to lift his weight off the floor the door closes so he lies back down.

It seems like an eternity to him, he is thirsty, hungry and he wants to play in the ‘outside’ as his pack leaders call it. He doesn’t have to wait long, the Master that left returns carrying the two little ones that hop. He calls them trouble1 and trouble2. Trouble2 smells of pee.

The Troubles are returned to their cage and the leader walks out – leaving the door open! This is his chance, the ancient one thinks, as he uses all of his strength to raise his old body. He stumbles along, walking up and down the hallway in search of an open bowl to drink from. It figures that this Master has closed them all. ‘He does that every morning because the smaller younger Masters never listen as well as I do.’ Giving up his search, he realizes that he too must go ‘outside’ because it is time. The ancient one continues his journey through the dark house until his ears pick up the click clack of someone tapping in one of the rooms. He enters the room, waiting for his old eyes to adjust. Now he sees him, the glow of two dimmly lit monitors and the well used keyboard highlighting his face.

He smiles, as best he can, and wags his thick 13 inch tail, banging it on the wall. The Leader raises his head, the dark brown eyes looking over the black framed glasses, and the Master lets out a long sigh. He rises from his workspace, the body cracking in joints he didn't remember having and the ancient one is happy, once again.

His tall lean body seems to bend like a snake as he turns around and heads back into the hallway. At the top of the steps leading down into the dark depths of the house he pauses, glancing at the Master with the never ending frown on his face. He looks down the treacherous steps, he has taken the easy way before, and it was quicker that one time he did a belly slide. He's had a little more trouble getting up recently and he didn't want to chance it again. He waits, looking up and then down the steps, waiting for the stupid human to get the message. It doesn’t take as long as it usually does. The light comes on as he grumbles.

With carefully measured steps, one at a time, he makes it down the stairs, almost losing his footing when he touches the floor as each leg tries to go in a different direction. He catches himself quickly and lumbers on; the Master is in front of him as it should be. He has to take each step carefully because the soft things covering the floor, rugs, he thinks they are called, have been disappearing. No one hears him when he tells them he really has to go to the outside, and if he is old, well he cannot do anything about that. Sometimes he can’t hold it.

Finally he feels the cold wind on his face; the ‘outside’ is getting closer. It is a little slippery out on the white stuff, but it tastes good and is almost as good as water. The coldness numbs his tongue so his noise is low and hushed. He walks around the guard points, making sure all is as it was yesterday and no intruders have entered the area. Once he feels all is safe, it is time to return.

But he is lost, turned around and disoriented, his brain can’t remember directions anymore and sometimes he can’t even see. He remembered the time he ran into Master and fell down. Noise and smiles came from the Masters, young and old. He felt embarrassed, but couldn’t figure out why!

Finally, he spots the light that leads to the inside and soon stands in front of the door. He can’t see anyone moving around so he tries to tell them he is done and wants to come inside where it is warm. As his noise becomes more urgent the Master finally opens the door.

Safely inside, he shakes any of the cold white stuff off that he can, almost falling on his chest again. The Master disappears after the entrance is closed so the old one follows. Soon he comes to more steps – these are going up – that’s where his Master went. One sniff of the ground and he smells the fresh scent lingering over the older ones. His mind is slow, but he recognizes all, the Troubles’, the medium ones that look like the Troubles, there are three of them, one female, he likes the female best but they won’t let him do what he is supposed to do when it is her time. The Masters keep saying ‘No Komopitts!’ He calls them the Chasers
He focuses his mind; he needs to get upstairs and soon stands above the slanted drop off. That was a little tiring so he decides to patrol, making sure all the Masters are home safe and sound. One is missing. He walks to the room she is usually in, sniffs the Master at the desk, the garbage can, the Master makes a horrible sound and he backs away. More pacing until he feels the urge and once again stares at the Master, one soft throat clearing cough gets his Master’s attention and he is also glared at for his efforts.

The Master smashes his hands to the desk and stands up. Once again – he takes the treacherous steps to the solid level where he is let out again. After remembering why he returned to the cold outside he heads to his favorite spot and marks it as his own. This time it takes a while longer for the Master to come when he calls. ‘Master is not happy, maybe he is doing something.’
After another slow climb, he makes it to the top of the stairs again and decides that this will make a great place to watch over things. His eyes close only for a few moments…

…they open again as the Troubles and the Chasers (called that because they chase after everything – and he hates them because he can’t) are suddenly jumping over him and running down the dangerous steps, “be careful!” he calls to them but they don’t listen. Now both the Masters are up and tell him to move down the treacherous incline again. Not very eagerly he does what they say and is forced, (this time against his will!) back to the Outside. It is colder now; more snow to eat, more walking the designated path checking the line – no breaches again.

It seems like forever since he was forced out here, but he wants to be with his Masters, especially the one that feeds him – but that one is missing today. Suddenly; he hears his Masters footfalls by the door. It is time! But wait… he isn’t letting him inside to enjoy the warmth, just the Chasers and the Troubles! “Don’t forget me! I want to come too! I’m still out here!” he protests in vain.

