tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88071491442361529832024-03-19T02:34:17.940-07:00William Tell's SpotAdventures of a Wire Fox Terrier and his PalsWilliam Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-4895159261341828582011-09-09T09:45:00.000-07:002011-09-09T10:07:17.507-07:00She's Doesn't Play DogBall, Either<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVjj15hmve9hHDLQfQ1ZmkGpTkBJh485fCnvjEfUKYdryTZHerZvQOraH85mGU1mepiQpZcSBWkb9GpOqq1FRXJB-r2jTOA17-WHg7fi57j47QVOJD5z88g7CnnPSJwNs-fzi1XodsF4/s1600/tel0829a.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650406611776707490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVjj15hmve9hHDLQfQ1ZmkGpTkBJh485fCnvjEfUKYdryTZHerZvQOraH85mGU1mepiQpZcSBWkb9GpOqq1FRXJB-r2jTOA17-WHg7fi57j47QVOJD5z88g7CnnPSJwNs-fzi1XodsF4/s200/tel0829a.jpg" /></a> <br /><div>Way back when I first came to live with The Family, my main job was to be a companion to My Boy. He wanted a dog he could teach tricks, and I was just the pup he needed. As I grew up, I was given a few more responsibilities like security guard, fence inspector and chief chicken plucker, but the job with My Boy was always a priority. I kept myself primed to take off at a moment's notice and go with him wherever he wanted. We were two peas in a pod, that much alike. Well, all that has changed now.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The other day, My Boy packed his gear into a suitcase, loaded a few books and drove away. He's enrolled in college down in southeastern Oklahoma. Guess who has been left behind to mope and peer out the windows at nothing? Yeah, you got it. Apparently DOGS are not allowed in the dorms down there. Mom says not to worry, she'll take care of me until the weekends when My Boy comes home, but between you and me, she's not a wrassler and can't throw a stick at all.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I never knew this place could be so quiet...</div><br /><div>~Tell</div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-3622175579364793342011-08-04T10:13:00.000-07:002011-08-04T10:51:13.325-07:00Helping Fly a Mississippi Kite<p align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">Oklahoma has been having a terrible drought problem this summer, and the triple digit temperatures are setting records. It's not even fun to go outside anymore because it makes us pant so hard. And you know when I'm not digging a hole or roaming the farm, it's a serious matter. All we can do is sit inside and enjoy the air conditioning. That's what I was doing when I happened to hear a car and looked out the window. Wouldn't you know it, a police officer was walking up to the front door. Well sir, I can tell you that had me worried and I was trying to think what in the world I had done this time that they were sending backup to our house when Mom met him at the door.</span></p><br /><p align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKuvB_VvMjaF4FDjocmNnYASLo3GRurHTpmGMeun3kqTTEG-mts3tdpKPSpeicdBRkCAqdSWh0g-ESRyVqXJC-_yHe8RN1AJ2Mugqibe3M6s_6HDs2iqWqPuLalu9drSWMadeNTvyguw/s1600/tells.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637051618384390658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKuvB_VvMjaF4FDjocmNnYASLo3GRurHTpmGMeun3kqTTEG-mts3tdpKPSpeicdBRkCAqdSWh0g-ESRyVqXJC-_yHe8RN1AJ2Mugqibe3M6s_6HDs2iqWqPuLalu9drSWMadeNTvyguw/s320/tells.jpg" /></a></p><span style="font-size:130%;">The officer was carrying something small and fluffy in his hat. I was all for eating it on the spot, but My Girl made a nest out of towels and a cardboard box and then put that puff-ball in there. The officer said he didn't know what it was but he saw it sitting on the side of the road looking all lost and forlorn, so he picked it up and brought it straight over.<br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKa68Qe8FejX69tBAlflbRyJALjaBcNFRZ-eP6pkKjiC1sFH9AnonfL2J77h_m7areMKNo1yhOZF8QvpnweytSVOIDngxq362Lyzj5SC4bIA4Le23jCYQK3rPfhdPcCpjda6lk6rWEvc/s1600/100_2267.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637050899850457202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKa68Qe8FejX69tBAlflbRyJALjaBcNFRZ-eP6pkKjiC1sFH9AnonfL2J77h_m7areMKNo1yhOZF8QvpnweytSVOIDngxq362Lyzj5SC4bIA4Le23jCYQK3rPfhdPcCpjda6lk6rWEvc/s320/100_2267.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I said I thought it was an iggle, our national bird. There are a few iggle nests around these parts. Whew, good thing I didn't eat it, huh? Mom said it was a very odd bird and that it was something she didn't feel all that confident taking care of, so we called a friend who works for the Oklahoma State Department of Wildlife. He came and took this little bird home with him and did some research. It is a Mississippi kite, a small bird of prey. Kites nest during the hottest part of the summer and this has been a very bad year for them. They are jumping out of their nests in record numbers trying to find relief from the extreme heat or else they will die in their nests. Poor babies! Most wildlife rehab workers for the state take in about 10 orphan kites a year, but they are now taking in about 10 A DAY! One place has over 60 babies kites they are feeding. So now I'm really glad I didn't gobble it up, it was having a hard enough time just surviving. Happily, Little Puff is thriving today and should be able to migrate to South America this fall with the rest of the kite families. I hope he thinks about us down there this winter, and remembers fondly how we helped him on his way. And that I didn't eat him.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-80308798475975069482011-07-20T10:18:00.000-07:002011-07-20T11:40:17.394-07:00I Go Bear Hunting and Tree a Big 'Un<div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">First, a thank you to everyone for the kind words since Cap's passing. There is definitely an empty spot at home but Glynn and I are doing our best to keep everyone's spirits up. I do miss aggravating the old fellow, though. He never did more than a bit of grumbling under his breath, but I think he enjoyed it, too. We had our routine, I'd poke him with my nose, he would grrrr, and we'd both be happy. I'd like to think it was the highlight of his day. Was for me.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631495121588028658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_tYldbLK_8tD5a_dQgwT3kqKpH2F2_VI_sDPM9s-cPcc9uLs7Ymb3hGDIyyaDSWB99-YnJXIH1ujGmaFoXWPDjGBC7NQbd0fIng2kjvqmFt-mjnyUAi7jX-NSEdkDAPdmmdWKnSwhIg/s320/tel0720a.jpg" /></span> <br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">We're in danger of losing a few trees around the house from the heat and drought. The old cherry tree hasn't looked good in awhile, but this year it's pretty pitiful. A lot of the branches are dead and one even fell off. I think the lack of water had just about killed it.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 272px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631492746837799890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTCkF6FT6nj4vPGYAI1NfjslXCk6mGZzF_7DLvN6lj_Ak35gSIc5Mqnvhbrw5rHyQ94voFk9bxiDNUj3mpIaftgmnzFp5CvCda50XbxuXIQFPUsFpIpKldfmV2_seX6cODyLaJc3Nyd8/s320/100_2132.JPG" />Then we noticed that there are a couple of baby cherry trees growing up from the roots. Yea! Mom is watering them every day and we hope they'll keep growing. I love tart cherry pie.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631494481731151394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKCUXh3NIMRDIjx1kwkZRKKeIq2IXP97dKaOD3pwiRg6RxuWqf2SQjZirxS8Zk2CBPGQYU_oxnXm8L-LOj_FP1VrF4ZHSlfTDn4ao-XXp-YuNXezhD9eIGaiQgG1TqZNCZ-lo3YSJm3c/s320/100_2136.JPG" /></span> <br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Now, are you ready for a good story? Last night I could have sworn I saw something big outside, so I shouted out, "BEAR!" and sounded the alarm. Yeah, that's right, a BEAR was hustlin' its furry behind up the far side of a tree. I raced over in the dark and could barely make out those huge BEAR paws clawing up the bark. Then it poked its head around to look at me and growled. I told it off good and proper, though I was worried it might turn out to be a Sasquatch but Glynn said that was silly. A Sasquatch can't climb trees, it could only be a bruin of some sorts. So Mom grabbed her camera and we tiptoed around the tree and found this.