cannycanine.com

Dear Santa Paws,

I have been a good dog.  Considering I have to live with a terrier, I have been exceptional.  I only want to bite him about once a day, but I usually refrain from doing that.  I probably couldn’t catch him to bite him anyway.  The cold and snow in southwest Iowa is helping me grow my hair back after the six month eczema ordeal.  Soon I will be a furry monster again.  I may need a new gorilla this year, my old one has the hair loved off of him.  A new food bowl would be good, maybe one with legs that the cat can’t reach.  Never mind bringing the cat anything, she’s taken over all our stuff.  Merry Christmas and I’ll leave a cookie or two out for the reindeer.  I understand they love vanilla wafers.  Sincerely, your friend, Nemo

P.S.  Maybe I’ll eat a vanilla wafer too.

Ahoy Mates!  It looks like if our blog is going to get written, I’m going to have to step up into the pocket and throw the football.  On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, our Momma Dog found two blisters on the side of her hands, by the next day, poison ivy was breaking out.  She had it on both hands, her eye, her nose, both legs and under her fingernails.  She went on a prednisone pack for seven days.  When she finished the prednisone, she got a stiff neck, pain behind her ears, sore throat and the poison ivy came back full force.  Yesterday she went to visit her doctor, who said it would take massive amounts of steroids to kill it  So now she is on both prednisone and cephalexin.  The worst thing has been she has been unable to touch anything with her fingers because each one of them feels like they have been burned.  We have been taking care of her the best we can.  Sleeping next to her and licking her hands.   It’s unusual to have poison ivy so late in the year and now we have three inches of snow on the ground, but she either got into it picking up logs for the fireplace or it was on my fur after I chased that last turkey into the woods.  Momma Dog thinks the latter would explain how it got under her fingernails.  I’d better go roll in the snow again.  Until next time,  Huck “Tebow” Terrier

The sun was shining just at the right angle this morning as we passed one of the oak trees along the path out behind the barn.  The trunk has a huge green patch.  I’m going to have to investigate what it is, I’ve never seen it before.  Two dogs and three cats went up the back hill with me, cats not allowing anyone in front of them.  The temperature is dropping, we’re down to 32 right now.  Gun shots all around, I think it’s turkey season.  The farmers down below us are cleaning their cattle shed and depositing all the waste on the field between us.  In older days, this meant the dogs would be sneaking down there to roll, but they are getting older now and don’t go looking for trouble.

(Ha! I’m planning on going down there just as soon as the tractors leave.  Huck)

“Huck I think my big, fluffy feet are one of my best features.”

“Yep, they’re big alright.  Following you into the house is like following the leaf sweeper.”

“Amber says she thinks I’m a purebred cocker spaniel and after doing some research, I think she’s right.”

“Well yes, that would explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“The howling, the moodiness, the dependency on Momma Dog.  Not to mention jumping stiff legged at every new thing you see.  Cocker are notorious for being mental.”

“I’m going to jump stiff legged at you next.”

“Hey Nemo, I’ve got a parable about the predator/prey dilemma.  Listen to this:

Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up.  It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed.  Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up.  It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve.  It doesn’t matter whether you’re a lion or a gazelle – - when the sun comes up, you’d better be running.”

“Wow!  Who said that?”

“It says source unknown.”

“I want to be the lion.”

“Me too.”

“Huck, did you notice how lean the coyote leader is? 

“Animals in the wild are usually around 20% underweight Nemo.”

“I must look like a pork belly to him.  Did you ever wonder why we have a good home and get fed every night, and animals like coyotes never know when they will eat?”

“Our kind sold out Nemo.  We traded our freedom for a warm fire and dinner.  We don’t get to run as a pack and howl at the moon.”

“I still howl sometimes, when I’m happy or lonely.”

“I think I’ll help out by throwing a biscuit over the bank once in awhile.”

“Yes sir, we will sir, and thank you for the cookie.”

“You did good Nemo and you even ate the mouse muffin.”

“Mouse muffin?  I thought that was a chocolate chip cookie.”

“What did the head coyote want?”

“He wants us to use our blog to tell people that predators need space to live too.  Nature cannot function without them.  Also that the main staple in the coyote diet is mice.  In some states it’s open season on coyotes all year.”

“Blimey!  It’s late, good thing the moon’s almost full.  Do you think we’re in trouble at home?”

“Nope, Momma Dog likes coyotes.  She subscribes to The Daily Coyote blog and has followed Charlie Coyote since he was a pup.”

“Great dog Huck, how much farther is it?” (Pant pant)

“Just up the next ridge.”

“You forget I’m carrying the gift bag of chewbones in my pack and I’m full from dinner.  (pant, pant)  I cannot eat even a little piece of deer gut, maybe I could just chew on the end of an antler.  How do I greet the coyote leader?”

“Well, I say hullo mate, but you’d better say Good Evening Sir.  You always talk to the head coyote first or he might go for your throat,  and you never make eye contact.”

“My throat!  OMG!  I like my white throat, it looks nice with my neckerchief.  Just a minute Huck, stop right there.  Let’s think this thing through.”

“Yip, yip, yip!”

“Too late.  The sentry’s spotted us.  Chin up Nemo.”

“Chin up!  What do you mean by that?”

“Whoo Hoo!  I’m glad Momma Dog’s home from Las Vegas.  I thought we were both going to starve to death.”

“Not me Nemo.  I had my stash under Momma Dog’s chair.  I could have gone another week.”

“Did the coyotes really invite me to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yep.  They’ve never seen any dog as round as you are.”

“What are they having?”

“Hunter’s stew.  Deer guts and greens.”

“OMG!  I’m not eating deer guts.  Tell them I’m Vegan, tell them I’m at the vets,  I’d rather remove one of my claws with my eyetooth than eat a raw deer gut.”

“You have to go or the head coyote will be offended.”

“Aaaarrrrhhhh!”

“What’s everybody looking at me for?  I had nothing to do with it!”

“Momma Dog finds a dead raccoon under our back deck and you don’t know anything about it Huck the Hunter?”

“Maybe a car hit him and he came home to die, you know like in that poem by Robert Frost, “Death of a Hired Hand”.  Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.

“How long do you think he’s been dead?”

“At least a day, he’s stiff as a carp and weighs more than I do.”