A word about today's earthquake

There was an earthquake today on the east coast, 5.8 or 5.9 depending on where you look.  I didn't feel it, tho apparently plenty of people in the area did.   However we now realize that about the time it hit, Pickles the Dog went totally bee-zerk.    Can't be sure that the two events were related, but its possible.

On the Behavior of Dogs.......

When we emerged for our daily dog walk, sometime before 9 AM this morning, we were greeted by overcast skies and a temperature of about 75 degrees.  However, it was not the 75 degrees of late autumn, or, around here, of early winter.  It was not a 75 degrees with clear, crisp skies, with a slight breeze that might add just a touch of a refreshing bite.  This was 75 degrees with thick, heavy, humid air, much closer to today's low temperature than what will be today's high.  I knew sweat would be rolling off me before we had travelled very far.

Today is also trash day.  Pickles loves trash day, as long as we dont meet any big, loud trucks.  On the walk, once we got off our property, she fell right into walking mode.  I have her on a leash, but it hangs loose, and she walks along side of me with her head about at my knee.  I was looking around, not really paying attention when I felt a tug on the leash.  Pickles had stopped.  Not only had she stopped but she was rubbing her shoulder and then her whole side into the pavement, in the remnants of some liquefied detritus from a garbage truck.  It was only then that I noticed the smell - aided by the heaviness of the air it was overpowering to me.  But to Pickles the Dog, it was heaven on earth.  A sweet ambrosia.  Eau de Garbazhe.  I paid more attention as the walk continued.

As we approached the railroad tracks across Praley, I heard a dog bark.  That's not unusual, there is a dog up on the corner of St. Germain who frequently barks, but this bark was coming from a slightly different direction - in the same general direction I was planning to walk.  I always pay attention when I think their may be strange dogs about.

Pickles' behavior on a leash is different from her behavior off a leash.  On the leash, we walk past barking dogs (either behind a fence or chained up) and she pays them no mind.  She might look at them, but she doesnt bark at them or go crazy or try to get to them.  She just trots nicely along, giving anyone who notices a misguided impression that she's a good dog.  If we meet another dog walker, and they're on the other side of the road, same thing.  The other dog might be going crazy, but Pickles doesnt even seem to notice.  If a dog is loose and approaches, Pickles wants to play, but she's not too pushy about it. 

Off the leash, it's another story.  We don't routinely let her run loose, but she keeps a good look out in the house.  If another dog, cat or person comes on our property, she goes ballistic.  She can also get very excited if she's riding and we see another dog.  Once when she was a puppy, she jumped out of the window of our truck, while it was moving (slowly, thank heavens) past a neighbor's dog.  They stood there face to face about a foot a part and barked at each other.

So, why is she so docile on a leash, and so excitable when she's not on a leash?  I've had this long standing "dog behind a fence" theory of behavior, which I also apply to humans. My theory is a dog tends to be more aggressive when there is no possibility of physically confronting the object of the aggression.  Or conversely, when there is no possibility of the object of the aggression physically confronting the dog.  Substitute human for dog, for a more general application of the theory.  I don't know if this is true or not, I've done no studies, no dogs have filled out questionnaires.  And obviously this would not apply to dogs who may be sociopaths or psychotic, just your normal goofy tail wagging bone chewing dog.  But I think it's true.

Pickles the Dog Vents

It's hot these days, and even tho the dog and I take our walk in the morning (2 miles, give or take), the heat and the humidity are quite evident.  

We have several routes we can take, but I've found that on most occasions I'm following the path with the most shady spots.  When we pass from sun to shade the change in temperature is quite noticeable, at least to me.  Of course humans perspire differently than dogs, so I don't know if Pickles notices it as much.  But I sure do.  I do know that if given a choice of laying down in the sun or the shade, she'll pick the shade every time.  Me too, for that matter.

No matter what, when we get back from these walks, sweat is literally dripping off me, and the dog is involved in some very heavy panting.  We've both developed an after dog walk routine - I stand under a ceiling fan and luxuriate in the cool air blowing down on my sweat covered self.  Pickles plants herself right over top of an air conditioning vent.  She does that so much now that we say she's venting.

