Evil Little Dog ~ RIP

   Minutes ago. Peacefully. Seemingly painlessly. 

 

Here, in her home. Familiar surroundings. Family around her.

 

  I was talking to Pat, today. Said she was going. He said she must be fourteen years old. No complaints then.

 

   Spoke to him again, just now. Seems we're promised vicious rain, tomorrow. But, if we get a dry patch, he'll come and dig a hole.

 

  I'll pop her in the fridge. She won't mind that. Nor will I. Why would I?

 

  She was a Great little Dog. This place will sorely miss her.

Seiko; 'My' Pheasant .....

" Seiko " ls 'my' pheasant. I called him that because I found ye could set ye watch by him, when he'd come wandering down the track for his feed of the bird seed I put out there. 

  He's been turning up for, must be the best part of a year, now? He found himself a hen bird and brought her up here too. For months now though, he's been a dead regular fixture.

  He really winds Balzac up, for some reason! Just about anything can be out on that track, eating the seed. Balzac ignores them.

  I now get Collared Dove, Magpie, Gray Crow, Rook, Jackdaw ..... Balzac couldn't give a toss. But, the moment he spies Seiko? He's up at the gate, yelling a torrent of abuse at him!

  Funniest thing ever was a week or so ago. I'm stood here, watching Seiko stroll down the track. Taking his own sweet time. Balzac, meanwhile, has jumped up to sit on the inside window sill.

  Balzac's watching me, stood there sipping my tea. I'm watching Seiko, now pecking away at the seed bait. Lovely, sunny day. All is good. 

  Then, Balzac happened to turn his head and glance out the window. I've Never seen a Dog do something so funny in all my life!

  It's very hard to explain it, in words. But, to me, it was plain as day even from watching the back of Balzac's massive, empty head.

  One moment, he was an over grown puppy, sitting with his dad. Not a care in the world. Then, as he turned his gaze and saw Seiko? It was like a massive jolt hit him! Like a truck smacking into a wall at the speed of light.

  I could feel his eyes pop out of his head. Hear the vehemently spat " Cunt!!! " exploding from his clenched teeth! 

  Then, he was gone! A rush of wind as he flashed out the door, only to reappear smashing against the gate as he reared up and screamed his death threats and hatred at Seiko.

  I was Crippled with laughter! Balzac absolutely fucking Despises that one, solitary bird! God alone knows why!

  Evil Little Dog seems to take or leave Seiko. Guess it depends on how she's feeling? Once in a while, she'll chase him away. 

  Yet, yesterday, I watched her sitting, watching the doves eat. Right up close to them. She's venal. Balzac has a strong, true, pathological hatred of only Seiko.

  But, anyway; November 1st the the start of the cock pheasant season, here. It's quite the thing for the lads of the Gun Clubs to get out and try to bag a cock or two.

  I've been in the pub, in the evening, when wet and wind blown guys have come in, shaking their jackets and presenting their best bags. 

 The competition, locally, is to get the longest tail feather. That's probably based on a notion of taking out the oldest birds. Allowing vigorous, younger ones a place.

  What ever. I was born and raised around Field Sports. Couple of years back, I watched a pair of blokes wandering, behind a happy Black Lab, other side of the cut. 

  Glorious, sunny day. Three friends in good company. I envied them and wished them well. 

 I'd always hoped that my mate, Seiko, would be alright though. He obviously lives this side of the cut. On Pat's land. And, his cattle still being out? Pat wouldn't have Anybody firing near them!

   Friday though, I Did hear two shots. I'm so deaf, I can't tell even rough direction, let alone distance. But, I tried to tell myself to keep smiling.

   Just some lads, out for the traditional stroll. Seiko sticks close to here. Field of cattle, just down there. Near Seiko's spot. Pat would go fucking ballistic if anyone fired near them.

  Seiko didn't appear, for his feed, or to cause Balzac apoplexy that day though.

  I never saw him on Saturday, either. That was fucking disturbing! Come Sunday? I was, quite frankly, fucking miserable. No Seiko. And I was realising I'd probably heard the shots that killed him. 

  No amount of corvids made me smile since ~ despite my having plans for them. I'm quietly fucking gagging to get some of Them ringed! (As the rooster said, in the joke older than me: " Let them settle! ")

  So, yeah; Here I was, today. Monday. Sipping my tea and gazing out up the track.  Miserable as fuck about my mate, Seiko.

  Tell ye what? When that big ball of iridescent copper and black appeared in my vision, wandering down the track, to get his share of the free scoff? In Dis Fucking Scribable!!!  

Ticks

  Tis the season of the year .....

