Hi Folks, not much time to write these days but have managed to update our web page:
http://www.kansasmeteorite.com
with some news about the Canyon Diablo Basket meteorite and the Ash Creek a.k.a. West Main Mass now at our musuem. Enjoy, best wishes, Don
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
kevlar dog pants and lemon sucking fun
“The Huntin’ Dogs”
Our episode begins with Sheila receiving word that some guy has lost his hunting dog, an English pointer, a breed commonly used for hunting pheasants. Recently Sheila has been working 6 days a week as a substitute mail carrier for Greensburg and drives about 1000 miles a week on the country roads of Kiowa County. Hence, she sees a lot of rural life every day.
She’s out delivering the mail one recent day and suddenly, hey look, there’s a hunting dog running down the road that matches the description: an English pointer, white with brown patches, pretty skinny, looks like it has been lost for a while, no collar. Sheila puts him in the car and calls him Ace. A short time passes and, holy cats (wait, forget the cats, that’s another story), she sees another hunting dog running down the road that also matches the description of the missing English pointer. Insert déjà vu here. This dog is skinnier than Ace, has a collar but no tags. Sheila picks ‘im up and calls him Deuce.
Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Sheila and new friends come home to husband Don, a well known sucker for a hard-luck story. We survey our new boarders and see they need food, water, worming -- everybody needs a good worming -- and that we have to get some weight on these critters. But the first order of business is to call the fellow who lost his dog. It has to be one of these, right? “Oh, thank you,” he says, “I found my dog and I’m already home in Iowa.”
Well, ahhh, we would want to keep them long enough to get some weight on them and be sure they are healthy. After all, it is Christmas and wasn’t there a mutual attraction between baby Jesus and the critters in the manger? I always thought so, and thought that the animals could speak at midnight on Christmas Eve. I’ve since learned they speak all the time. You just have to listen. Anyway, we called the sheriff, humane society, placed an ad in the newspaper and hoped for the best.
By now we’ve had our fill of déjà vu. Ten dogs is over our limit. After all, we have eight and our new friends make it ten. We’re in danger of becoming like people you hear about on the news, except that our non-human friends are neutered or spayed. Maybe we’re hoarders but not breeders. I know what causes this in me, a deep seated psychological issue hammered into my psyche during youth (no, not the Helsinki syndrome) but who the hell cares as we still have 10 dogs.
Ace is a friendly sort and his presence becomes known in the neighborhood. Soon there is a glimmer of hope. People are interested in these two fine fellows and several folks have expressed interest in “the huntin’ dogs”. Great, off Ace and Deuce go to find their fortunes with some real nice folks. On his first day with his new master, Duece goes out in the field, displays his knowledge of bird searching and shows excellent serpentine form. No birds but so far so good. Now the story of Ace. He’s out with his new human and is displaying excellent form in the field. He finds a bird, points and flushes the pheasant. “BLAM!!” New owner has a bird in the bag. And a dog in the truck. Yes our Ace ran back to the truck, jumped in and won’t come out. Gun shy, what means gun shy? This is foreign term not heard by Don growing up in Detroit. So, Ace comes back to us. There are no hard feelings. This was part of the deal from the beginning, and around here hindsight is 50:50 so we are still feeling preeeetty spinortsie.
Deuce is older and more experienced, so no problem there, one would think. On day 2 with new master, Deuce finds a bird. His form is impeccable. “BLAM-BLAM!!” and another bird in the bag. But Deuce takes off running down the road. Seven miles later he is found still moving at constant speed with the determination of a marathon runner, not panting and glowing with a confidence that he could keep this up all day.
After 15 years in the country we are still learning new stuff, this being our latest education at the University of Horse Sense. But as they say, when life gives you lemons, you just pucker up and start sucking. The easy way out would be to find a nice family that would like a companion or watch dog and can spend the time to train and scratch these fine canine friends. But no one who knows Sheila and Don would ever expect the easy way. Nay, it often seems they go well out of their way to find the most difficult, tortuous, grueling, challenge possible. And in the spirit of the new President Obama administration, we recognize we are all in this together. Besides, why hoard all the fun when we have already hoarded all the pets?
We are open to all ideas. Difficulty is a factor (more is good). Here are some obvious solutions to get the project rolling: dog ear plugs, silencers for shotguns, slingshot or bow-and-arrow pheasant hunting? We are assuming of course that the problem is noise and not the poor aim of the hunter. I recall a TV show where in the good ol’ days of jolly ol’ England the estate servants were used to flush birds for the royalty and on one occasion a gentleman proclaims: “Dear me, I seem to have peppered your man”. In this case possible solutions include a line of Kevlar ®* bullet proof dog pants or maybe a little target practice?
But the real home run, we believe, is a new sport we call pheasant netting. The goal is to catch the bird in flight with a net when flushed by the hunting hound. Points are given for the usual size and weight parameters of the bird but in addition, hunter form is included into the score, for example, a double salchow, lutz, axel net catch. If we get on this, devise the proper marketing campaign and secure a corporate sponsor -- dare I say it? -- the 2012 Summer Olympics in jolly ol’ London town? Oh yeah. We are counting on you, and remember, we’re all in this together.
Oh, and last but not least, would anyone out there care for a nice new friend?
*Kevlar® is registered trademark the of E. I. du Pont de Nemours and Company or its affiliates.