After a couple of minutes we both go somewhere else. 

Just thinking about Snowchief

I was just thinking about Snowchief the cat.  This is a picture of him in better times, 2 or 3 years ago.  He died last year, I think he was 18 years old.

This was a typical scene, especially in his later years.  He made an art form out of being comfortable, of finding he warmest spot in the house, especially on cold days. 

I miss having a cat or two about the place.  It's almost like having a wild animal in the house, and they keep mice and bugs honest.

Now we have Pickles, a very "interesting" dog, but we're hesitant to bring in another cat (or two) into the house.  Pickles is a tracker of small animals.  She is a real threat to the day-dreaming squirrel, the rabbit who decides to take five and kick back with one of Fidel's finest, the half feral cat so intent on stalking its prey it doesn't realize a goofy ticked-up mutt is literally sneaking up on it.  The only thing Pickles has ever actually caught was a dead rat, which she happily brought and laid at our doorstep.  Very cat-like.  I suppose she was saying thanks for the room and board.

Snowchief would have never given up the rat, seeing no need to thank us for the room and board.

I've never seen a rat or a mouse around the house, so who knows, maybe Pickles is better at this than we realize.

Snowchief the Cat could handle Pickles the Dog.  Pickles was not Snowchief's first experience with dogs - he lived a solid 10 years with a Black Lab, who he got along very well with.   Pickles was a puppy, and was very much an aggravation to the cat, but Snowchief almost always held his ground.   I'm pretty sure Pickles just wanted to play, but had no clue she couldn't play with a cat the same way she played with other dogs.  Maybe.  I really don't know what Pickles thinks.

Anyway, Snowchief was around for a lot of years.  He was a good cat, and I was just thinking about him.

Driving Miss Pickles

This is Pickles the Dog in the front seat of our old truck, keeping a careful eye on my maneuverings.  I took this picture a few days ago, back when the sun was shining.

I bought this truck in November 1994, so this is its 16 year anniversary.  I'm not sure if it has achieved clunker status yet, but it does have a large dent on side, caused some years back by a disagreement in a parking lot apparently.  I never got it fixed, having moved beyond putting a lot money into this particular mode of conveyance.  It is in semi-retired status, rarely being driven further than Morganton, and most times not even that far.

Pickles usually rides with her head out the window, ears flying back, big smile, happy as can be.  But sometimes she sits like this, just watching were we're going, as if she could give directions or advice.  

She's very routine oriented.  We make the trip to the post office everyday, for example, and she'll give me a look if I take a different route back.  Never fails.  She also doesn't like it if I go too fast - apparently it makes her sneeze.  All in all, she seems to like going on rides.

Things we did today

The highlight of the day without a doubt was the flu shot.  We went to a Walgreens drugstore in Hudson, right on Rt 321, and we took the scenic route up thru Rhodhiss road.  We got to take all kinds of strange turns in the Alfred Hitchcock like small town of Granite Falls along the way. 

The pharmacy was actually quite busy - not because there were so many people waiting for service, but because there were so few pharmacists.  I wonder about that, people dealing with medicine who are obviously professional, but at the same time VERY busy, quite overwhelmed. 

At any rate, we managed to get a flu shot & it was even covered by our insurance. This year's shot included the "pig flu" shot that was so scarce last year (and which I never did get), so we should not be oinking any time soon.  (I said OINKING, pay attention).  And of course we spent some money on the way out, which I'm sure is one of the reasons they offer flu shots there in the first place.   We were classic flu shot customers.

On the way to get flu shots, we took advantage of early voting in North Carolina, voting at the Connelly Springs Town Hall.   We were approached by a couple of ladies while in the parking lot - and one gave us a sheet telling us all the conservative candidates to vote for.   They may have technically broken the law by approaching us in the parking lot - you have to be a certain distance way from the polling station, and that may have been too close - but they looked like a cross between Aunt Bea and your favorite grandmother, so I doubt the Burke County police will slap them in the hoosegow any time soon, unless Barney Pfife shows up.  They were very nice, and we thanked them, but I'm pretty sure I didn't vote for anyone on their list.

