Too funny Imbus. And how is Mr. Man today? Hope is nice and fat!
Ya know, I had this German Shorthair Pointer that yes, did come out of VPW's stock of Shorthairs. I named him Mr. Starbuck after a character in the book Moby Dick. I had never heard of the coffee until after I named my dog. His official name was Mr. Starbuck Von Der Weg.
At any rate, he was a best pal, a good bird hunter, ferocious when he needed to be, and an all around buddy old pal. His "Indian name" was "Dances with Coyotes". And there is a story that goes with it.
One frosty cold day, when I had him out running on my wifes' uncles' ranch in Oklahoma, he got way away from me out in the sagebrush and seemed to be on the trail of something. It had snowed, and his dark liver color stood out very well against the snow dusted sagebrush and snow covered ground. And then all of a sudden, a coyote popped up in front of him and the chase was on. I thought it was pretty neat until I remembered that sometimes coyotes will do that with a domestic dog and lead him into an ambush and the coyote pack then kills and eats the pursuing dog.
By the time I realized this, he and the coyote were so far away that they were just small specks about a two or three hundred yards away. Fortunately I had my binoculars that "brought them in" much closer. But they were still running in the opposite direction of me.So I yelled and yelled, but there was no turning him back. He had never seen a coyote before, and he must have been fascinated to be on the trail of one of his wild "cousins". So, I just watched him through the binoculars and prayed to God the "begging prayer" that he wouldn't get eaten up. Old Starbuck could have killed one coyote and maybe fought off two, but certainly not a whole pack.
So as he chased old Wily Coyotee through the sagebushes, they headed for a small mesa (a table top kind of a hill) that was maybe only fifty feet high or so. I watched as the coyote, keeping an equal distance ahead of Starbuck, sprinted up the side of the hill with my guy in hot pursuit, about thirty feet behind. When the coyote crested the hill, he turned and stopped and waited for Starbuck to make it over the top. I could see the coyote's cold breath as he panted and waited. And that's when I knew that the ambush was really going to happen. As soon as Starbuck got to the top and ran up to the waiting coyote, about nine other coyotes seemed to appear out of nowhere and surround my now bewildered dog. I could see the hair stand up on his back, and instantly, a knot formed in my stomach. My buddy, my best friend! Oh man, I was freaking out because I was pretty sure that I was about to witness my pal being torn to shreds before my eyes! But I prayed the begging prayer again and said; "Oh please please God! Don't let 'em eat him! Please please please!" As I stared in horrified fascination.
And then the wildest thing happened. The coyotes began to yip and put their paws together on the ground with their heads low like they wanted to play, and were wagging their tails! At first I thought, what is this? A sadistice ruse? They already had him! Why pretend to be nice before the massacre? But no...
Right then, they began popping up in the air like popcorn all around Starbuck and yipping to beat the band! And he went up to one of them and sniffed his butt, and then he began to jump up and down with them and they all took turns sniffing butts and doing their wild yipping and his domestic barking and they just plain had a wild rumpus together out there on top of that mesa! And I was standing there looking through the field glasses whispering; "Well I'll be damned. Wouldja look at that! Why thank you God! Thank you! Wow..."
And after about a minute of that, as quickly as they had arrived, all of the coyotes disappeared into the sage brush, and Mr. Starbuck turned and began an easy lope down the hill and across the prairie towards me. When he got to me he was wagging his stump of a tail as if to say; "See boss? I was just spending a little time with my wild cousins! Nothing to worry about!" As I pounded him joyously on the side and patted his head and told him how really fortunate he had been!
Man I was so blessed, because I know that God answered my prayer that day and saved my dog! So I looked at him and said; "From this day forward, your Indian name shall be "Dances With Coyotes!"
I cried buckets of tears the day he passed away back in 2000, and I have tears in my eyes again right now. He was a good friend and I'll never forget him..
Thanks Kit for the direction to Pet affection. I never wonder to that part of the web because I can't contribute. It's locked so I just by pass it all together.
Good story JL. God is good to all things. Thanks for sharing.
imbus, the archives are like the dusty "stacks" of the library, filled with wonderful things that others have contributed.
Linda Z was the first to suggest organizing the threads into an order (back on WayDale when we didn't know that there would be no "history" to be maintained).
I just thought you would enjoy what others had shared previously.
I love pet stories and am also seeing how many consecutive threads I can be the last contributor to. I am hoping it will get me over my crabbiness from having this nasty cold/flu thing.
This is a regular Lassie kind of story:
My mom sent my brother and I out to read the gas meter for the farm. In those days, the gas company trusted you to read your own gas meter, send in the numbers and get billed.
I was about 6 years old and brother Frank was about 7. The gas meter was located inside of a rickety fence inside of the pen where the very mean boar pig (for non farm folk, that is an unneutered male hog used for breeding purposes) lived. My brother Frank felt inspired to go into the shed where the very large pig was sleeping to wake him up and say hello. I crawled over the rickety fence to start writing down the gas meter numbers. A few seconds later, I saw brother Frank come tearing out of the shed with Julius the boar pig in hot pursuit. Frank jumped over the rickety gas meter fence for temporary safety. We both knew that it was only a matter of minutes before Julius would be able to tear through the fence and begin to eat one or both of us.