Evil Little Dog just came in and I saw something fucking horrible hanging off her throat. Wasn't sure What it was, at first, to be honest.

  Beat the Balzac back though and finally got a glimpse of it. Fucking great tick! Hanging out of her like a big, gross teardrop! Ughh!

  No worries though. I'm prepared for that shit. Reached for my " O' Tom Tick Twisters ". (Yes, literally Reached. I keep them right here, on my desk!)

  Hook. Spin. Had the disgusting thing out, cleanly, quicker than ye could say; " Balzac! Will You Fuck Off?! "

  Amazed, frankly, to see I've never mentioned these things here, before! Had them years.

Get Some In!!! 

  Ye can thank me later.

Evil Little Dog Found A Bone .....

  The other day this was. Nice, sunny day. Promise of Spring. Just before it turned into fucking Alaska ....!

  Anyway, yeah. I looked out there and saw Evil Little Dog, my Jack Russell, digging around with something by the fence line.

  " What ye got there, Evil Little Dog? Show me. "

  'Got a bone, Dad. I found it. Now I'm gonna gnaw this mother fucker like there's no tomorrow!'

  Well, I've got a look at that bone and wondered. Frankly. It wasn't ye standard bit of rib bone. Nor was it a leg bone. Sort of shit a person might throw to a Dog. And an Evil Little Dog find and steal.

  My grave yard Did cross my mind, to be honest. But, I bury my Dogs deep enough that nothing in its right mind would be digging that far, now, for old bones.

   I don't think Evil Little Dog would bother.  She vanishes, night and day. She's allowed to. Because she's too small to seriously bother a cow. And she's ~ obviously ~ too fucking small to fence in.

  Anyway, she had this bone. Up to her. But, I told her how I needed her indoors now. All of them in. I had shit to do. She could bring her bone and shit would have to sort itself out.

  I dropped her in here, with the others. I had work to do, other side of the door.  I'd hear, if hell broke out. Four Dogs? One bone? 

  Know what? I had to come in here, at some point. Grab something I needed out there. And Pesticle's showing me the bone she now has. Happily chewing and sucking on it. Not a care in the world.
Evil Little Dog's now in her box. Snugly snoozing.

  Maybe half an hour later, I'm back in here again. And there's le fucking Dinger. Mouthing a somewhat reduced bit of bone. Only, he drops it, down the back of the bed,

  Niggie Dog tries to help le Ding dig it out. But, that's not gonna happen. So, I reach under the pallet and fetch this spitty lump of bone out.

  " Here ye go, Dingo Dog. " I say. " I reckon ye've about had ye share of this. Let's let the Nigger have his share. "  And I gave the lump to Niggie. (Munch, munch, munch)

  See what I'm saying there? No claims of Dog Trainer. Let alone 'Dog fucking Whisperer'.  This lot really has fuck all to do with me. It's my Dogs.

  Left to themselves, look, my two ridiculously disparate bitches ~ an American Bulldog and a Jack Russell. And the Dingo Dog and Nigger. They've just sorted their shit out.


  How about I introduce them to the concept of " God " ? For fuck sake ..... See what happens then.

It's Rubbed The Lotion On It's Skin .....

  Now, it's Definitely getting the hose!!! 

  Uncommon to most of the self proclaimed " Hunters " and " Trappers " frequenting fora, I really feel no need to show the shit I trap and kill.

It needs to go? I make it go. No song and dance about it. Then, I sling the photo opportunity somewhere discreet and invisible.

  This way has pretty much always worked for me. Especially here, in the middle of nowhere.

Enter The Evil Little Dog!!!

  FFS! I've just put something somewhere discreet. Pesticle joined me and I did notice Evil Little Dog generally being there.

  No problem. Job done, I came back into the compound. Vaguely aware of one hell of a stink in the air. It was Really, Seriously fucking minging, in fact!

  Strange, that. Because I was well away from the spot where the mingers get the slingers.

How come this stench of something near to Skunk (No. Not the herbal kind) was following me this far?!

  That's when I looked down ..... Dis Gusting Evil Little Dog!!! What The FUCK Have You Done?!?    

  It gets the hose ....!

" Evil Little Dog " In Tragic Accident ....!

  I never thought she'd walk away from this one!

  How fucking Mental is that?!

  Actually, I was talking to Hugh, the other day, and he told me; He'd simply never known Anyone with Dogs names like mine have got! 
 

Hare On The Meadow ....!

  Un Fucking Believable! Not seen one in a couple of years here now!

Just thought I'd let the Dogs out into the compound, free their heads a bit. I look up the meadow and there's this fucking great lump! It's brown and it didn't 'belong' there!