Today we also dealt with installing a new DVR box, which was a lot more difficult than it should have been.  But basically all that had to be done was put the TV input (or is it output) cord on the correct post & pull out and re-seat the smart card.  Took a few minutes to figure that out, especially the smart card.  But now we are back in the 21st century.  We can once again DVR programs, pause live tv and skip the commercials.  Skipping commercials is important.  It's how I get past all the political ads, and in a month or so, it'll keep me from going crazy because of the Christmas ads. The old box suddenly quit working yesterday, and they got the new one to us today - pretty quick.  We have to send the old one back, so that'll be fun to deal with.

The day started with a dog walk, as usual.  We took the long way up to the cemetery, which means I got to walk up lots of hills, but only one way.  Not like in the old days when you had to walk up hills both ways, thanks of course, to modern engineering.  The last few days have been very pleasant, warm days, cool nights, clear skies, and the mountains are quite visible.  The leaves are changing, and things are very beautiful.   I hear it's going to rain though - fine with me, let it rain.  Just means Pickles and I will get wet when we go for our walks.

How did Pickles the Dog become so well behaved?

It has come as something as a shock to me that Pickles has become a moderately well behaved dog, and by that I mean better behaved than most.  I don't know how it happened.

She probably would not win a dog obedience contest, but she knows the basic commands.  Sit, down, stay, guess which hand & get away from the cat. When we're in walking mode, she walks at my speed, speeding up when I do, stopping when I do and so on.  When she's in her groove, I barely have to hold the leash.   I didn't do anything special, just lots and lots of walking, every day(over 2 miles this morning), and somehow I managed to let her know my expectations.  She stays at my side now, and it's pretty nice.  I have no idea when this happened, but it's been going on for a while now. 

When we walk past dogs that are going crazy barking at her, she normally does not respond.  That is a different story if we are in what she considers her territory, but out in the wilds of Valdese, she pretty much ignores the other dogs. 

When she was younger, if you let her off the leash there was no telling where she would end up, and it was not easy to get her to come back - she had a great time.  Now, most of the time she'll run around for awhile and then come right up to you. 

She changed. She's calmer. She's more socialized to other dogs and people. She's turned into a pretty good dog.

Snake Weather

Pickles the Dog & I almost stepped on a snake this morning.  It was a small thing, unwisely sunning itself on a sidewalk next to a busy street.  It must have had an extreme need for warmth, because the sidewalk was pretty hot.

I saw it at a distance, but I thought it was a stick.  As we approached it must have sensed us, and it's body kind of wrinkled up and it looked at us, oddly reminding me of the bible story about Moses turning a stick into a snake in front of Pharaoh. (Pronouced FAY-roe, btw).  I jumped.  I'm not sure Pickles noticed.  Last I saw it, it was headed into some grass, away from us.   Hopefully it made its way to some place a bit more hospitable for snakes.

This was a brown snake with what I think was a diamond shaped head.  To me, that screams copperhead, a poisonous snake.  Giftig auf Deutch, in case anyone speaks German out there.  But it wasn't as big as I would expect a copperhead to be.  I didn't exactly measure it, but it could not have been more than a foot long, probably less.  I don't know how to reconcile that, except I'm sure copperheads are not born full grown. Maybe it was young.

I've lived around snakes all my life.  Just about anywhere in the USA (except Hawaii), you will find snakes, many of them poisonous. 

In Kentucky, where I grew up, they were very common.   I encountered black snakes all the time, and usually they were on their way to somewhere else.   Once I remember my father and I came across one in the basement, and he killed it.  The snake had apparently crossed a line.  When I was young there were tons of black snakes and copperheads around where we live, and a few rattle snakes, maybe some water moccasins.  Now it seems the copperheads are few and the rattle snakes are many.