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631490071216240658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4e6Hgc5qKJT4_vmC0vZBnbj8g-F9l3MCuoXXSXzFXGEZ3zItbKMsKW7k-RdB1Prx1oVx4YJTyvn6j9freVnq710pS0QslTX6swgzXf2FvI6NLtOsoNo59C0Qr01Jz5eOBEDrhwW7pgE/s320/100_2178.JPG" /></span> <br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Just a big raccoon and four babies. What I thought were BEAR paws were only the babies scurrying up both sides of the tree trunk behind their mama. What a let-down. I felt pretty silly until Glynn told me that it was alright, she had thought it was a bear in a bandit mask, too. That's the good thing about my Little Sis, she has my back, even when it's facing down a BEAR.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div></div></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-32600539152430857282011-06-28T11:16:00.000-07:002011-06-28T11:33:01.517-07:00Saying Goodbye to an Old Friend<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2ihIiOl5HtnAeNeXMaox2vDr2um-cWm_cJ6s9J1_5Nf_wVFwyfNkq2HJtZV4UNK8Q_NN2BR965dGBIcgWduo2zle7mWfuDrry7JC5hynVmzcK_mULJThVzek1NMQnd7Fxa7tecpNStk/s1600/capjenk2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 311px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623337517564485346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2ihIiOl5HtnAeNeXMaox2vDr2um-cWm_cJ6s9J1_5Nf_wVFwyfNkq2HJtZV4UNK8Q_NN2BR965dGBIcgWduo2zle7mWfuDrry7JC5hynVmzcK_mULJThVzek1NMQnd7Fxa7tecpNStk/s320/capjenk2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><em>The little bed is sitting just inside the kitchen door,<br />A hedgehog stuffie near it, forgotten on the floor.<br />No jingle of his collar, his food bowl’s put away.<br />The sunbeam finds an empty spot on this perplexing day.<br /><br />The kids seem very quiet. Mom’s got something in her eye.<br />Dad’s not saying much at all, and we both wonder why?<br />One of us is missing, now our trio’s down to two.<br />Things feel very odd right today, and we don’t know what to do.<br /><br />We searched the yard, looked in the den, and by Dad’s favorite chair.<br />We sniffed upstairs, but all we found was a lock of wiry hair.<br />It was tied up with a ribbon and a little purple bow,<br />Tucked inside a keepsake book where it mostly didn’t show.<br /><br />So God, I know You listen to all creatures great and small.<br />If You don’t mind, I’d like to ask one favor, very small.<br />Please look after my good friend from Your throne up in the sky.<br />Give him strength to run again, and hold his head up high.<br /><br />Make his old eyes see things clear, his hearing good as new,<br />And take away the old age pain as only You can do.<br />A frisky squirrel to chase around would give him lots of fun.<br />And when he’s tired, a nice soft bed warmed by a ray of sun.<br /><br />He did so love his squeakies, so give him two or three.<br />They will help pass the time until we once more we meet.<br />Let him know we miss him, give him scritches and some love,<br />And tell him that we’ll see him soon when we cross the bridge above.</em></strong> </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Rest in peace, Cap.<em><strong> </strong></em>You'll be missed.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-84250615386216673562011-06-21T09:55:00.000-07:002011-06-21T10:42:43.431-07:00Rescue Riding<span style="font-size:130%;">Hi-ho, everyone! Seems like it's been a hundred years since I last blogged. Been kept busy riding herd on Little Guy. He's a toddler now and Mom, being the grandma, volunteered to keep him while his parents work. Let's just say that keeping up with a two-year-old is like trying to herd a mountain goat. Full-time job. Anyway, Mom and Dad managed to arrange a few days off for a motorcycle trip and went cruising in Arkansas. We doggies have not yet found a way to accompany them on these trips but we're still working on that. I'm thinking a mini travel trailer they can pull behind...</span><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 216px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620723540374362594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSH3ymo3n3ZIKDamU_yz_f8xfjJj-96vsz9ggwNiPhiKoMLGA9Dpybw86jyviXIv4MnMepUbjI34NHD60ouXpqOQ9b3y9UsfpP5hcHso3I_8BKVqdctVZuGocHu1CRFlTkm0OrJ812Az8/s320/100_1535.JPG" /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Last weekend they were able to combine two things they like the most, which is motorcycles and rescue work. They attended a Rescue Ride and Poker Run to benefit our local humane society. Dad had a pretty good poker hand but got beat by a royal flush in the end, but they did manage to snag a nice door prize. It's a big wreath with flowers and it's perfect for Mom's office. Well, perfect all except it needed just a little embellishment to keep with the decor theme she had going.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTGa77-iQpVitnFFRTrSxkSjXlVVpwct5WSS_CYrK9d1knqPjBk6TrAqrVoph3wG1Wt3NQcNSeper2__Ar9j3rbsxvenfsCrXPz84AhS2g4Tmk0nt0-VsJVe9128i9-FdsppRPcassGI/s1600/wftwreat.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 273px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620724870437486866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTGa77-iQpVitnFFRTrSxkSjXlVVpwct5WSS_CYrK9d1knqPjBk6TrAqrVoph3wG1Wt3NQcNSeper2__Ar9j3rbsxvenfsCrXPz84AhS2g4Tmk0nt0-VsJVe9128i9-FdsppRPcassGI/s320/wftwreat.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Three little wire fox terriers made it just right.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span> <br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-57484650858128084052011-03-09T10:43:00.000-08:002011-03-09T11:05:00.745-08:00Wordless Wednesday - That Was Then, This Is Now<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdtmAM3mIVCfudAP35ZxbmDKTJtV59_gvRyeKmJDD7Pl2G2Nwa2W4NbH-xfOrH1NhkOPj1tAOJa524E1cNMt7PtYbbPM30azu_C5gAJizYRZ0PH7spCvvR0ZZpY3Y6nN_DxKyG01wuNM/s1600/100_9836.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582157685258931330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdtmAM3mIVCfudAP35ZxbmDKTJtV59_gvRyeKmJDD7Pl2G2Nwa2W4NbH-xfOrH1NhkOPj1tAOJa524E1cNMt7PtYbbPM30azu_C5gAJizYRZ0PH7spCvvR0ZZpY3Y6nN_DxKyG01wuNM/s320/100_9836.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8YzIHlUuFMvQcYzrqRIQ3QxXMWVtzp0T0NJVXtdviBFHo1fSq9bA_oi-RAs5LVzdD74SprjMO_tKFVphE_qgpnyg81gHrLGGBgYwf2uNbZJQ9XMwMRmx_L3mQjX_ilTdjvqhGSiU-4g/s1600/bundaf.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582156675026001282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8YzIHlUuFMvQcYzrqRIQ3QxXMWVtzp0T0NJVXtdviBFHo1fSq9bA_oi-RAs5LVzdD74SprjMO_tKFVphE_qgpnyg81gHrLGGBgYwf2uNbZJQ9XMwMRmx_L3mQjX_ilTdjvqhGSiU-4g/s320/bundaf.jpg" /></a> ~Tell</div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-69014042697363116682011-03-02T12:04:00.000-08:002011-03-02T13:01:15.914-08:00If I'd Known They Were Coming, I'd Have Baked A Cake<div><div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Things have been running smoothly at our house since The Crackdown. I'm no longer left unsupervised. Took them long enough to learn, huh? Going to work with Mom every day means I'm constantly under someone's eagle-eye. I did plan one jail break but it was thwarted when I dropped on command. Whew, nobody saw that one coming! Even I was shocked. Go figure. So yesterday I was laying around minding my own bees-wax when the office door opened and in walked a kid. And another, and another. Before you knew it, there were 80 little kiddos in our office. Took two big yellow buses to bring them all over from the school on a field trip.