See if this doesn't make you laugh and cry at the same time...

Baby elephant rescued from a well.

happily, ronnie

I sing teh goggie electric.

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I should clarify that this is Condescending Literary Pun dog. Hence the condescending literary pun. Which made me laugh.

ronnie

I can't figure out if I have to boycott you anyway.

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ronnie

The World's Cutest Drug-Sniffing Dog

This picture of Emma, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, posted recently to Sherwood Harrington's PicShers blog, reminded me of something we saw in Cuba on our last visit that I didn't blog about because I didn't have a photo to post.

We landed at Frank Pais Airport in Holguin, and while the passengers were collecting their baggage from the carousel, out came two handlers with The World's Cutest Drug-Sniffing Dog.

I'm not sure of the breed, or even if it was a purebred, but The World's Cutest Drug-Sniffing Dog looked almost exactly like Fort Harrington's Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. He - or she - was running around like a mad thing, having the best time ever sniffing everyone's luggage.

Those German Shepherd drug-sniffing dogs, they look all business. They're uniform-wearing, badge-toting LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICERS, you all. They make you worry that your cosmetic bag is carrying the faint trace of the joint your cousin smoked in the bathtub seven years ago.

This dog was adorable, and made you just want to scoop him up and hug him, and worry that your cosmetic bag is carrying the faint trace of the joint your cousin smoked in the bathtub seven years ago.

I wanted to take a picture. I decided that taking a picture of the drug-sniffing dog in a developing country that happens to be Cuba wasn't the very smartest thing that I could do. So I didn't.

But I am happy that I have been able to share - with photographic assistance - the story of The World's Cutest Drug-Sniffing Dog.

ronnie

Oh, deer! redux

Final Standings:
Moose Count: 0
Deer Count: 55

You read that right. I counted forty-seven deer last night on my drive from Moncton to Fredericton to add to the eight I'd seen thus far. That's forty-seven I saw; I doubtless passed dozens, even hundreds, more, further back from the roadside and blending in with the brown and gold brush their coats camoflage them so perfectly in.

Something - the deep snow, probably - had forced them to the very edge of the highway to forage. They all seemed entirely disinterested in the highway or the cars. Photographing them turned out to be a self-defeating proposition; for the act of pulling the car off the highway to take a picture inevitably spooked them into running for cover. Therefore, the few pictures I got more or less duplicate this one - the maverick, the last brave one who stayed behind after all the herd had hidden in the treeline, out of sheer foolish curiosity, to wait and see just what that big blue bug wanted, anyway.

What it wanted was to make its last commute home safely, thanks, and it wished the same for all of those deer along the highway. I drove the whole way at 80kmh (the highway speed limit is 110kmh) just in case one of those lithe guys decided to sprint out into my path.

It was a remarkable drive. I have never seen close to that number of deer or any other wild animal on a drive before. I guess it's been a hard winter for them. Some rain next week should melt some of the snow and give them some relief.

As for me, I've arranged things so that I can take a couple of weeks off between jobs. I think I need it to decompress from the unnatural living conditions of the last three months.

Deer oh deer. What a long, strange trip it's been. How funny that it feels like so many of you have made it with me!

ronnie

But dey keeps comin back enewai...

Oh, deer!

Moose count: 0
Deer count: 8!

Four of them late this afternoon, gathered together on a hillside right next to the highway, foraging under the snow. No moose fence between us, but they were entirely disinterested in the heavy traffic whizzing past them. Phenomenal and scary. Coming upon them at 100kph in heavy traffic left no room for a photo op, just a stunned slowdown and crawl-past.

With just two commutes left, something told me this was nature's way of telling me not to get complacent...

ronnie

Animal Planet

Current standings:

Moose count: 0

Deer count: 4

The latest was standing on the side of the road - just the other side of the moose fencing. So we know that's working. Whew.

(<= Artist's rendition of deer and fencing.)

ronnie

Animeme

Chris Clarke tagged Sherwood with an "Animeme" - a meme (something that gets passed around the internet) that was all about animals. He also told Sherwood that one of the conditions of the meme was that you had to tag nine other people with it.

I am one of those people, and impressed to be in such outstanding company. Since the circle is small enough that several of those I'd want to pass it onto have already gotten it, I won't pass it on to nine other people, but will pass it to one who is especially qualified to respond to it, at the end. (No peeking.)

An interesting animal I had

Our old dog Buster. Buster was what we call in Newfoundland a "crackie", and not just any crackie - which can mean any small mongrel dog - but a true Newfoundland Crackie, a small, black, sleek mongrel waterdog. They probably evolved from Newfoundlands, Black Labs, and some other breeds that worked on the island in the day. Today, they're enough alike to almost be a breed themselves.