As a child, living where I did, encounters with snakes were fairly frequent.  What saved me was that snakes want nothing to do with a human - we're much too big to eat, in fact we're more likely to eat them as far as they are concerned.   But that being said, I've had to walk past them at times.  I once encountered a  curled up rattle snake half in and half out of some weeds, at the foot of an old swinging bridge while I was headed over my grandparents house just off Ball Creek in Knott County.  I froze for a second - I think it was asleep, it gave no indication of caring that I was there.  I gave it as wide a birth as I could, which believe me wasn't wide enough, and got past it.  But it was a long and careful walk up the creek to my grandparents house.  That was a big snake.

Here at our humble abode in North Carolina, I've seen black snakes & copperheads.  I've not seen any rattlers or water moccasins, though I know they are here.  At the bottom of our property there is a creek and a small pond, and what amounts to a small wetlands area - the perfect snake environment.  I don't change it much, because I figure it gives the snakes some place to go.  They can have their snake parties there, listen to their snake music and play their snake games, instead of up around the house.

Intellectually I know snakes are part of the ecosystem.  And they keep down the rodent population, and I'm all for that.  Emotionally though, they scare the crap out of me.  Part of that is the surprise of seeing one - it's unexpected.  Most likely I've walked past them without ever knowing it.  They're predators, and are very good at being stealthy.  They don't want to be seen, so when they are it's usually a surprise for all beings concerned.  Also, the poisonous ones have potential to be dangerous.  Most likely a normal human would survive a bite from a copperhead or rattle snake, but it would not be good.  You'd find yourself in a hospital & in a lot of agony.  And there is always the chance you wouldn't survive.

I don't like snakes.  I don't mind that they exist, but I prefer they not exist in my bubble.

Dog Reflections

This is a disorienting picture of two dogs who would probably get married, if dogs could get married and if North Carolina allowed same sex marriages.   I took the picture through the glass of the front door, so you can not only see inside a bit if you look hard enough, but you can see outside as well, a mirror image of the view in the very front of our house.  And, in what is closest I've ever come to displaying myself in this blog, you can see me taking the picture. 

Pickles is the black and white "ticked up" dog in front, & Marley is the white dog in back.  Pickles will be 3 years old later this year while Marley is just barely out of puppy hood.   They ran around our field (the very one I have to mow, because it rains, and on this planet when it rains grass & stuff grows) on several different occasions, then spent a lot of time trying to steal rawhide bones from each other.  There's plenty for both, but apparently that's not the issue.  They tend to exhaust each other, much more than I could ever tire Pickles out on one of our walks.

I took this picture just after I took the picture of the hummingbird feeder in the last post.  Apparently I was a topic of girl dog interest at the time.

Walking the Dog - the Sunday Version

If I think about it, I can always find something unusual about a dog walk.  Usually it isn't much, but most days there is something. 

I try to pay attention to my surroundings, when Pickles & I are prancing around in the heat.  I'm always wary of unleashed dogs, even though every one I've run into so far has been friendly.   But I take it so far as to remember things along the way.  I don't commit these to long term memory - I couldn't tell you very much about the dog walk we took last Wednesday, for example.  But I can tell you a bunch about the dog walk today.

First - I got a late start, and I blame that on Snowchief the cat who saw fit to wake us up off and on in the early morning hours.  So Pickles and I did not start our walk 'till around 9 AM.    I remember waving to some neighbors across the way - so I have witnesses.  I was in the field in front of our house at 9 AM or so, and I can prove it. 

We walked up to the cemetery this morning.  It was already hot - and I was sweating by the time I emerged from the last shady spot on South Avenue.  We were passed by 2 cars, one after another.  I didn't recognize either, but if it became necessary I could put an ad in the Morganton Herald asking if anyone saw a tall guy wearing a baseball cap (Orioles, not so lovable losers these days) walking a ticked up semi-hound looking dog around 9 AM on South Avenue, please contact so and so.  It's possible.

Frequently I'll see some of the neighbors out and about on South Avenue, but I didn't this time.  It was Sunday, and I started later than usual, that's my only explanation.  The neighbors I waved to 2 paragraphs ago are not the neighbors I didn't see this time. Those 'r different.

As we turned onto Praley, we were barked at by a dog across the street (across from Amazing Grace church).  It's owner was out so she saw us.  Another witness. 