Finally, they let him back in. No further than where the food is created. He lies on the floor, closes his eyes and sleeps again; waiting till the next time one of the Masters comes back. He knows they are gone, he can’t smell them, but he can smell one and the noisy ones. He sighs, ‘it feels like I did this yesterday…’

Friday, November 19, 2010

My life in a Zoo

I met my wife a little over 9 years ago. She told me she had a couple of dogs. I think it was a little bit more than a couple. The first day I actually visited her house I rang the doorbell to the sound of what I thought were an army of dogs.



I didn’t meet them right away, we watched some DVD’s on her ex-husbands big screen TV with his super expensive DVD player. Then I met the dogs: one very calm and polite Airedale, two watchful Komondors, one male, and one female about 5 years old, their showing days over, they were now retired. She also had one Komondor that was about two years old, her showing days had just begun.



About a week after she tossed her ex to the curb, the older Komondors decided to have a little unauthorized fun. The heavy breathing woke her up, but she didn’t want to deal with it. I don’t blame her. The outcome was nine puppies. Yes, she had a total of 13 dogs!
My mind was saying “Run!” My heart wasn’t. I stayed, married her eventually. Attended her dog shows for a while and a little ways down the road of life; we managed to sell off or give away the nine puppies and the youngest of the pack. We were left with three. Now three dogs I can handle!



Soon after we settled down and stopped showing, a cat followed the daughter home (yeah, right!). We decide to keep it, even if the Airedale was known for catching cats, it stayed in her room.



A couple years down the road, the Airedale died of cancer, a very sad time for all; she was a Champion and always well behaved. We were now happy with two, it was easy – except for when the female went into heat and we had to separate them. She could have taken care of that, but both dogs were approaching old age now. She didn’t want to risk it.



Four years ago, the female started slowing down, and we decided to get one more dog. I choose this time, a Whippet. Known for their speed and prey drive these dogs were awesome racers, and that is a main reason why we got them. I wanted to race them.

( Meeme, Razzie, Billie)

Now we had three Whippets, one cat, and two Komondors. When the female Kom began to pass, we helped her along, it was a hard decision, but it was time. She went quietly – just the sobs of the family ringing through the Vets office.
About a month later, she was ready to get another one. Maybe a little one this time, a lap dog that she could cuddle up with when I worked second or third shift. After some research, and a lot of looking, she found a breeder of Italian Greyhounds. We went there one night to buy one. We walked away with two – a brother and sister.


The male Komondor, Bully, is still with us, he is getting old, 77 in human years, and has a little trouble standing and going up the steps and holding his bladder – but he is happy, even when the Iggies pay a little too much attention to him. All three whippets are getting along fine, except when the female is in season. I hope this is the last year that we have to separate them when they go outside, it is a pain.









Our ferret count totaled out at 7 eventually and the daughter added 2 rats to her collection. The rats and cat still share the same room – the rats in a cage where the cat just stares at them. The ferrets were old when we first got them, now there are three left. A young one she adopted off of a friend that didn’t want it and two old ones. They are hanging in there.

A basket full of ferrets!

The dominate Whippet male, Billie, has picked up a good habit from the ancient Komondor – he is our guard whippet and will bark every time the bell rings, even if it is the TV. We don’t race them as much as we use to, only because they seem to be out of state and further than we can afford to travel – but they get their exercise.
Me? Well I am a survivor – between letting them outside a few times a day, we manage to keep the messes down. They behave for the most part. Besides feeling like the underpaid kennel help sometimes, life isn’t too bad.


Razzie is wearing number 5
Billie is right beside him in blue

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Why so frakin early?

That's simple really, it started as a soft whimper, whispering from the other side of the room. Slowly it began to grow more urgent. We (I) did set the clocks back last night, but my brain was so fuzzy I didn't know if it was 1:30 am or 2:30 am.
It really didn't matter, some one had to go out and water the lawn. After I took the two littlest out, started the coffee pot, brought them back in and put them away, grabbed a lightly tanned cup of coffee and sat down in my office, it was the old ancient ones turn.
Once he was taken care of, I finally started up the computer, clicked on the WoW beta icon, and nothing happend.
This was actually a good thing. Yesterday, as I was fishing through my writing notebooks, I found three different bios I had written for my detective and four short stories, and one long one, that I had started. Never finished them.
Now, I had a chance to figure out where I was, and which one I should do first.
Only interrupted once, an hour after I let him out, the old ancient one hobbled into my office and stared at me for a few seconds before a low cry began to grow from his throat.
"Let me guess, again?"
Just a low quiet roar came out as an answer.
"That's a yes," I sighed.
There are only a few times the old man gets really excited, when he thinks he is getting food, which is every time someone enters the kitchen, or he gets to go out side.
Or that certain odor is in the air and he is thinking, "Maybe this time!"
Once the five trips up and down the steps were done I began. Now I'm organized, (don't have a heart attack) and ready to work on them.
First one will be a short story, a way of introduction.
I'll be back once I get the feeling back in my finger tips.
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