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 373px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 314px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579587372586455858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQhyphenhyphen1E8jMwVsricsZxRfNGetPpYjf-GYimdsjqxxwuQg5-JZlES-2utFMyGmnpIUIRlZOTBztpeCY2DdxOYR7ikwx48nFDh_Ph6mFszxMh3YhCaSzUqYxN2EuqzOJsaL_p9249BI-vjE/s320/tel0301b.jpg" /></span><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Now, no one loves little kids more than me. Can't get enough of 'em, but even I was overwhelmed by the size of herd that showed up. I wasn't expecting them, didn't even have time to run a comb through my hair. They didn't seem to mind, though. They thought I was cute. And huggable. I gave them the giggles. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 312px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 374px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579586623737368882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuC7S37JjIs0BmDCj14DbvHnHJwOFrVg1IevTncZBuoQTaXyIT2iLCCp4b_vnRB-1D3GDfYqMYsPVFamn5fUQAduxIl5g8xSB8SGNSbE8t90QEyKfRNu4YwvVyBWfbwxb0iKYjI6edsoI/s320/100_0156.JPG" /></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Get a look-see that this one's hair. Wonder who does his grooming?</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 356px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 291px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579588151519920706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZ1KlXMmtoIAO2k1y05RlHMHJZMR1e0mg6iZEhSLHYnhla2a1Sx0TTq90aGqbTszPzfUgDMb4EMVk8MPs-7_HBi89YxQQLnuuap0q5cJzPho7I29nCLrFZbjNUqt8-hYCgoy08iMjEkI/s320/tel0301c.jpg" /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The little tykes took a tour of the office and then they got to ask questions. One of the office staff told them I was a "medical miracle" because I was a dog without a brain. Mom was not amused by the sarcasm. I'm seeing a demotion in someone's future. After they left, I curled up and had myself a nap. Plum wore me out, but it was heaven while it lasted.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-80252749099686531252011-01-14T12:23:00.000-08:002011-01-14T13:21:32.135-08:00Cap Sleeps Anywhere<div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">I was reading the other day and ran across a poem by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eleanor_Farjeon">Eleanor Farjeon</a>. It was about kitties and how they laze around and sleep all day. I noticed if I squinted my eyes and looked at it just right, I could change a few of the letters around and make a whole new poem out of it, one about my buddy Cap. It goes like this... </span></div><br /><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562150067195985394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3P_dghQvTK1ysTuubcKPOMSD6D81IMhTNx9Utohn4JQR-0Z_UjPiClc0KDwq5pWbi6vJAnj8Ys6CurH6RO5VJYXyPWuhghP-Uw6HWTGo-erSKBJBAw2Gt_rjJX4OPFm0bPfhkAugW4_o/s320/cap0111a.jpg" /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Cap sleeps anywhere, any table, any chair,</em></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge,</em></span></p><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihTiO5zFITQqa9rHlfi2sg2W2KbQb-yOqNciwmEN82FpdJlOvsJ1VBJmATlKHCcQ-5henEzTjGWX_QMuVZp8m2-6177o6u5Q4R09Rh_2uDMK8OwBYgziJIvuAT_CEEKpGC56d8DgjQg9Q/s1600/cap0111c.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 277px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562143220255591970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihTiO5zFITQqa9rHlfi2sg2W2KbQb-yOqNciwmEN82FpdJlOvsJ1VBJmATlKHCcQ-5henEzTjGWX_QMuVZp8m2-6177o6u5Q4R09Rh_2uDMK8OwBYgziJIvuAT_CEEKpGC56d8DgjQg9Q/s320/cap0111c.jpg" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Open drawer, empty shoe, anybody's lap will do,</em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><em></em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks,</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 260px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562148837993262674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6ZErRWm7WvetP-2GLOWLp98S4GJBWpr0TUxI3d7sWcSsJik5KsYHpe6ueRRE3xC0e9MQ8CRC9YvJwkiiFY6F5JwKOVaGpPTG6sLkbDhik1NZUfPpI_b1cjSScF2sW5ZP4spiFGAvCws/s320/000_0010.jpg" /> <span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Anywhere! He doesn't care! Cap sleeps anywhere.</em></span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Yeah, that's ol' Cap exactly. Like she knew him when she wrote that poem. Sometimes we have to hold a mirror under his nose to make sure he's still breathing, he's that quiet to live with. Low maintenance, Mom says. Something I wouldn't know about myself.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell </span></p>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-23681816427037221502011-01-05T12:05:00.000-08:002011-01-05T12:22:22.002-08:00Hippo Birdie to Me<span style="font-size:130%;">Hippo Birdie to Me!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Hippo Birdie to Me!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Hippo Birdie to Meeee-eeee!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Hippo Birdie to Me!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Hi ho, Friends! Today is my Happy Birthday! Yep, nine year ago on this day, Abby Gale whelped a litter of eight beautiful wire fox puppies, one of which was moi. Of course, I was the most out-standing of the litter and found the perfect home with My Boy and his family.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoO-BJLXamaq2ASMozpmhVPh_-_aU7dTkMPvfAZ5NZHAU5NVEXxRivxiO3t-Yh7Cs4DKa8GxIfyKoB6_Q8eYYXxDcVHbMxyc2PHM166OEXZC9NQHAtGdyC4ftDGQV4Bu3TuEnF7X47EM/s1600/tel0105a.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558795972185114642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoO-BJLXamaq2ASMozpmhVPh_-_aU7dTkMPvfAZ5NZHAU5NVEXxRivxiO3t-Yh7Cs4DKa8GxIfyKoB6_Q8eYYXxDcVHbMxyc2PHM166OEXZC9NQHAtGdyC4ftDGQV4Bu3TuEnF7X47EM/s320/tel0105a.jpg" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">Nine years. Whew, h</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ard to believe! It went by in such a flash. Well, My Family says at times it seemed like a hundred and nine years as I'm such an exhasperatin' fellow to live with. Still got the energy of a puppy, though, and always will. Part of my charm. So wherever you are, have a biscuit and celebrate with me!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-27049708135470266112010-12-22T14:47:00.000-08:002010-12-22T15:30:56.573-08:00I Wear XXL Myself<span style="font-size:130%;">Seems like it's been a coon's age since I last blogged. Even though I've been quiet, doesn't mean I've been sitting around doing nothing, though. We've been gearing up for Christmas and the whole family's coming over for dinner. That means a lot of cleaning and cooking and such. It also means helping Mom with her present-making. </span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzggCeMhr7_wALY4FswbBAuNthKqK05lZ4wtcJiiZw4ZyQw-de8QLXIawbeZ9pHCyPzc5pf-H4Yew0crgKp5FQK2su2aTZMqWiCjc7QQbOF-4PY_LAO84KFEcbK86U8aC8B8WukHR75c/s1600/tel1222a.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553645179360594962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzggCeMhr7_wALY4FswbBAuNthKqK05lZ4wtcJiiZw4ZyQw-de8QLXIawbeZ9pHCyPzc5pf-H4Yew0crgKp5FQK2su2aTZMqWiCjc7QQbOF-4PY_LAO84KFEcbK86U8aC8B8WukHR75c/s320/tel1222a.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Here, I'm modeling a Harry Potter scarf that she made for a friend. It's from the House of Gryffindor, whatever that means. Not being a Harry Potter fan myself, I'm a bit fuzzy on all that wizardry stuff, but I'm assured that the colors are what makes the scarf fun to wear.</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioW8OmSecDkxU4KG4hvY-myu6P4wENJ8CLZfEYSsVX2DQtIQ_FBgKl-deXKIbKrHfGJ41-VwFs1W4gCBIu1KFhyphenhyphenwglzf1oyvsHJ4iQ8jgBkUn68JyOSEfN_-fNR2v7pky0Qa72euKx0Do/s1600/gly1222a.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553644583876907490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioW8OmSecDkxU4KG4hvY-myu6P4wENJ8CLZfEYSsVX2DQtIQ_FBgKl-deXKIbKrHfGJ41-VwFs1W4gCBIu1KFhyphenhyphenwglzf1oyvsHJ4iQ8jgBkUn68JyOSEfN_-fNR2v7pky0Qa72euKx0Do/s320/gly1222a.