We continued on up to the cemetery, being passed by a few cars along the way.  It's a steep hill to the top of the cemetery, and by the time we were up there the sweat was rolling freely.  I was soaked and Pickles' tongue was hanging around her knees.  This is not because we're not used to this walk.  It is because this is North Carolina, it is summer, it is HOT and it is HUMID, and that's just the way it is.  Life in the Southeast USA. 

On the way back is where the unusual event of this walk occurred.  I very nearly decided to take a bit of a short cut, in deference to the heat, but in the end took the usual route.   We walked down the hill and came out near Praley& Carolina, then headed back.  When we rounded the curve, I noticed two police cars in the driveway of a house across from the cemetery.  They were leaving as I walked by, and one (in the unmarked cool looking Dodge Charger) was having trouble getting out of the driveway.  The car is rear-wheel drive, and the driveway was loose dirt and gravel and slightly uphill, so it was spinning a bit, but he managed.  Anyway, both those police officers saw me.  So, at sometime around 9:30 give or take, I was seen on Praley by two of Valdese's finest.  Pretty good witnesses, I'd say.

Now why would I word it like that?  All these people who saw me are potential witnesses to where I was at certain times?  'Cause I watch too many "true crime" dramas on TV.   It's not because I'm anywhere close to crazy.  Maybe I'm getting close to being close, but I'm not quite there yet.

Besides, paying attention occupies my mind, so that these walks become something more than one step in front of another.

How Pickles Got Her Name

The title is a little misleading.  Just be aware.  But I'll get to it.

Sunday, we went to a flea market (swap meet in some parts of the country) near town, just off an exit on I-40.  I approach these things differently now than I used to.  Used to, I was always looking for something I could pick up cheap to resell, either in our booth or on eBay.  We don't rent a booth anywhere anymore, and we're much more specialized on eBay these days, so I wasn't really looking for resell items.  I was hoping to find some books, cheap.  And I was disappointed, because besides some cook books, which are bit lacking in the plot department, there weren't any.

This is not a big flea market, but still it had space for twice as many vendors as were there.  And there weren't that many customers either.  Some of the vendors who were there had given up and were packing their stuff away.  I can feel for them, it's hard to sell people random stuff.  Even when it's cheap.

Near the end of the market was a person selling live chickens and roosters & Patti Anne wanted to go look at them.  So we did.  They were packing their chickens up - it was getting hot but a lot were still out.  And this is where I get to the title.

In 2008 we went to a flea market in Jamestown, NC, just on the other side of Morganton and much larger than this one.  There were a ton of animals for sell there, from Chihuahuas to Pit Bulls.  Some were people who just had puppies they needed to find homes for, but a lot were puppy mill types I'm pretty sure.  We were walking past them when we saw this black and white dog stuffed into a chicken crate - the same size we saw at the flea market yesterday.   She had no room to move, period.  She could not even stretch out.  I was afraid the dog had been abused, and would not make a good pet, but Patti Anne has a better heart than I do, so she asked the man about it.  This guy looked like he came straight out of the mountains, but he assured us that the dog was healthy & could walk and stuff like that. He warned us that she was likely to pick up stuff and carry it away (and she does). He didn't want any money, he just wanted to give her away.  He said her name was "Pickles".  So we took the dog, who seemed to be scared to death.  First thing we did when we got her home was give her a bath, because she was caked in red dirt.  She was about 9 months old, and the next day we got her to a vet for shots, because as far as we could tell she had never had any.  Later that month we had her spayed.  The "free" dog cost about $400 the first month.  That month we had to get her used to riding in a vehicle,  to being in a house (she was afraid to go in at first), used to stairs, housebreak her (took about 3 weeks before she was 100% housebroken),  used to walking on a leash and so on.  It took some work at first, but it's turned out ok.  Just her getting a little older helps - she's not near the puppy she once was.

So, Pickles got her name because that's what that old guy at the Jamestown Flea Market said it was.  She recognised it so we never changed it.  I don't know if we're the best dog owners in the world, but she's part of our little family now, she gets exercise, knows basic obedience commands (sit, stay, not so great about coming when called though), gets enough to eat, and has a safe place to sleep at night.  She thinks she's a "good" dog and a pretty dog, and we don't tell her any differently.

