This evening I took Tucker to the lake. We saw the Reeds Lake Monster. (The Lock Ness monster Reed’s Lake Version.) It was kind of scary. However, it was not as scary as the motorcycle. That was really scary, right Tuck?
Well, actually I took him to the lake on the 5th of July as well, and that is when we had the motorcycle incident. I sometimes forget that even though he is nearly as large as Browndog, he is still a baby. And it showed when that big, bad motorcycle fired up and he nearly took my arm off running to hide.
It took me nearly five minutes to stop his shaking and to get him to walk back to the car. This is the puppy that fearlessly hunts fireflies, barks at butterflies, the silly goat thing in the neighbor’s yard, doorbell on television, my wife’s text alarm which sounds eerily like the doorbell and every little noise he may or may not hear… And the same puppy that hid under the car the first time a plane flew over. He sounds tough, but he isn’t.
I almost had to carry him back to the parking garage in Gaslight Village but he eventually decided he could walk on his own. You know the one I am talking about with the entrance that looks kind of like a large Va-Jay-Jay as you look at it from Wealthy Street.I guess it is supposed to be some abstract sailing thing, but it looks like a vaginaart to me…Jus’ sayin’…
He could not wait to jump into the safety of the truck. After all that excitement we came home and took a nap so I did not blog this yesterday. Thankfully, because I may not have seen the Reed’s Lake Monster and I cannot see any point in blogging about the same thing two days in a row.
They do not all sound the same, I hope?
However, until I perfect the napblogging –interface-device, which BTW I am feverishly working on in my spare time, you will have to wait for blogs. When I figure it out; watch out world, it will be blogs-a-poppin’. (Gratuitous 70’s show reference, Jugs- a Poppin’)
I will share with you that I am having a bit of difficulty with a couple of the complex equations, way too long an complex to share in one blog, so suffice to say they are not just your averagebear type math. They are not just a+ b= c. They are not Chicago Math either. They are Goodwill Hunting and Contact type equations; I will not bore you with the math issues.
I have also come up against some flux capacitor ionic compliance and differential ratios that are an m-fer and that damn muffler bearing problem. Without the muffler bearing I am sure the blog will be too loud. My blogs are never loud or obnoxious, so a muffler bearing is not necessarily a must but I am
the Last Boy Scout. taking into account the possibilities…
Unfortunately, I cannot do both a nap and a blog. And I cannot do without the occasional nap. I have to get in shape for the Lions football season, when a nap is a necessity or you will suffer a stroke or heart attack. I can think about what to blog, but I am typing challenged enough without trying to type while lying down.
While I have yet to find a volunteer to do my edits, and hence I do my own, it would be most difficult reading line after line of jdfklahgoiqhfglnvlkdg; and then… jkagjlikajf a m-fer……….jfglkajgiahjgrhjtrpp Jus’ sayin’…vnlkn ajg;ovm Blah, blah, blah iajfakrakv;lsfbna….ldvmzkl v’alkjv’oiaj;lMc;dkgtjoigh;amv;l I know the case could be made that the previous lines were no different the typical bloggerish I spew out about 3 times per week…Jus’ sayin’…
So all rambling digression aside we went to the lake. Tucker is A WATER DOG!!!
Whew!!! We can all take a deep sigh of relief. As some of you know, both Browndog and Whitedog were NOT swimmers. Yes, they were labs, but they were both waterchickens.
We tried to get them engaged with the theory that Labs love water, but they were slightly dogtarded. This is not Dogtucky, but they were the progeny of a brother and a sister. There is a certain degree of inbreeding in purebred dogs. There was more than a bit of it with those two. Their lablessness was disappointing.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved those dogs, but it is kind of like finding out your kids like country music. It is a bit difficult for a rocker parent to understand. I am a choicist; however, so I find nothing wrong
other than the ludicrosity of the perpetual beer cryin and lost my woman stuff with country music but you cannot really grasp why or what unless you are a country fan yourself. Live and let live, I guess…
We took Browndog and Whitedog to Lime Lake for our first attempt. They were not impressed. They tried to drink the water, but did not attempt to swim. They were young so we just put it down as they were too young. I will say that I was a bit worried.
Then we took them to the big lake a few months later. I think Chris still is scarred from this debacle. We did get them out in the water. They did swim. Briefly. But at the first opportunity they tried to claw their way up his back and his chest. Panicked, would be the best description. They panicked. It would be funny if it were not so disappointing. And poor Chris. Good thing he was not dating much back then, because how do you really explain the scratches. Blaming it on the dog, does not work.
Except when you fart, and blame it on the dog, then it is funny.
They went for a boat ride a couple of times as well. That was also an exercise in
stupidity futility. They did not enjoy it. And, no, they did not tell me. They also did not tell me to kill the neighbors. As a side bar the neighbors may have heard me talking about moving their goat. Get a few beers in me on a holiday weekend and my volume may go up. I do not know. It is no longer staring in into our yard. It may have wondered away on its own volition. I may have hurt its feelings. Who Knows?
BTW the dogs did not tell me to kill anyone for that matter. They did look miserable. And since I have a degree in Body Language with an emphasis on dog body language, I could tell. Since I am not easily discouraged, I tried again. It is the last time the boat actually moved by motor power. It is also the last time I took Browndog and Whitedog for a boat ride. They may have jinxed the boat. I think they peed in it, but it would be hard to tell because it does have so many smells that musty odor.
We took Tucker to the big lake over Memorial Day weekend. He had to be lured into the water with a treat. I admit I was worried. My fears were lessened on man/dog weekend, when Tucker swam briefly in the river. Well, he followed his big “brother” Bentley and did not venture in often by himself. I was still not sure.
I took some pictures. I took a ton of pictures. I used a tripod. It worked very well. I still have to learn how to figure out the zoom. It was kind of difficult to get the camera set up far enough away to avoid the dog shake, and get back to take the shot. The great thing about the digital age is not waiting. No surprise pictures of your foot. You can review each shot. Right then... No surprises. All perfect. Except for the zoom…but still no blurry shots!!!
There we were fetching sticks and enjoying the water and then I got the shot. The one that may propel me back to mildly famous stature. I saw it and I took the shot. Camera steady on the tripod. No reason for panic, as the monster was still far away from the shore. I am sure tucker would have peed his fur, as he is a baby,
and scared of many things, but not water! if he knew it was behind him. “Swim, Tucker! Swim!” I screamed. He made it safely to shore just as I snapped the shot. A Pulitzer for sure!!!
long shot monster
close up monster
We can all sleep a little bit better tonight. Tucker is a water dog. And I will soon be mildly famous once again. I got a shot of the Reed’s Lake Monster. You can say it looks kind of like Tucker, but with a tripod, like I said, there is no way I could have had taken a bad picture. So it really can’t be Tucker. It is the Reeds Lake Monster.
Well, it could be Tucker. Doesn’t matter!!! TUCKER IS A WATER DOG!!!
Just another day in paradise