Out of the blue a stray dog (who we'd named Louie and had hoped would stay around since we fed him and played with him) who had showed up at the farm a few days earlier came running towards the pig pen. He jumped the first pen and started biting at the boar's nether regions. Julius proceded to chase Louie in the direction of the farther fence affording brother and I the opportunity to run towards the closer fence. Needless to say, we both made it as did Louie. (That brother grew up to be a lawyer and a large scale hog producer. He was not at all traumatized by the event).
Oddly enough, we had a big dust storm a couple of weeks later. This was the mid '60s and Interstate 90 was under construction in the rural counties of Southern Minnesota. Because they cleared so much area to construct the road and took so long to pave it, we had horrible dust storms that year. We had driven to one of the other farms a couple of miles away from the home farm to prep for spring planting. In those days all of us kids no matter what our age had jobs to prepare for spring planting. Louie followed us to the other farm, running behind the car.
We worked for several hours and then a dust storm started. We quickly packed all of the kids into the car to head home before it was too late and we'd have to hole up in a shed to wait out the storm. Those storms were so black and thick you couldn't see your hand in front of your face and driving was impossible.
Mom wouldn't let us take Louie in the car with us and said he would make it home in time if he ran behind the car. We barely made it home before everything went black and we never saw Louie again.
Louie saved my life - and brother Frank's.
I was mad at Mom for a long time for not letting us bring Louie in the car. Could never tell her so because that would have been back talk.
I never knew what happened to Louie, but did pray for him that he found a good home somewhere else during the storm. I searched the road ditches for weeks and never found him so I believe it's true.
Maybe Louie was some kind of angel or just a good dog in the right place at the right time.
Maybe that is why I am so hard headed about my love for dogs and rescuing them, saving their lives to love and be loved by humans who deserve them.
As an aside that pertains to the rabbit thread:
If Julius had injured me, I wouldn't have blamed him, I would have blamed my brother Frank. He had been trained to respect boars as very unpredictable animals that should not be surprised. Julius was just an animal following the instincts God gave him. Brother Frank was being careless.
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Kit Sober
imbus, there are also quite a few nice pet stories over in the "Pet Affection" archives.
(Greasespot Cafe allows pets in the establishment, I think.)
Hopefully,
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J0nny Ling0
Too funny Imbus. And how is Mr. Man today? Hope is nice and fat!
Ya know, I had this German Shorthair Pointer that yes, did come out of VPW's stock of Shorthairs. I named him Mr. Starbuck after a character in the book Moby Dick. I had never heard of the coffee until after I named my dog. His official name was Mr. Starbuck Von Der Weg.
At any rate, he was a best pal, a good bird hunter, ferocious when he needed to be, and an all around buddy old pal. His "Indian name" was "Dances with Coyotes". And there is a story that goes with it.
One frosty cold day, when I had him out running on my wifes' uncles' ranch in Oklahoma, he got way away from me out in the sagebrush and seemed to be on the trail of something. It had snowed, and his dark liver color stood out very well against the snow dusted sagebrush and snow covered ground. And then all of a sudden, a coyote popped up in front of him and the chase was on. I thought it was pretty neat until I remembered that sometimes coyotes will do that with a domestic dog and lead him into an ambush and the coyote pack then kills and eats the pursuing dog.
By the time I realized this, he and the coyote were so far away that they were just small specks about a two or three hundred yards away. Fortunately I had my binoculars that "brought them in" much closer. But they were still running in the opposite direction of me.So I yelled and yelled, but there was no turning him back. He had never seen a coyote before, and he must have been fascinated to be on the trail of one of his wild "cousins". So, I just watched him through the binoculars and prayed to God the "begging prayer" that he wouldn't get eaten up. Old Starbuck could have killed one coyote and maybe fought off two, but certainly not a whole pack.
So as he chased old Wily Coyotee through the sagebushes, they headed for a small mesa (a table top kind of a hill) that was maybe only fifty feet high or so. I watched as the coyote, keeping an equal distance ahead of Starbuck, sprinted up the side of the hill with my guy in hot pursuit, about thirty feet behind. When the coyote crested the hill, he turned and stopped and waited for Starbuck to make it over the top. I could see the coyote's cold breath as he panted and waited. And that's when I knew that the ambush was really going to happen. As soon as Starbuck got to the top and ran up to the waiting coyote, about nine other coyotes seemed to appear out of nowhere and surround my now bewildered dog. I could see the hair stand up on his back, and instantly, a knot formed in my stomach. My buddy, my best friend! Oh man, I was freaking out because I was pretty sure that I was about to witness my pal being torn to shreds before my eyes! But I prayed the begging prayer again and said; "Oh please please God! Don't let 'em eat him! Please please please!" As I stared in horrified fascination.