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Next is Glynn wearing the colors of the House of Ravenclaw. Glynn says the colors look good with her tan and blue, but she requires a size Petite so as not to be dwarfed by the accessories and to keep the fringe from dragging on the ground. In other words, she's too short to pull this look off. Hee hee</span></div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvF9R_8V4kRThmb84SuiCp0_NnvepcVN_5mX3IQZ8ZJXO-tC7ihwnvmdkJyFvYSvlDQ4-LdfH4W6LgHagS-dSowmYkFOaLbdiBQn6Kuz3kHERUOKMNHl9VoYfF3J_lCmv_MyaRWFDjOzw/s1600/tel1222b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553643800364173714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvF9R_8V4kRThmb84SuiCp0_NnvepcVN_5mX3IQZ8ZJXO-tC7ihwnvmdkJyFvYSvlDQ4-LdfH4W6LgHagS-dSowmYkFOaLbdiBQn6Kuz3kHERUOKMNHl9VoYfF3J_lCmv_MyaRWFDjOzw/s320/tel1222b.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Until next time, wishing each one of you a Merry Christmas!</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-5997829330897629502010-10-01T09:44:00.000-07:002010-10-01T10:46:49.637-07:00Am I Missing An Eyebrow?<span style="font-size:130%;">I'm happy to report that things have improved somewhat since my last post. Although I still have no memory of my recent Cow Attack / Train Wreck / Sasquatch Mugging, my head injuries are healing nicely and The Family is finally starting to make eye contact with me again. Boy, they were a might displeased, and that's putting it mildly. When your household is so put out that they have whispered family meetings about What To Do Now, you just know it's time to tuck your tail and behave.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523121459262381938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRtJBRTHCEXYqVqwmD4CGeu-d38oMysME8SsMpASOljLiaLyMcS5jWt15mtNj4e_FL0xMcM9oF-mlx-BuF62ITMTLcveez-8bNHt8JYOj8MVQVGznhfMJtbR42Tkl8Q96Y1Be83EI2bM/s320/tel0930b.jpg" />Glynn and I tallied up the different ways they've tried to keep me safe, which included a chainlink fenced yard, the dreaded tutoring, obedience, collar and tags, microchip, chicken wire spread over the ground in my favorite digging spots, then hog panels, a rock fence, cement blocks in my holes, electric fence around the top, triple locks on the gates, getting Cap for a companion, then Glynn, trimming my toenails shorter, a tie-out (that Mom couldn't stand, and I wasn't so keen on either so it didn't last long), more exercise with My Boy and more supervision. When you put it to paper, I've cost a small fortune to maintain. I can do fine for awhile, but when I take a notion to go exploring, ain't nothing gonna hold me back. Mom says I am the most exasperating pup she's ever known, and I've brought her more laughter and also more tears than any other dog she's had. What can I say? It's a gift. In the meantime, I'm sure getting good at walking on a leash. </span><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523128371357482978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWrFY_PDB8KgY9eHWOFfiTvXLEAd8WpAO8wxryYLf5_TeswZz_8Yq2BzDldyeTI9ZTGkvfvPNWr6i2trb9zKnNUd0IxaF6gR0-rF57lLDw7uB1y8tmGL3-qNz9UzAMgj5Q-LjoTXnOmE/s320/ohsjack3.jpg" /><span style="font-size:130%;">On a very positive note, we've been fostering an Airedale this week! This is Jackson, and he's one of the happiest dogs I know. Just look at that smile. Makes a guy feel good to know he's helping out a big lovable fellow like this. Today he will be picked up by Oklahoma Airedale Rescue and they'll be sure to see that he finds the perfect furever home. Also, he's already got a playdate scheduled with his brother, <a href="http://pat-rudysramblings.blogspot.com/">Rudy</a>, who was also rescued! What a happy time those two will have when they see each other again. I probably can't make it this year, guys, but when you have a reunion next year, send me an invite, will ya? I might be on parole by then...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></p>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-41330719498219704212010-09-23T15:42:00.000-07:002010-09-24T14:26:21.096-07:00They Always Said I Was A Knothead<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4Z69CoIy-ikQ6APzLrtORGgAXqf7Celx_YyxzobdU0RYvLbroPzx0lU3t2I8RsQs9SOMHAk7uYphNpbupVEevYfDn8c4rlYDGLyK5qWnpBKtDsZ5zDhp4uqSOYxW9SpJusGi0uYTzc0/s1600/tel0830d.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520243571782678834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4Z69CoIy-ikQ6APzLrtORGgAXqf7Celx_YyxzobdU0RYvLbroPzx0lU3t2I8RsQs9SOMHAk7uYphNpbupVEevYfDn8c4rlYDGLyK5qWnpBKtDsZ5zDhp4uqSOYxW9SpJusGi0uYTzc0/s200/tel0830d.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> Well, folks, I may finally have pushed my luck too far. Not even my charm and dashing good looks can make up for what I pulled yesterday. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">After My Boy left for school, I shinnied under the fence and went on patrol. I spent several hours running around the farm having a grand old time, and then things went south. The details are a little fuzzy still, and I don't remember exactly what happened, but at the end of the day My Boy found me staggering around with a bloody eye, a lump on my head, and a bruised snoot. Felt like I'd been run over by a train. If that wasn't bad enough, <strong><em>I bit My Boy</em></strong> when we got home. What can I say, there was no excuse except I wasn't feeling quite myself. Still, I am in major lockdown and no longer allowed outside without supervision. I also have to go to work with Mom every day as I'm not trusted to behave myself when no one's watching. I say go to work with Mom, but Mom said it in an entirely different way. I think it was along the lines of "drag your sorry carcass to the office with me", or something like that. I am also being monitored on my behavior and being taught some "much-needed manners." Ah, the shame of it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I'm not the biting kind. I've never acted like this before. Must have hit my head harder than I realized to behave in such a way. The vet said I should make a full recovery, no permanent damage done, and the hair will grown back before I know it. In the meantime, I'm doing my humble best to wiggle my way back into everyone's good graces. But hey, I'm a terrier, they have to make some allowances for that, don't they? Comes with the territory.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-39800075538370463502010-09-16T15:38:00.000-07:002010-09-16T16:16:40.945-07:00Ellen Fitzgerald Sang It, Too<span style="font-size:130%;">It seems like fall is right around the corner. The weather has cooled to a tolerable degree, and it's nice to get out and romp a bit with My Boy in the evenings. Went for a romp without him last night. Got in trouble for it. Didn't much care, though, except I'm back on leash now. Cramps my style somewhat.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_vrR73ruNGc1IV33IzCByJNQ9B7lo53l5yaLEuwFe3bMsYnyuHcoIxkABrtWc6EIty4cbz7FFxhOs6AkwLhuKUShThpDzTA7tibAEQ00S1d7RLMo47RErx7cGr_7WBh8lOdBixDHc3U/s1600/teljump.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517647397105922162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_vrR73ruNGc1IV33IzCByJNQ9B7lo53l5yaLEuwFe3bMsYnyuHcoIxkABrtWc6EIty4cbz7FFxhOs6AkwLhuKUShThpDzTA7tibAEQ00S1d7RLMo47RErx7cGr_7WBh8lOdBixDHc3U/s320/teljump.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Sometimes we take in critters other than cats and dogs to foster. Yesterday the Animal Control Officer brought us a young bird. I have a feeling he won't be with us too long. His landing gear works well, but his flappers need a little exercise before he takes off. A couple days of R&R should have him sailing right out the door. The first inkling I had that another bird was in the house was when I heard, "Woo-oo-oo-oo..." What a sad sound. My Boy says that it is called a turtledove, also a mourning dove because they have such a sad song.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlgSWtnEcZ0kU57xnvSsC2rekf1vqjjqjLX8uapcGsXUIEcZ4wW5YPT4HxJvEr7EHzazLLFMcOHvwzGZ1F5XfK9Av9PwazUnTCO1Qr5uReJGw0ZuVPIjIoNHOAE_SfGtwgUo6z143otk/s1600/mourdove.