Disclaimer: The characters, persons, places or things in the story are purely fictitious, any resemblance to people, places, or things alive, dead or whatever is purely coincidental. For entertainment purposes only, use at your own risk.
distimpson&m.hooper
Our episode begins with Sheila receiving word that some guy has lost his hunting dog, an English pointer, a breed commonly used for hunting pheasants. Recently Sheila has been working 6 days a week as a substitute mail carrier for Greensburg and drives about 1000 miles a week on the country roads of Kiowa County. Hence, she sees a lot of rural life every day.
She’s out delivering the mail one recent day and suddenly, hey look, there’s a hunting dog running down the road that matches the description: an English pointer, white with brown patches, pretty skinny, looks like it has been lost for a while, no collar. Sheila puts him in the car and calls him Ace. A short time passes and, holy cats (wait, forget the cats, that’s another story), she sees another hunting dog running down the road that also matches the description of the missing English pointer. Insert déjà vu here. This dog is skinnier than Ace, has a collar but no tags. Sheila picks ‘im up and calls him Deuce.
Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Sheila and new friends come home to husband Don, a well known sucker for a hard-luck story. We survey our new boarders and see they need food, water, worming -- everybody needs a good worming -- and that we have to get some weight on these critters. But the first order of business is to call the fellow who lost his dog. It has to be one of these, right? “Oh, thank you,” he says, “I found my dog and I’m already home in Iowa.”
Well, ahhh, we would want to keep them long enough to get some weight on them and be sure they are healthy. After all, it is Christmas and wasn’t there a mutual attraction between baby Jesus and the critters in the manger? I always thought so, and thought that the animals could speak at midnight on Christmas Eve. I’ve since learned they speak all the time. You just have to listen. Anyway, we called the sheriff, humane society, placed an ad in the newspaper and hoped for the best.
By now we’ve had our fill of déjà vu. Ten dogs is over our limit. After all, we have eight and our new friends make it ten. We’re in danger of becoming like people you hear about on the news, except that our non-human friends are neutered or spayed. Maybe we’re hoarders but not breeders. I know what causes this in me, a deep seated psychological issue hammered into my psyche during youth (no, not the Helsinki syndrome) but who the hell cares as we still have 10 dogs.
Ace is a friendly sort and his presence becomes known in the neighborhood. Soon there is a glimmer of hope. People are interested in these two fine fellows and several folks have expressed interest in “the huntin’ dogs”. Great, off Ace and Deuce go to find their fortunes with some real nice folks. On his first day with his new master, Duece goes out in the field, displays his knowledge of bird searching and shows excellent serpentine form. No birds but so far so good. Now the story of Ace. He’s out with his new human and is displaying excellent form in the field. He finds a bird, points and flushes the pheasant. “BLAM!!” New owner has a bird in the bag. And a dog in the truck. Yes our Ace ran back to the truck, jumped in and won’t come out. Gun shy, what means gun shy? This is foreign term not heard by Don growing up in Detroit. So, Ace comes back to us. There are no hard feelings. This was part of the deal from the beginning, and around here hindsight is 50:50 so we are still feeling preeeetty spinortsie.
Deuce is older and more experienced, so no problem there, one would think. On day 2 with new master, Deuce finds a bird. His form is impeccable. “BLAM-BLAM!!” and another bird in the bag. But Deuce takes off running down the road. Seven miles later he is found still moving at constant speed with the determination of a marathon runner, not panting and glowing with a confidence that he could keep this up all day.
After 15 years in the country we are still learning new stuff, this being our latest education at the University of Horse Sense. But as they say, when life gives you lemons, you just pucker up and start sucking. The easy way out would be to find a nice family that would like a companion or watch dog and can spend the time to train and scratch these fine canine friends. But no one who knows Sheila and Don would ever expect the easy way. Nay, it often seems they go well out of their way to find the most difficult, tortuous, grueling, challenge possible. And in the spirit of the new President Obama administration, we recognize we are all in this together. Besides, why hoard all the fun when we have already hoarded all the pets?
We are open to all ideas. Difficulty is a factor (more is good). Here are some obvious solutions to get the project rolling: dog ear plugs, silencers for shotguns, slingshot or bow-and-arrow pheasant hunting? We are assuming of course that the problem is noise and not the poor aim of the hunter. I recall a TV show where in the good ol’ days of jolly ol’ England the estate servants were used to flush birds for the royalty and on one occasion a gentleman proclaims: “Dear me, I seem to have peppered your man”. In this case possible solutions include a line of Kevlar ®* bullet proof dog pants or maybe a little target practice?
But the real home run, we believe, is a new sport we call pheasant netting. The goal is to catch the bird in flight with a net when flushed by the hunting hound. Points are given for the usual size and weight parameters of the bird but in addition, hunter form is included into the score, for example, a double salchow, lutz, axel net catch. If we get on this, devise the proper marketing campaign and secure a corporate sponsor -- dare I say it? -- the 2012 Summer Olympics in jolly ol’ London town? Oh yeah. We are counting on you, and remember, we’re all in this together.
Oh, and last but not least, would anyone out there care for a nice new friend?
*Kevlar® is registered trademark the of E. I. du Pont de Nemours and Company or its affiliates.
Disclaimer: The characters, persons, places or things in the story are purely fictitious, any resemblance to people, places, or things alive, dead or whatever is purely coincidental. For entertainment purposes only, use at your own risk.
distimpson&m.hooper
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