And then the wildest thing happened. The coyotes began to yip and put their paws together on the ground with their heads low like they wanted to play, and were wagging their tails! At first I thought, what is this? A sadistice ruse? They already had him! Why pretend to be nice before the massacre? But no...
Right then, they began popping up in the air like popcorn all around Starbuck and yipping to beat the band! And he went up to one of them and sniffed his butt, and then he began to jump up and down with them and they all took turns sniffing butts and doing their wild yipping and his domestic barking and they just plain had a wild rumpus together out there on top of that mesa! And I was standing there looking through the field glasses whispering; "Well I'll be damned. Wouldja look at that! Why thank you God! Thank you! Wow..."
And after about a minute of that, as quickly as they had arrived, all of the coyotes disappeared into the sage brush, and Mr. Starbuck turned and began an easy lope down the hill and across the prairie towards me. When he got to me he was wagging his stump of a tail as if to say; "See boss? I was just spending a little time with my wild cousins! Nothing to worry about!" As I pounded him joyously on the side and patted his head and told him how really fortunate he had been!
Man I was so blessed, because I know that God answered my prayer that day and saved my dog! So I looked at him and said; "From this day forward, your Indian name shall be "Dances With Coyotes!"
I cried buckets of tears the day he passed away back in 2000, and I have tears in my eyes again right now. He was a good friend and I'll never forget him..
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imbus
Thanks Kit for the direction to Pet affection. I never wonder to that part of the web because I can't contribute. It's locked so I just by pass it all together.
Good story JL. God is good to all things. Thanks for sharing.
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Kit Sober
imbus, the archives are like the dusty "stacks" of the library, filled with wonderful things that others have contributed.
Linda Z was the first to suggest organizing the threads into an order (back on WayDale when we didn't know that there would be no "history" to be maintained).
I just thought you would enjoy what others had shared previously.
Hopefully,
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Mary Cate
I love pet stories and am also seeing how many consecutive threads I can be the last contributor to. I am hoping it will get me over my crabbiness from having this nasty cold/flu thing.
This is a regular Lassie kind of story:
My mom sent my brother and I out to read the gas meter for the farm. In those days, the gas company trusted you to read your own gas meter, send in the numbers and get billed.
I was about 6 years old and brother Frank was about 7. The gas meter was located inside of a rickety fence inside of the pen where the very mean boar pig (for non farm folk, that is an unneutered male hog used for breeding purposes) lived. My brother Frank felt inspired to go into the shed where the very large pig was sleeping to wake him up and say hello. I crawled over the rickety fence to start writing down the gas meter numbers. A few seconds later, I saw brother Frank come tearing out of the shed with Julius the boar pig in hot pursuit. Frank jumped over the rickety gas meter fence for temporary safety. We both knew that it was only a matter of minutes before Julius would be able to tear through the fence and begin to eat one or both of us.
Out of the blue a stray dog (who we'd named Louie and had hoped would stay around since we fed him and played with him) who had showed up at the farm a few days earlier came running towards the pig pen. He jumped the first pen and started biting at the boar's nether regions. Julius proceded to chase Louie in the direction of the farther fence affording brother and I the opportunity to run towards the closer fence. Needless to say, we both made it as did Louie. (That brother grew up to be a lawyer and a large scale hog producer. He was not at all traumatized by the event).
Oddly enough, we had a big dust storm a couple of weeks later. This was the mid '60s and Interstate 90 was under construction in the rural counties of Southern Minnesota. Because they cleared so much area to construct the road and took so long to pave it, we had horrible dust storms that year. We had driven to one of the other farms a couple of miles away from the home farm to prep for spring planting. In those days all of us kids no matter what our age had jobs to prepare for spring planting. Louie followed us to the other farm, running behind the car.
We worked for several hours and then a dust storm started. We quickly packed all of the kids into the car to head home before it was too late and we'd have to hole up in a shed to wait out the storm. Those storms were so black and thick you couldn't see your hand in front of your face and driving was impossible.
Mom wouldn't let us take Louie in the car with us and said he would make it home in time if he ran behind the car. We barely made it home before everything went black and we never saw Louie again.
Louie saved my life - and brother Frank's.
I was mad at Mom for a long time for not letting us bring Louie in the car. Could never tell her so because that would have been back talk.
I never knew what happened to Louie, but did pray for him that he found a good home somewhere else during the storm. I searched the road ditches for weeks and never found him so I believe it's true.
Maybe Louie was some kind of angel or just a good dog in the right place at the right time.
Maybe that is why I am so hard headed about my love for dogs and rescuing them, saving their lives to love and be loved by humans who deserve them.
As an aside that pertains to the rabbit thread:
If Julius had injured me, I wouldn't have blamed him, I would have blamed my brother Frank. He had been trained to respect boars as very unpredictable animals that should not be surprised. Julius was just an animal following the instincts God gave him. Brother Frank was being careless.
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Mary Cate
The above is a true story, but the following "moral" just came to mind:
It is best to let sleeping hogs lie.
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