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517645819948570722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlgSWtnEcZ0kU57xnvSsC2rekf1vqjjqjLX8uapcGsXUIEcZ4wW5YPT4HxJvEr7EHzazLLFMcOHvwzGZ1F5XfK9Av9PwazUnTCO1Qr5uReJGw0ZuVPIjIoNHOAE_SfGtwgUo6z143otk/s320/mourdove.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> I wonder if he knows <em>Melancholy Baby</em>? I can hum a few bars to get him started</span>...<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-14314281271308040392010-09-03T15:58:00.000-07:002010-09-03T16:58:48.472-07:00I Try My Hand at Reading Sign<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinLbrwQTjRUatLwnMayNBsZQYpAcc6Tjr48aJjWdc2q4_ztnZ6VFtR4Pk-rHbNSgzKdWWyD1PYYQW6ImWI-K0-D6inZ1Pr0OjsXaZ27LheMWh8Jif_cFRN7U7-HzhyphenhyphenImXIcc9rMtEIeE/s1600/tel0830g.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512836378235842706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinLbrwQTjRUatLwnMayNBsZQYpAcc6Tjr48aJjWdc2q4_ztnZ6VFtR4Pk-rHbNSgzKdWWyD1PYYQW6ImWI-K0-D6inZ1Pr0OjsXaZ27LheMWh8Jif_cFRN7U7-HzhyphenhyphenImXIcc9rMtEIeE/s320/tel0830g.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">Been missing out on my blogging lately, mainly because we've been so busy this summer. Been fostering a few fellow doggies down on their luck. First there was a ginormous Wolf-hybrid named Cherokee. He was a bit aloof, so I didn't get to know him too well while he was here. Honestly, I don't know what Mom was thinking when she took him in. He howled night and day. I was a bit alarmed at how he licked his chops when he looked at me, too. Anyway, he went on to a nice rescue. Then we played host to Ol' Red, the bloodhound. We had a great time together. He taught all of us how to bay. I was pretty impressed at his ability to sling slobbers when he shook his head, too. I tried a few times but I don't have the jowls for that trick. Made myself dizzy trying. Last I saw of Red, he was heading to a rescue in Colorado. Hope he sends us a postcard from the Rockies. And last, we had a graceful old Boxer named Nell. She was quite prim and proper, used the Queen's English and all, but I got her to snort when she laughed. The old gal was quite entertaining when she loosened up.</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8er_0iVrX6AWxpWxII9YKUUoia2s-j6IFney7fkN41dL-eotTDpY-LikFbY0a9Jkdqk2pcj7YMsaPYQOHUWY7lJOp_cjESH_NNWYWu9pnx1e31UdVp_QvKKkj5Gdk6gAsHbPKif_lLJk/s1600/track4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512832581161452626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8er_0iVrX6AWxpWxII9YKUUoia2s-j6IFney7fkN41dL-eotTDpY-LikFbY0a9Jkdqk2pcj7YMsaPYQOHUWY7lJOp_cjESH_NNWYWu9pnx1e31UdVp_QvKKkj5Gdk6gAsHbPKif_lLJk/s320/track4.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">On our daily walks, we ran across a few footprints in the pasture. Being a Louis L'Amour fan (I'm named after a Sackett character, by the way), I like to try my hand at reading tracks. This first one looks like a coyote track. Smelled like one, too.</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLG3F72S89hLD7kGEXozCe3kZ3YHstOb-QCc3xmc6N7kZm3_kanOyvDcZV6CMHqiozV9-QcHjZrd1rd_6ed89CEQB2psNe40Mg-IQjGzQTLtyBkA6gmnzEJRawn03jky3YDqOx2Lu-FRs/s1600/track3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512828447616864786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLG3F72S89hLD7kGEXozCe3kZ3YHstOb-QCc3xmc6N7kZm3_kanOyvDcZV6CMHqiozV9-QcHjZrd1rd_6ed89CEQB2psNe40Mg-IQjGzQTLtyBkA6gmnzEJRawn03jky3YDqOx2Lu-FRs/s320/track3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Dragging me right along, My Boy and I ran across a raccoon track. Almost looks human, doesn't it?</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytsVOsbZ4I5NlwP8Q2bFjCYC3GMjxhfgJJrFNgz3RZ7Yz26tgVY1uyoprl2D1YZWw7BZzUzIw8K-3mKSqxhPqW_OqROaFHSQ30SV4s_s9pl4uf8wER6uoXsFPi8uKFL5-pwBl7-zI-mw/s1600/track1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512827492069123026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytsVOsbZ4I5NlwP8Q2bFjCYC3GMjxhfgJJrFNgz3RZ7Yz26tgVY1uyoprl2D1YZWw7BZzUzIw8K-3mKSqxhPqW_OqROaFHSQ30SV4s_s9pl4uf8wER6uoXsFPi8uKFL5-pwBl7-zI-mw/s320/track1.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">Then there was this track. We puzzled over it for a while, and never did figure it out. I suspect a three-toed Sasquatch was wandering about. That's when we decided to go home and lock the door.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Wishing everyone a happy Labor Day weekend! My Boy will be in the Labor Day Parade on Monday. Maybe he'll let me ride the float and throw some candy, too!</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-45657854137321695462010-08-09T16:39:00.000-07:002010-08-09T16:54:34.956-07:00Say Hello to Rudy!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6XuUnDy-XNIgOJF2nqf9Haq2XVc65jt8igTmnxqz3laAaUdKjcy2NEIstYgJRB1Fw9hymQiM8rHzbpvxusds82aEfhRM3kIFCLkkJkKuK0H_GwYzQi8TxAjKFjU5WNMNSO16KcM1x3g/s220/IMG_2451.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 165px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6XuUnDy-XNIgOJF2nqf9Haq2XVc65jt8igTmnxqz3laAaUdKjcy2NEIstYgJRB1Fw9hymQiM8rHzbpvxusds82aEfhRM3kIFCLkkJkKuK0H_GwYzQi8TxAjKFjU5WNMNSO16KcM1x3g/s220/IMG_2451.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>There's a new Airedale in town! Well, not exactly in town, but still here in Oklahoma. I met <a href="http://pat-rudysramblings.blogspot.com/">Rudy</a> briefly at the vet's office before he was shipped out to Airedale rescue, and wouldn't you know it, we've managed to keep in touch. He's now adopted and settling in to his furever home. Some of you rescued pups know how it is, overcoming new obstacles every day in the beginning, so I'm sure Rudy would appreciate a little encouragement as he figures out how to live indoors with his family. Oh yes, and very important, he shares his home with a wire fox terrier named Molly, and he has A BOY of his very own. Couldn't ask for anything better! Congratulations, Rudy!</div><br /><br /><div>~Tell</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-46648034607108322552010-08-04T13:08:00.000-07:002010-08-04T13:22:37.340-07:00I Should Have Stayed with Old Spice<div><span style="font-size:130%;">I took the day off from my farm duties and went shopping for new cologne. Tried a few samples and settled on one I really like. Came home wearing a bit of <em>eau de cowpoo</em> and thought it made me smell quite manly. My mistake. Let me impart a bit of wisdom to my terrier friends out there -- humans not only have fewer old-factories senses than we canines, but they have a completely different set of old-factories and take major offense at some of the odors we think are interesting. And when Mom wrinkles her muzzle up and say, "Ewww!", you'd better run.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501651519052201250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-_oEWJy60ntr9dOXs53xnjTR5yBo4RX8l0tWdjUNUeuyOzcnXkPAzEzOxhXODBR52qI3Dwu4rEAn6zoOlqJwIoxhnThVwRzwqJAkcK5T2fQP91qGbLAam8FrTvUsB1M8cHNkUkjYZfc/s320/tel0303k.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I wasn't fast enough. Into the bathtub, splish-splash, she 'bout scrubbed my hide off. My whites have never been so white. It was quite an insult, really. I will definitely have to warn My Boy about this.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-41871203424970242552010-06-25T09:09:00.000-07:002010-07-07T12:34:29.262-07:00I Seize The Moment And Almost Kill Myself<span style="font-size:130%;">Summer is at its peak here in Oklahoma. Hotter than blazes, you might say, and it isn't a "dry heat" as some areas have. Nope, very humid here. Not much fun being outside when it makes us huff and puff hard. Much cooler to stay indoors on the tile floor. Boring, but cooler.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzdgT8CtgR1th6lQLagqAlvzcNiSEUO-h20aG4gIDFf0qDkoRKR9v8lPKtBnoX_ldUqD0Yw6wfkSeMFplJ3Jd_D6fMk1ujNn9Ztcbhv6iZpYbqX1GhIi-Vj9R1kgCbeIk_37tKLks1w0/s1600/tellwill.