Stared at it for all I was worth. Could have been anything. Got the bin's out and it's a hare! She's just sitting there, getting her furry body buffeted by the wind. Not a care in the world!

  Oh; And now she's gone. Might have sloped off while I wasn't looking. Or she may just be laying down.

What ever. She's Most welcome on 'my' land and I'll see that no one bothers her.

 Have to watch these bloody Dogs now. Or Niggy Niggy Ning Nang Noo will sure as eggs scent her and flush her.

That'll have the sharp eyed and faced Yellow Peril after her. And the Pesticle's sure to join in. What Evil Little Dog will contribute to this chaos, god alone knows!

I could do without it though.

" Evil Little Dog " .....

  Pat's brought my hay down, the other day. And, there we are; Standing around in the stable, having a swift chat. I've just turned my back on him, to take a piss. And that's the moment he cunningly chose to strike.

  With a practised air of the oh so casual, I heard him breezily enquire:  " I don't suppose ye'd be interested in a Dog, would ye ....? "  But, I'm too good. I caught the tension underlying his words. Now what ....?!

  " What Dog? " I asked. Turning to study him. Already accepting that I was probably about to do my usual in these situations. Swear under my breath. Shake my head. Swear more heartily and demand " The fucking thing " be delivered to my gate.

  Yeah. I'm a mug for Dogs. Very seldom do I go looking for one ~ why the hell would I?! But, Dog in dire straits ....?  Just call me Oscar;  I want to save them all!

  So, anyway, at this juncture, I might suggest ye reacquaint yeself with This One.   And, yeah. That's the one Pat now wanted to shift. 

  Can't argue with his reasoning. His cattle had been mysteriously aborting, in his pens. That's his sole livelihood, right there! Obviously, he pulled out all the stops.

  Vet's did all the tests imaginable. Came back that it was some pathogen passed to the cowz, in the faeces of cats or Dogs. And ~ ye'd better believe me ~ there are No damn cats getting round Pat's place!

 Just his shitty, Evil Little Dog. Damn thing made a habit of wandering fifty yards, on its tiny little legs, just to shit near those cattle.  Dog had to go. Obviously.  So, of course, I said I'd take him.

  Not much happens at once, here, of course. So, we agreed I'd take Evil Little Dog.

 (God knows how I came to start calling him that! Just always have done. Response to his hilarious habit of coming sliding out of his 'car port' shelter, where his little house lived.

  Only, he'd literally drag himself out. Front legs walking. Back legs splayed out and limp. Dragging. All the time, shooting me crafty, coy little sideways glances. Mad fucking thing! LOL!)

  So, I was mentally chewing it over when I was giving Pat a hand to clear a ditch, days later. I had an inspiration then; Why didn't I knock up a proper chain rig?   Evil Little Dog could stay in his car port. Drag his body around in greeting. Just not shit near those cows!

  Pat said his kids, and " The Woman " (FFS! He must have been married to the lovely girl for forty years now. And still he refers to her as The Woman! LMFAO!) they wouldn't stand for it.

  So, I told him; Damn thing's not house broken. I'm not about to wake up and find it shitting all over my bed! Where the hell did he think I was gonna keep it?! Evil, shitty arsed little Dog. In fact; I suggested he ask his kids, and 'The Woman', to come up with a better idea.

  Well, today, over a week since Pat slid the question across in my stables, I was up his place on some errand.  I asked him about his plans. He was non-committal. Then, he finally said that Evil Little Dog would be going somewhere. And, he mentioned the local Dog Rescue ....!!!

  That was fucking It! (I never did get to tell ye about " Rag ", did I?) Well; That place is one of these " No Kill Shelters " that simply spirits Dogs out the back door, into The Van.

  It's common knowledge, locally, that the " Animal Welfare " emblazoned van is, weekly, ferrying 'rescued' Dogs to a 'No Qualms' Death House, over the way. There they summarily execute them.

  Need I say more? Evil Little Dog is curled up, a few feet away. In the terrier box I have at hand. Nice, snug bed. 74F in this room. Had a good feed of fresh, raw flesh. The others find Evil little Dogs diminutive size, coupled with feisty, snarly, snapping jaws, quite amusing!

  Poor little mite's mortified to be suddenly plunged into this world of giants. My lot are good natured though and used to little, tiny terriers. They'll soon accept eachother. Just a few days of gentle handling ahead now.

  Oh, and speaking of handling? Tonight, while out for their mid evening break, I idly wondered if Evil Little Dog still had his nuts on. So, absent mindedly, in the half light, I reached down and cupped his .......... Belly full of tiny nipples?!? :o

  The name'll stay though. " Evil Little Bitch " just doesn't sound the same!