EllenEveBaz

She's already dressed for the win!

FWIW -- I don't know what time of day Doolin caught his rabbit, but most of Milo's catches have been at night and the early morning. (Rabbits evidently have to eat almost 24 hours a day to keep their digestive systems working.) One thing I did that seemed to reduce the numbers was set up several motion detector lights in the back yard, focused on the outside door and porch, on the theory that would give critters in the yard a visual alert that trouble was coming. Numbers did go down, but I don't know what other factors may have been. On another tack -- what do you call a bunch of rabbits hopping backwards? a receding hare line

Milo adds his high four: "Major score, dude! Congrats! Make that first shake decisive and you won't have the humans (who probably eat meat themselves, amiright?) blubbering as much. Rabbits are idjits and will keep on coming into your yard. It is your duty to keep houndie territory free of those lop-eared vermin. Let's see -- you've already gotten a squirrel, may I suggest your next critter be a groundhog (although those little chunkies can run surprisingly fast) or a chipmunk, if you prefer them small and agile. While I have caught several skunks, I do not recommend them for the beginner. " One of Milo's songs is my lyrics to the tune of "Popeye the Sailor Man." Feel free to adapt for Doolin. He's Milo, the wonder hound Leaps logs with a single bound He chases the wabbit, he catches, he gwabs it He's Milo, the wonder hound No matter how many times Milo catches something, even though I was raised in a hunting and fishing family, I still dread it.

It is indeed a wonderful story. Someone else posted it recently with the beautiful picture that accompanied it.

Yes, maybe she's thinking of how thousands of years that blankie would have been the pelt of a mastodon that she and her pack took down.

Rest in peace, old houndmobile. Or be recycled into new and exciting things. Years ago, Claudia from the Greyhound Gang in Utah wrote a wonderful essay about saying goodbye to the Gang's van and what a powerful symbol of hound life it was. It brought the dogs from their old racing life to their new life as pets. It gathered the pack to go places together; sometimes places of enjoyment and sometimes not. Unlike most hound trailers, it had windows so the sighthounds could see out. And sometimes it took them on that last trip to the vet.

Welcome! Do you have a hound yet?

6 feet is impressive! What are coyote rollers?

Mac, may your spirit run with the wind.

Fun fun fun! No need to apologize for Willa; she was using her outside voice perfectly appropriately.

Carol Becker Rizzo mentioned above custom made one for my girl's measurements and sent it out very quickly. It was a wonderful help. Best thoughts for your boy.

Gelsey enjoyed the last half of her raw sweet potato. Milo got a dental chew to keep it fair. Today, Gelsey was supervising me in the kitchen from her chair in the den, and noted one piece of shredded cheese (approx 1/2 inch x 5 ml) fall on the floor. She instantly transformed from Houndie at Leisure to the Vulture, kind of like Snoopy would get in the Peanuts comic strip. I moved away and said the magic "ok," and she leapt on it. It really surprised me that she saw the cheese fall -- it was so small. Her Blonde Bandit name has been changed to Red Fawn Felon, to make it more hound-color appropriate.

You could devise some sort of gauge for how much exploring fun there was by how high the snow is on the houndie face.

Crazy girl! (said in tones of great affection and admiration) Milo has figured out how to get out of his coat if it starts slipping. Somehow he gets it moved so it's hanging off the front of his neck, and then he steps on the coat and lowers his head till he gets it pulled off. Time to get new velcro for all those old coats, I guess. (Sorry, Jupiter)

Yay! All paws crossed here for the Daring Duo.

houndie castanets

Dog curls up next to human on sofa. Human pets dog. Dog immediately gets up, moves as far away as possible on sofa, facing away from human. This happens almost every day, with both dogs. I think it's given me some sort of complex.

French fries for everybody! That girl is so pretty she puts Dalmatians to shame.

Third agree! Greyhounds rule the world. Or should.

Don't you feel sorry for people whose homes are not decorated in real animal fur?

Almost 12 years ago, volunteers from a rescue program drove six hours to bring Milo for a home inspection and, we hoped, a final home. He had been dropped off as a skeletally thin stray at a kill shelter. Someone at the pound called this rescue program, knowing that one of the leaders had a hound of her own. "You'd better come and get this greyhound." She did. Then someone on GT posted his picture here. It was clear to discerning eyes that he wasn't full greyhound -- floppy ears and a round ribcage. Their guess was he had been someone's hunting dog. He had already bounced from his first home the program found for him. "Too expensive." I'm sure that was due to his fetish of chewing anything foam rubber or fiber. I will always remember my first sight of him -- jaunty step, ultra-curved tail, bright red brindle, eyes interested and alert. As a vet wrote in his records once Milo had recovered, "Beautiful dog." A DNA test showed 2/3 greyhound, 1/6 Tennessee treeing coonhound, and 1/6 whippet. That same test showed he has a ton of greyhound and mix cousins -- he must be a product of a large hunting dog breeding business. He's certainly done more than his share to reduce the number of wildlife who make it out of our back yard. And now he's 14 (probably older, but I picked New Year's Day as his birthday). I've never had a dog make it to 14 before. His face is all white now, and he carries both his head and his tail lower. He's got chronic lymphatic leukemia, a slow cancer, but he is doing great on the chemo. He's got good muscle mass on his rear legs and enjoys mile-long walks, just slower than before. He eats meals well with 5 fewer teeth, although will now accept room service for his good-night snack rather than coming in the kitchen. He goes out first thing in the morning, and comes racing back in the house, enjoying the new day. His step remains jaunty and purposeful. Part of the Dog Aging Project, he has aced every cognitive test they've set. Always congenial, he's now officially snuggly (although I think he's seeking an auxiliary heat source). He has developed a fear of some loud noises. I hope I'm not jinxing myself, but he hasn't made a documented wildlife kill in 15 months. I know he has missed going out on hours-long hunts with a pack of his besties, chasing coons and possums or wild hogs all night. But that didn't turn out so well for him. We've had our ups and downs together. He's outlived 3 other dogs here, and while he has annoyingly battled for pack position with all of them, he has missed them when they've had to leave. I can see his departure getting closer and closer. I hope he feels like he's had a good life. My Milo. MiloBiloDilo. Milo Milo, you are thrice of everything that's houndie nice. My my, Milo. Milo My Love.

Rue did bring her own floofy coat. But she does look extra cute as an overstuffed wonton.

Should I let Gelsey have the rest of her sweet potato? Will that just reward her bandit ways?

All this talk of banditry reminds me of Full House's Bandita, the beautiful white hound with black circles around her eyes. However, I think she was an exemplary model of canine behavior, with little of the banditry of her name.

We got a little dusting here in the Virginia foothills. "Dusting" is my personal limit of enjoyment.