Buster came from a litter a stray had under the Orange Lodge in the town I grew up in. He was our constant companion growing up. He was especially my sister's constant companion; she was a toddler when we got him, so they grew up together.

One day, after my dad cleaned the old Canadian Tire Special bar-be-que that everybody in the neighbourhood had, he carelessly stacked it up in a corner of the porch, body, folding legs, and grill in a messy metal pile. Buster, who, if given the option, preferred to sit on something than not on something, sat on the pile and brought the whole thing crashing to the floor. I still recall him running through the house like a streak of dog through a tin whistle. He couldn't have run away any faster if that barbecue had been full of glowing coals.

After my brother and I left home, he stayed with my sister, his muzzle getting greyer and greyer, her faithful companion until the morning, in his sixteenth year, when he just... didn't wake up. Bless that old dog.

Maybe not the most "interesting" animal - although all I've ever had are dogs, cats, gerbils, a dwarf bunny and goldfish - but by far the one that had the most impact on my childhood and youth.

An interesting animal I ate

Let's see... I've eaten elk, emu, reindeer, caribou, ostrich, turr (a seabird), seal, moose... I don't know how particularly "interesting" any of them are. The best thing I ever ate was a purloined lobster. My brother and I had gone to my Aunt's house in a nearby town on our bicycles. My Uncle was a lobster fisherman, and my Aunt gave us a big bag of cooked lobsters to take back to our place. Halfway between the two towns, we left the road (which ran along the sea coast) and hid out on the beach behind a place called Jack's Rock, where the kids used to make bonfires at night and there was a big driftwood log to sit on. We each took one of the lobsters and ate it there and then. The location, the company, and the freshness of the seafood - it was truly exquisite. Then we headed home, leaving the leftovers for the seagulls, and hoping that Aunt Shirley never mentioned to Mom how many lobsters she'd sent with us!

An interesting animal in the Museum

Not the Museum but the Zoo - the Magnetic Hill Zoo in Moncton. We visited last summer, my first time, and I met a very queer animal I had no idea existed. Sometimes you just wonder what evolution is up to!

An interesting thing I did with or to an animal

True confessions time: I dyed Mojo green.

When he was at the SPCA with the rest of his litter, the folks would dab the kittens who had been spayed or neutered with a dab of green vegetable dye so they'd know who'd been done and who still needed to be done. The kittens can't go home until they have the surgery, so when he came home with us, he had this blotch of green dye, about the size of a bingo dabber (in fact they probably use something similar) on his hip. It had kind of dried hard and gummed up his fur a little bit. They told me it would wear off, but I decided in my Cat Mama wisdom to give my little charge a wee bath and get that old sticky dried hard fur all nice and white and soft again. So I put him in the sink, into some warm water, and started to bathe him.

Well, the dye was water soluble, all right. It was so water soluble it turned the entire bath green. And in turn, dyed all Mojo's white bits green as well.

There are no photos of this debacle. I forbade Husband to record any part of this shameful episode in the record of Mojo's kittenhood. I can only hope that the repressed memory of spending approximately a week as the world's only black-and-green tuxedo cat doesn't become the sort of repressed trauma that causes him to become a serial killer later.

An interesting animal in its natural habitat

A moose. Snowy woods. One scared kid.

My dad and his brother used to cut their own wood for their respective woodstoves, going on snowmobiles with sleigh-trailers in tow onto Crown Land for their alloted amount (everyone got a share). My brother and I were pressed into service in this endeavour; we'd help pull logs to the trailer and load them on, but because I was a girl, I got a break around lunchtime when I was to go a little ways away and start a fire and put the kettle on for the boil-up. (Tea, of course. We didn't drink coffee. That was for Mainlanders.)

One of those days, I was quite a ways away from my dad, uncle and brother, and was melting snow in the kettle, adding it as it melted down, to get enough water for the tea, when I heard a sound behind me. I turned and saw a shape through some trees. I couldn't make out what it was, but frankly, was too young to be intelligent enough to be scared, so I went to investigate. I walked through a small copse of woods and there was a full-grown bull moose standing not ten metres away from me. We stared at each other, both a little stunned, I think; then, just as I began backing into the woods, he snorted, turned and walked away. I didn't realize how lucky I was until I told my father - and saw how white his face got. I don't think I got out of eyesight distance on trips to the woods after that.

So there you have it. A lunch hour's worth of animal memories. And who is the person whom I am passing the challenge of providing her own answers to these questions?

My sister.

ronnie