HH Talks Puppies
Today is Tuesday, 19 September 2006.
HH owes his readers promised columns on: the profession of war, 2008 Presidential picks, and puppies.
1.
Our rescued dachshund puppy, jet-black with a white chest blaze, Sophie Tucker, does something so endearing. I put her food bowl down and, before she eats, she always licks my hand, which I interpret as thanks. This charms me but disturbs me, for it is us humans who should be thanking dogs and cats.
After all, when the event called, in fascist-speak, “domestication” occurred, it was a partnership: dogs and cats protected us from many harms, and humans gave them food they didn’t have to catch and, hopefully, affection.
2.
Once upon a time, HH had a co-worker named Debbie. Once she had lived on a cattle ranch, which her husband, an agronomist (and perhaps a sometime CIA operative in South America, but that’s another story), managed.
One rainy night on the ranch, a cow had great difficulty in dropping a calf. Debbie helped the vet in the delivery. Perhaps because of the trauma, the heifer shunned the calf, and Debbie bottle-fed her and raised her.
Naturally, the calf, whom Debbie named Jennie, followed her everywhere. She lived, not in the pastures and cattle pens, but in the backyard of the house. When the French doors were open, Jennie would amble up and look in, hoping to see Debbie.
Debbie had been in the habit of taking long walks along the dirt roads of the farm. Three dogs and the cat, who tuckered out part-way and had to be carried. Jennie soon demanded her place in the procession. What a sight that must have been.
As Jennie grew up, she began to spend more time with other cows. Eventually, she became a mother herself, giving easy birth.
But, every time Debbie went out to the pasture, Jennie would trot up and nuzzle her, reveling in the scratches behind her ears, before … Debbie thought, imagined, hoped ... returning wistfully, regretfully, to her calf and the herd.
A True Story.
3.
To youse out there in cyberland, and youse knows who youse are: HH has redeemed his pledge to talk puppies.
Now can I go back to gloom and doom?
Please?
HH owes his readers promised columns on: the profession of war, 2008 Presidential picks, and puppies.
1.
Our rescued dachshund puppy, jet-black with a white chest blaze, Sophie Tucker, does something so endearing. I put her food bowl down and, before she eats, she always licks my hand, which I interpret as thanks. This charms me but disturbs me, for it is us humans who should be thanking dogs and cats.
After all, when the event called, in fascist-speak, “domestication” occurred, it was a partnership: dogs and cats protected us from many harms, and humans gave them food they didn’t have to catch and, hopefully, affection.
2.
Once upon a time, HH had a co-worker named Debbie. Once she had lived on a cattle ranch, which her husband, an agronomist (and perhaps a sometime CIA operative in South America, but that’s another story), managed.
One rainy night on the ranch, a cow had great difficulty in dropping a calf. Debbie helped the vet in the delivery. Perhaps because of the trauma, the heifer shunned the calf, and Debbie bottle-fed her and raised her.
Naturally, the calf, whom Debbie named Jennie, followed her everywhere. She lived, not in the pastures and cattle pens, but in the backyard of the house. When the French doors were open, Jennie would amble up and look in, hoping to see Debbie.
Debbie had been in the habit of taking long walks along the dirt roads of the farm. Three dogs and the cat, who tuckered out part-way and had to be carried. Jennie soon demanded her place in the procession. What a sight that must have been.
As Jennie grew up, she began to spend more time with other cows. Eventually, she became a mother herself, giving easy birth.
But, every time Debbie went out to the pasture, Jennie would trot up and nuzzle her, reveling in the scratches behind her ears, before … Debbie thought, imagined, hoped ... returning wistfully, regretfully, to her calf and the herd.
A True Story.
3.
To youse out there in cyberland, and youse knows who youse are: HH has redeemed his pledge to talk puppies.
Now can I go back to gloom and doom?
Please?
posted by HH at 5:45 AM
3 Comments:
Thanks for the nice stories. People who know you well, know that you are a nice guy, fun to be with, and enjoy things of joy. We know you are not all focused and serious. Your wider population of readers needs to be reminded of that occasionally.
This touching story fits very well with Ward's weekly quote on weirdward.net.
http://www.weirdward.net/Wardsquotes.html
Dana LeMoine
WeirdWard.net WebMonster
HH cannot recommend the above Ward site, Webmonstered by Dana LeM, enough.
Mr. Ward was one of those teachers, in the "formative years", he didn't just teach the subject, he was an exemplar of what a good person should be. And we're glad he's still with us, and still an exemplar.
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