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491243898843485714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzdgT8CtgR1th6lQLagqAlvzcNiSEUO-h20aG4gIDFf0qDkoRKR9v8lPKtBnoX_ldUqD0Yw6wfkSeMFplJ3Jd_D6fMk1ujNn9Ztcbhv6iZpYbqX1GhIi-Vj9R1kgCbeIk_37tKLks1w0/s320/tellwill.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">The other day Mom turned us outside for a break. While Cap and Glynn tended to their own business, I slipped around behind the shed. I had a nice hole going there, out of eyesight of The Family, kind of my own little secret. I shinnied under the fence went exploring. There I was, running like the wind and sniffing all over the place, when suddenly I didn't feel so good. I had overdone it in the summer sun, gave myself a heat stroke. Talk about the phrase "sicker than a dog", well that was me all over. Literally. Just about did myself in before The Family located me and drove me home in the pickup. I was a hurtin' cowboy, believe me. The next day I was so stiff and sore I could barely move around. Took a few more days to get my bounce back. I may have to rethink the summertime escapades. Wasn't hardly worth it that time.</span><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAS3Tj6nD3vKkLeRdGxbTdnT-4G9xCmk_zCUZI1ICZTqMKvb3j0G9Q0gaLxb2Pf7Wj0tAjeM5Kp5g39JDLC_ZQwGnQEaJ-0TXx8IkTdiKrwNcXVWMXkW2VMCCwi_cR92R0pV6tOKvE9I/s1600/100_7585.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486747778679066274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAS3Tj6nD3vKkLeRdGxbTdnT-4G9xCmk_zCUZI1ICZTqMKvb3j0G9Q0gaLxb2Pf7Wj0tAjeM5Kp5g39JDLC_ZQwGnQEaJ-0TXx8IkTdiKrwNcXVWMXkW2VMCCwi_cR92R0pV6tOKvE9I/s320/100_7585.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">On a brighter note, here's what we found early one morning on one of our more sedate (translate boring) walkies. It's a newborn calf, and she wasn't too very much bigger than me and Glynn put together. Mama Cow was snorting in my hip pocket, though, so I couldn't stay and talk long. Don't know what her problem was, I was just looking. I plan to go back and spend a little more time playing later when she gets her land legs under her.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-6131814428921091452010-06-16T12:10:00.000-07:002010-06-16T12:19:40.030-07:00Wordless Wednesday: One of These Things Is Not Like The Others<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrPj37JphT7zdqpbYasdhuQyrGQvStEgeGaSlHZPxFPt07UUiSHUfXuRvcMxz3mjNFXuBwHm6yZUbP8YBjeJnPxHnLVKEtL1eAETxtHa-nSJK02ToGHW1TW6jwloSspzRBM6pZTWXgVE/s1600/wft5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483452496514569714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrPj37JphT7zdqpbYasdhuQyrGQvStEgeGaSlHZPxFPt07UUiSHUfXuRvcMxz3mjNFXuBwHm6yZUbP8YBjeJnPxHnLVKEtL1eAETxtHa-nSJK02ToGHW1TW6jwloSspzRBM6pZTWXgVE/s320/wft5.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-90154133059087306942010-05-19T13:34:00.000-07:002010-05-26T14:33:47.240-07:00Better Than A Rabbit's Foot<span style="font-size:130%;">Out doing a bit of roaming around today, helping My Boy with things he needs help with. He's always needing my supervision. No telling what trouble he'd get into without my guidance. Here he is holding Ruby Tuesday's baby, Giacomo. He's almost as big as My Boy is now! Queen Ruby likes My Boy and doesn't seem to mind. She's a good mama.</span><br /><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39NoC3X9ZiZcfuRSgCleazEAfoKqpZjNAgE1O8PfIY2F3exaGh6OwbFiNDZbusfeF8E35lVixisxA01fsJzKpu_ArqyXkp7sf9Xv9sTKkD0Vd_lQG8DMjaZwVXEmCSBiQOi1N2eyLTD4/s1600/100_6999.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473094405077864034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39NoC3X9ZiZcfuRSgCleazEAfoKqpZjNAgE1O8PfIY2F3exaGh6OwbFiNDZbusfeF8E35lVixisxA01fsJzKpu_ArqyXkp7sf9Xv9sTKkD0Vd_lQG8DMjaZwVXEmCSBiQOi1N2eyLTD4/s320/100_6999.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">While we were checking out the cow and calf, I noticed Glynn had found something very interesting in the grass. I mosied over to see what she was doing, and she told me that she had found a bumper crop of four-leaf clovers and was collecting some to press and keep for good luck. </span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSO19v-wrQNzGVXHmh6aIEeVr-Y4W2XEVJNYstK8dCCx3KfjiiMSOJUCuEvMJ59Um6dw-Mu8XHHcmF5zg536VJqfGYLrNxkdwRtYrZVZ6djCZJiMXUu8n8NEHIwjyTm3MqW5PzExlCevw/s1600/100_7125.JPG"></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473084618152396418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_T5WSQ9l9dJmBiCLQbx4ZnKtQFnpLEqn6Ce0bEAkFPxbpWJzLspAHg7v-E1LGyFRZ5FThkB5H-ZKcSVms3zrhD_bjQeSgeXU30gpOjq61HhDZlyla5hyphenhyphenQJf1ieeNyRyXUstH2q1w3_M/s320/gly0517a.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:130%;">She said it's easy as pie to find a four-leaf clover. Just stare at the clover patch and one would jump right out at me. She had already found several to press, like this one.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475664112913653714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj00UdIYE5jh26c4iypIqKWupvcxUOxvVNTacrwxuTGevIOKbw7sTeJ-2zp6TPCulOeRfw03_Ih8g9kitLKGWUuTvL8BLHsU0_uInJZu8jnqjxHa2JRG71fTJM9FDpxq-GKqkkra3Lni6E/s320/4leafcl.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Never in my whole eight years have I found a four-leaf clover. Not even close. I've never even caught a rabbit's foot, so I was a bit skeptical. Still, I gave it a go, and I stared at that clover patch until my eyes were crossed.</span></div></div><div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43aGRJZLTgA3mULGIdNFQUHVLaJ51WnBM76g3ltFP9YS0le_ZXtuJmHJvi-NKJmeqlhk_ZTHO-FKGr_nuFn1ehztwt2Z9iDwFjnFGL4X9_EZfFdxBzqllwgIRpN3JclUxB2ntBAwnnVY/s1600/tel0517b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473085894398928466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43aGRJZLTgA3mULGIdNFQUHVLaJ51WnBM76g3ltFP9YS0le_ZXtuJmHJvi-NKJmeqlhk_ZTHO-FKGr_nuFn1ehztwt2Z9iDwFjnFGL4X9_EZfFdxBzqllwgIRpN3JclUxB2ntBAwnnVY/s320/tel0517b.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">And then, would you believe, I found one! I was so excited I did a Snoopy dance. Glynn showed me how to press it when we got back to the house. Though it isn't a perfect specimen, I'm proud of it. A dog like me can never have too much good luck!</span><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475690265594657826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFS1Op5ws2W0YhcHkOLhsf9U4PB1bBb3HL38U1gwQ4YcjNcbxsD5NswJ8RKPOdmkFXdlwcThup3FMTa8gzC4XXuZ7H6Mq5k-J3tzcOHzIFvQoF_lByghRNmoyS1nCUkEpdOc8KCqJ2M0/s320/4leaf.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:130%;">Wishing every dog and hammie out there a safe and fun-filled Memorial Day weekend.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-7804941580736061422010-05-17T15:12:00.000-07:002010-05-17T15:33:21.782-07:00I Do A Little Spring Cleaning<span style="font-size:130%;">I learned my lesson about climbing fences quite a while back. As you may remember, My Family tried everything to get me to stay home, but being an adventurer at heart, I couldn't resist levitating over the fence and having a free day now and then. As a last attempt to curtail my wanderings, My Family stretched a tiny little wire along the top of the fence. I laughed. Won't hold me, I thought. That itty bitty thing? Until I stuck my snoot to it. Lost a few brain cells that time, I'm tellin' you. No more giant leaps for me. I dig under the fence now.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5udbtENlM2k7Pjki-8mZ-8JaD7YrbTaAh62SI57c49KRTimREAOV9fMyTlxcHuoE5bs4re6ywllhQysDOluczvBMNCoWJJMM-Y70Xog9nSRRXOQxqPsgjRrig5N-C8JgnLz2c6Momd0/s1600/tel0517a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472366010213300914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5udbtENlM2k7Pjki-8mZ-8JaD7YrbTaAh62SI57c49KRTimREAOV9fMyTlxcHuoE5bs4re6ywllhQysDOluczvBMNCoWJJMM-Y70Xog9nSRRXOQxqPsgjRrig5N-C8JgnLz2c6Momd0/s320/tel0517a.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> So now that I'm on my best behavior as far as boosting myself over the boundary, I decided to help tidy up the yard this spring. Along with digging up some sweetpea and iris plants, I removed part of the hot wire on the fence (don't worry, it's been turned off practically forever now). Just a few more of these insulators to go, and you'll never know this place used to be locked up tighter than Alcatraz.