Dog Identity Crises

Ever since I looked online a couple of years ago, I've been telling anybody who asked, that my dog Pickles was a Bluetick/Lab mix.  

I ran into a person who agreed with the Lab part, but not the Bluetick - he insisted that Pickle's is a Blue Heeler.  He said he had raised & trained Blue Heelers, and she had the markings.

A Bluetick Coon Hound & a Blue Heeler are two different animals.   But surprisingly, when they are mixed with other breeds, things can get confusing.

Pickles is smaller than either a Lab or a Bluetick.  She is a moderate to high energy dog (despite her appearance in the picture), extremely alert.  She has a very good and resounding bark - not quite the quality of a Basset Hound maybe,  but you won't ignore it.  She is basically friendly, though that is not always apparent to strangers. 

In the words of a little girl in the Food Lion parking lot, she's "all ticked up".   Her ears are Lab-like, but her body markings arent.  She has the one large black spot you can see in the picture, and a smaller one near her tail that you can't see.  She get's a lot of looks, because she looks like a dog that might be good at something.

Little do they know......

Personality wise, she's always on the alert.  Constantly looking out windows, going from one to another, and barking at anything that comes close to our property, especially people and other dogs.   She seems to track things, if she catches a sent she wants to follow it, and she follows it on the ground.   I've not seen any herding characteristics, but I wouldn't know them if they kicked me in the nose.  She has a LOT of energy - the walks I take her on, no matter how far, are mere child's play for her.   I was used to being able to outlast dogs on long walks, but I cannot outlast Pickles.

So now I looked online again, and I've seen Blue Heelers with body markings similar to Pickles.  The head is much different, but some of the body's look very close.  I'm starting to join the Blue Heeler camp. 

It doesn't matter.  Pickles is our dog, she's part of the family, and she's a mutt.  But it gives me something to talk about.

Marley & Pickles - the Dogs

Marley the Dog came over for a visit with Pickles the Dog a couple of days ago, and they played like maniacs.  Well Pickles is a maniac, I think Marley would have been happy to sit around and chew on a rawhide bone. 

Marley is the tall dog in the foreground, and Pickles is the one partially hidden by a cushion of a partially torn-up couch.  Partially torn up by a couple of dogs chasing each other and bouncing off it. 

It is amazing how two fairly good sized animals can run such tight circles around chairs and coffee tables, then turn around and do it all backwards, without knocking too much stuff over.

A good time was had by all, and only a little bit of blood was spilled.  Pickles was quite tired for quite awhile afterwards and as every dog owner knows, a tired dog is a good dog.

Frozen Fountain, Main Street, Valdese, NC

This picture, taken by our own Patti Anne (nice picture Patti Anne - that's 4), is just off the corner of Main & Roderet in Valdese.  It shows ice spilling over the sides of the fountain located in the courtyard of the Waldensian church.  It's just not natural, and not because there is an erie blue color about the ice.  It shouldn't be this cold here.  

This morning Pickles the dog and I went for a longish walk in a nice soft rain.  If it were summer time, that might be pleasant.  But since it was barely above freezing, it was pure dedication to walking the dog.  Pickles didn't seem to mind, but the human in the group was quite uncomfortable.  I suppose I need to get in touch with my inner dog.

Watching People Work

Today we loaded up as usual to go to the post office - well a little earlier than usual because we didn't do any eBay listing because I had to take care of a little screw up I caused on Tuesday. But, to quote my previous post, that's not what this post is about. Just a little word of advice - when you go to a doctor & they write some prescriptions, make sure you've got them all before you leave.

Anyway.

We loaded up EARLIER than usual to head to the post office. Patti Anne volunteered to take the mail in this time and it involved a trip to the counter so I figured we had a few minutes. So I took Gnarls Barkley and walked around some. Valdese is building a new town hall just south of the post office, so Pickles and I watched them work for a minute or two.