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-65636928537391831012010-05-05T14:15:00.001-07:002010-05-06T10:33:14.187-07:00Cap Gets Abducted by Aliens (Again)<p><span style="font-size:130%;">An update on my ol' buddy, Cap. He went back to the vet Monday, again on Tuesday. Good news is that his knee is fine (I never did believe that story about an old football injury when he was a linebacker for the Cowboys). The x-rays showed "significant" arthur-itis in his hips and knees, but no other problems. Just a good wrenching of the joints when he flipped on the tile. Getting too old for such nonesense, he told me. Must have been a senile moment that made him act like a spring pup. He's very embarrassed. </span></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCiEpGe9dGJAcTr9SFAXS2uSkE80ev-9zD5uFzql7qXHgOlPzAnFZq-dFMPKgkM9Bcn8Xl6ZmXD_CgEdKu_0S2Q7IF5XDiA7-sEmgwJSfJQT2gEKRzaCE311WuRVx5n170g-KBYf8HB8/s1600/cap0505d.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467899757155677778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCiEpGe9dGJAcTr9SFAXS2uSkE80ev-9zD5uFzql7qXHgOlPzAnFZq-dFMPKgkM9Bcn8Xl6ZmXD_CgEdKu_0S2Q7IF5XDiA7-sEmgwJSfJQT2gEKRzaCE311WuRVx5n170g-KBYf8HB8/s320/cap0505d.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">Since they did have to knock him out for the procedures, which Cap likens to being abducted by aliens, the vet took advantage of it and gave him another dental cleaning, too. Lost a couple more toofers. He came home a bit tipsy, staggered around until he found his favorite toy, and fell asleep with drool running out of his mouth. Kinda like usual. </span></div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467900542992904722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwR8Qp9zX8ueo2XpNBwjzUdtKqKiscDXiWlJtPPa_DnMXqAtsziSXWUeFgXKYpqg9ZiaATyklcihkYuOKQpZyOMySz580Y-gtcoKZjTibR0YORcyiCZOtn5Qyl2P_jbkYGgVguwdEHnWI/s320/cap0505b.jpg" border="0" /> <span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">We are now feeding him a special diet that is good for arthritis and joint pain. Cap seems to like it pretty good and snarfs it down quick, so he doesn't even know he's getting a pill in there somewhere. I sniffed it but wasn't impressed. The main ingredient is chopped liver. I'm more of a chicken man myself.</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuoNZhHc6C3a0nlMRGidlfB4My4Away8KywHzZlNAFhrsPRYToiJUGUqxsbp5c0biVrxoS7ImNIikjcfdV60-wQqSC4YGkTg6Wl6UakPFDGBKVmLIpLAQecoZ-3x495U0k4LwEmlhzsI/s1600/cap0505c.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467898747659351570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuoNZhHc6C3a0nlMRGidlfB4My4Away8KywHzZlNAFhrsPRYToiJUGUqxsbp5c0biVrxoS7ImNIikjcfdV60-wQqSC4YGkTg6Wl6UakPFDGBKVmLIpLAQecoZ-3x495U0k4LwEmlhzsI/s320/cap0505c.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I told Cap that next time he feels inspired to do bodily damage to himself, come to me. I can be pretty smart at doctoring things up. Comes from living on a farm. We make due with what's handy. Give me a little duct tape, some baling wire, I can splint a hindleg in no time. Spritz some WD-40 on those creaky joints, they'll limber right up. Yeah, I know, pretty impressive. I should have went to med school. I'd be a gazillionaire by now.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-44077089763808692352010-05-01T12:39:00.000-07:002010-05-01T13:47:40.454-07:00Cap Takes a Wrong Turn<span style="font-size:130%;">I don't know what got into Cap yesterday. He's older 'n dirt, almost blind, purt-near deaf, but once in a while he gets inspired to act like a puppy, and that almost always leads to trouble. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466390354168818098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiagA7nYVqwud9RF8qqY8-27TFZq-bd5B_z7zBwVx3VACrUV-XzLah18bVE0JATNMI2j_2zjomGBWJvhE7dabW17Tf-KPsNKGRUWtiopXIizwPA1JF6NoFWAOFrPYoZxKmmty-CYtSEA/s320/cap0501a.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Mom had let him outside for a bit, then opened the door and called him in. Suddenly he burst through the door, bouncing like a bunny, and tried to spin around. He went one way, his feet went the other, and splat! It was a pretty spectacular wipe-out, and not the first time he's flipped on the floor. He hopped right up, but this was different. He started hobbling around on three legs and wouldn't put his back foot on the floor at all.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalhgnFxUSz30ny9AgZ-uGNGKfMHrKhAshPA1POOivbcq03n9BffdikNpRuDPwQ6SUs_Xtc6ZyvKWfwrVD4ZiAkBna0nPzjqPxv_JEF0G0XYKyXlke8gUW92vReXbCiFimwuJnrxq0QJM/s1600/cap0501d.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466391378051036354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalhgnFxUSz30ny9AgZ-uGNGKfMHrKhAshPA1POOivbcq03n9BffdikNpRuDPwQ6SUs_Xtc6ZyvKWfwrVD4ZiAkBna0nPzjqPxv_JEF0G0XYKyXlke8gUW92vReXbCiFimwuJnrxq0QJM/s320/cap0501d.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">This meant a quick trip to our favorite vet. Now, I have to tell you, Cap's a funny terrier. Biggest wuss there ever was. He has no pain tolerance at all. None. Zilch. He stubbs his toe and cries like a baby. So it was rather strange that the vet couldn't find anything wrong. All the twisting and flexing, poking and prodding produced not one flinch or whimper out of the old boy. Still, he won't use his leg. It's a mystery. Then he got a shot, which did make him yelp, and some pain pills to get him through the weekend. We all felt like it was just a bruise. My Boy gave him a Zanies toy, which Cap is busy de-squeaking. With his lack of teeth, it will probably be a week from next Tuesday before he finishes it off.</span><br /><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinUl9Ac-_X7U6mTcewtzDyOitjbtqkbP48V-khTW-NbAEcOBElNuvGfI4OXtQsUHK1IXlKBAOw52EQUOUZYWqx5LEAsEK9XmNBNA9FvOOpar4DTWihXeIQtdSD9Ipk1YAz-1TL3o9-aQY/s1600/cap0501c.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466389610805392802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinUl9Ac-_X7U6mTcewtzDyOitjbtqkbP48V-khTW-NbAEcOBElNuvGfI4OXtQsUHK1IXlKBAOw52EQUOUZYWqx5LEAsEK9XmNBNA9FvOOpar4DTWihXeIQtdSD9Ipk1YAz-1TL3o9-aQY/s320/cap0501c.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">Meanwhile, we're watching him through the weekend to see if he gets any better. If he's not trotting on all fours again by Monday morning, we're heading back for some x-rays. The vet said he may have ruptured a ligament (like football players do), and to check him for that he will have to be sedated. With his age, Mom does not want to do that to Cap if we can help it. So we're all keeping our paws crossed that Cap gets better on his own and doesn't have to have any risky things done to him on Monday. Until then, he's being waited on like royalty. Lucky dog.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-6218119232540149412010-04-20T15:20:00.000-07:002010-04-21T13:44:13.346-07:00I'm Calling Shotgun Now<span style="font-size:130%;">If there's one thing I've learned about living on a farm, it's that springtime means babies. Already we have played foster mama to a fledgling barred owl and four cottontail rabbits. And that owl sure made me nervous, the way he was watching those buns, so we made sure nobody went hungry until they were released (far apart from each other, I made sure of that). But the biggest surprise of all was when My Boy's show heifer, Ruby Tuesday, had her baby last week. Lookee here!</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2WWaEYTvYuFGxH8iIkOTGEvQ2IfBSrGRrTK0I0CoYxDP8ltYHENWDsBcgwNlU2Y6dprCpGbQ8248xJXs6qVJzL7lE0FHkMWcohNzVAP3zfuga1G62x6FxxTYDPwG2OE2O1BrG7dIWhE/s1600/rud0412a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462351566698627282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2WWaEYTvYuFGxH8iIkOTGEvQ2IfBSrGRrTK0I0CoYxDP8ltYHENWDsBcgwNlU2Y6dprCpGbQ8248xJXs6qVJzL7lE0FHkMWcohNzVAP3zfuga1G62x6FxxTYDPwG2OE2O1BrG7dIWhE/s320/rud0412a.