Watching other people work is a time-honored tradition in American society. I highly recommend it, especially when heavy equipment and ditches are involved. Its a lot more fun to watch it than to actually do it. I speak from experience, based on my short tenure as a landscape laborer many, many years ago. Pickles did seem more interested in dirt clods though. She's a dog, what can you do?

After that we walked across St. Germain, Pickles jumped up on a wall next to the Waldensian museum and we sat there watching traffic go by until Patti Anne returned. It was great fun. Tails were wagged.

Wet Weather Dog Walking

It started raining early this morning, perhaps 4 AM or so, and did not stop until 6 or 7 this evening. I've never let a little rain get in the way of walking the dog, so I figured today should not be any different.  So about 8:30 this morning, I grabbed my trusty rain jacket, with hood, leashed up old Pickles (aka Gnarls Barkley), and we set out.   

It didn't seem too bad at first, but I keep forgetting about the trees.  Even though the leaves are finally gone, we have a bunch of very large trees around the house, and the branches alone can effect my perception of how hard its raining, or how cool or warm it is, depending on if it's cold or hot.  Or raining.

So anyway we headed out to South Avenue and walked toward Praley.   By the time we got to Praley, maybe 1/4th of a mile away, I began to have 2nd thoughts.   Pickles was soaked and would stop to shake every few steps then look at me like I was an idiot.  My jacket was keeping me dry - except everywhere it didn't reach, which was most places.   In those places I was soaked.

We turned left on Praley  & walked toward Pineburr.  Praley is a major street in this little town, so we were upon occasion passed by a vehicle.  I ignored the looks of disbelief of many of the drivers, and when an 18 wheeler came rolling down the hill we had to stop and look.  Pickles insists on stopping and looking at anything big or loud.   18 wheelers fit her definition of big and loud.

The more we walked, the harder it rained, so Pickles and I took a vote and decided to cut the walk a little short today.  We turned on Pineburr, went up Colonial, took a little short cut on Fox over to Orchard & back to South Avenue. 

Here's one thing I noticed.  I know where all the barking dogs live, but today not one of them came out to bark at us.  Not Lucky Bear, not Arnold Ziffel, and especially not that pack of dogs that live in back of a house on Fox.  

I reckon these are fair weather barkers.   I say, if you're going to take the trouble to bark at me when the sun is shining, you should also bark at me when its raining.   All I'm asking is consistency out of these mutts.  

Pickles had no complaints about getting back home.   She shook off, became a crazy dog for a minute or two then went to sleep.

Pickles & Me Walking Home

Just a lazy Sunday afternoon in Valdese.

A Poem About Pickles the Dog, with apologies to Patti Anne, who thought of it.

Sung to the tune of Wayfarin' Stranger (the Emmylou Harris/Ricky Skaggs version).  Roughly.   And please forgive any inconsistencies - I don't spend a lot of time on this stuff.

Oh my name is Pickles Anne, I do not live in that trailer park,

If I did, I'd be Rover or Rambler, or maybe Spot, I'm glad I'm not.

Oh I love my view of the Mountains,  I love to chase that Snowchief Cat,

I love to sleep next to my window, and bark at squirrels and stuff like that.

Now the trailer park is tempting, with good things to sniff and smell,

With that road to run around in, and a nice doghouse to dwell.

But there aint no view of the mountains, and there aint no Snowchief Cat,

I like my name, I like my people, I think I'll stay right where I'm at.

Just a quick picture of Pickles the Dog

Just a quick picture of Ol' Pickles, who is almost a good dog. She's a Bluetick Coonhound/Black Lab mix, with a personality (and most of her markings) leaning toward the Bluetick.   This dog can go from a deep sleep to full out barking in about 1.5 seconds.  It's amazing.  She's friendly, but a very good watch dog.  
I need to amend a statement in the paragraph above.  As coincidence would have it, she has just proved that she can go from deep sleep to full out barking pretty much instantly.  Some sort of ani-mule must be prowling our night time yard.

A Valdese Dog

I started a new blog about Pickles the Dog (P. Doggie), mostly documenting dog walks and other thoughts. It is linked to this blog, so check it out if you're interested. It's called "A Valdese Dog". Click on the title to go to it.