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">I'm a bit jealous that he has more spots than me. He even has a heart on his forehead. So far we can't decide on a name for him, but it has to be a special one because he will be My Boy's show calf next year. Isn't he a lucky one? We think so.</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZSEnrEcMJ-yplD6sFuaB4_CQedeiR5V2ouVDxn8bhHCXGeDGqsFB-mvuM_DbAdQVLRcQh-FaGzDjo3O2todVsZ-bFz1_I8HhLPnc7p8UY397lWnZp0Zto2w7pMWLSMWPIhs1DY58USE/s1600/rud0412b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462349945940793090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZSEnrEcMJ-yplD6sFuaB4_CQedeiR5V2ouVDxn8bhHCXGeDGqsFB-mvuM_DbAdQVLRcQh-FaGzDjo3O2todVsZ-bFz1_I8HhLPnc7p8UY397lWnZp0Zto2w7pMWLSMWPIhs1DY58USE/s320/rud0412b.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">My new best bud weighs four times as much as me and is growing bigger every day. I have to watch where he steps so he doesn't mash my head in the ground. My Boy is teaching him to lead right now while he's small enough to handle. I just hope that when we all ride in the pickup, he knows I like to sit by the window.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-63030470831272189522010-04-07T14:38:00.000-07:002010-04-07T15:30:34.005-07:00I Visit The Big Bucket In The Sky<span style="font-size:130%;">I was sitting around the house, minding my own business, when I overheard Mom and My Boy talking about what to fix for supper. My Boy said, "Let's go to KFC and pick up a bucket of fried chicken."</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457515477257115170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 289px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_bW4vaa02NNBRRwMns91b86yTpArwFK1XoY2BrYS6M4-ydvnkQTDzail-hd9oJGJ_6jBPK_oqOspgJC8lBeIAP1i1X5T0Rm0t1GjMOteTaAzs6XDU-ufvWM92S-dNg5sH6W83oWM92-A/s320/tel0303c.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Of course, I got excited about that. We live in the country, out in the boonies, so going to KFC means a RIDE in the truck! I couldn't wait to get my leash on and hit the road.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457514639105884434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 281px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoasSntKKWkmuNIvxlwmBknGjEBT-QOvixwjdTyx03-42Wg6w_QoIUIt442Bairy0Hcb-Sxl4fEtR-JaEwwCAqBL3CzasbGFFEV5JkRsXIvdnzm4Ny836kp6raQWkxPGFCRf0KfkJn35I/s320/100_5987.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I said, "Hey, Glynn, wanna come with?" She ho-hummed a bit and then got her leash on, too. She doesn't live for riding in the truck like I do.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457519372653035730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVc4sj3K2Yo-6vc1qhW2aUiwniAPUUs5-okK9Xtd26Uj1iDhabnLalevJ9m4pnAAzmcrV2nLz8oL5GPl2Ru_yurRQ8_SzftnmJdvUxm7uBjy8QzZbCtLG65B8nqmM2JO8iGbuF8_ZSSw/s320/tel0303j.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">This is her "riding in the truck" face. Still, she'd rather load up and go with me than stay home and watch Cap snore.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457520158334645794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 292px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9oPDSf4lGdfJZ_XrTvXpDRjAQx_dcnTykgHZ6S_wiMe_pT9lvCtCK4IF_tHmR0kbHyr_y0q82Ae4rEQluMosBhHe8grQ9YunZpaWupif-e2ecpPY9TgEWsuhJ0roZqc9yFUuNE_o1rQ/s320/gly0303b.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I like visiting the drive-through of any restaurant, but KFC smells so good! Believe me, I'd drive myself there every day if I could reach the gas pedal. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3JZHxE9N7ZBbkLV-e8PL2M8oUC2t1714_EyEnIFbWYEKFrskLYVI9ASLgNjhMOEsMmjIcmm5Yusm18du9WCnhwi6MDrwJfY2w3oVak__N_4wL9-54I13s_S9O3-VdhtNKXIsIS19Ou8/s1600/tel0303e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457521055025034690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3JZHxE9N7ZBbkLV-e8PL2M8oUC2t1714_EyEnIFbWYEKFrskLYVI9ASLgNjhMOEsMmjIcmm5Yusm18du9WCnhwi6MDrwJfY2w3oVak__N_4wL9-54I13s_S9O3-VdhtNKXIsIS19Ou8/s320/tel0303e.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">Unfortunately, I don't get to actually <em>eat</em> any of the fried chicken because I have severe allergies and chicken is high on the list of things that make me itch (I get reminded of this each time I pluck one). However, I can eat turkey. If I could just talk Col. Sanders into starting a Kentucky Fried Turkey franchise, I'd be their best customer ever!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807149144236152983.post-18040171317936291382010-03-26T10:38:00.000-07:002010-03-27T11:02:19.921-07:00I Dig The Mother of All Holes<span style="font-size:130%;">It's been a busy week, gang. Lots of work to do, excavating and moving dirt. I have to say my schedule is about as full as it's ever been. Good thing I like my job, because there's just no end to the holes that need to be dug around here. I dig so much, sometimes I forget where I put a hole. That happened the other morning when I was bunny-hopping backwards in front of My Boy and did a one-legger down a deep one. Lost my balance and ended up-side down for a moment. Made My Boy laugh...a lot longer than I thought was necessary, but who cares? We like to have fun together.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3aNfk9-JsLl7Tynv-m7Z2KA58csfhWOY6oC03INgKQ_45vSyi1vs7IOVHO7FCOmCLqqtCQNRFGKsE4VvDvb7VQktu8m_WHUs04WRnXN4JRN9rq8P5QWN1IOiDJdBy7faC8iWpQER9x4/s1600/tel0326c.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453003657108688402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3aNfk9-JsLl7Tynv-m7Z2KA58csfhWOY6oC03INgKQ_45vSyi1vs7IOVHO7FCOmCLqqtCQNRFGKsE4VvDvb7VQktu8m_WHUs04WRnXN4JRN9rq8P5QWN1IOiDJdBy7faC8iWpQER9x4/s320/tel0326c.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> Now, remember the rock wall that Somebody built awhile back? The one that tee-totally ruined a perfectly good hole I was working on? Yeah, that's right, the one with the water garden and sweetpea flowers? That sure did set me back, but I jumped in there this week and finished what I started, rocks and all. Yep, I caved in that rock wall and dug all around it, uprooted the flowers, and may have bowed the fence just a bit, too.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> I was mighty proud of the destruction, because those old fireplace rocks weigh more than I do.</span><br /><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFm-9HUH3i9Khxr1xrjJ1BrRlHTVgXELLO5KZoRgdCinQqe3gBR-pNqc1I7jLityzlbW2MiLi6xep8nE6bRYx239foHTGE5-I-kwaYaEIrLECCFqSWZgvZFZR7dlnrS5CnhW8f7UavO_U/s1600/tel0326b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453002070468476610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFm-9HUH3i9Khxr1xrjJ1BrRlHTVgXELLO5KZoRgdCinQqe3gBR-pNqc1I7jLityzlbW2MiLi6xep8nE6bRYx239foHTGE5-I-kwaYaEIrLECCFqSWZgvZFZR7dlnrS5CnhW8f7UavO_U/s320/tel0326b.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Glynn is always sure to stand back when the dirt goes flinging. She says a hard hat messes up her 'do too much, so she stays in the safety zone whilst I work.</span></div><div> </div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452998966771445314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8adm-Hf-jB3o8Nknkpxi6Z-Lqf4pp_CevgcuT6U45RsuM8Z3le-5AIJoLjO_-lFqIW35ZDiJUJksjsKgsyYAIbs54S2NjMTcno77qB4QUhcII79B7a6YNQIy0hRCimixRPq_uvuZ8b4/s320/gly0326a.jpg" border="0" /> <span style="font-size:130%;">This one is even big enough to go down into, turn around, and come back out again. Quite a masterpiece.</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4S3UuVEB24nOHOIyq6BUs3pEzBfeV1Ehp5qFSJkZO10hIi5R0xzHFJ8c49w4mYzZ5J1L6bR9t7hrj-M7MoRLTpepVoYbHkFJDWsyUtLTCnyfOzppZbD7fGUxhyugdFLKyeRxKtwWsnNg/s1600/tel0326a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453000470922777650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4S3UuVEB24nOHOIyq6BUs3pEzBfeV1Ehp5qFSJkZO10hIi5R0xzHFJ8c49w4mYzZ5J1L6bR9t7hrj-M7MoRLTpepVoYbHkFJDWsyUtLTCnyfOzppZbD7fGUxhyugdFLKyeRxKtwWsnNg/s320/tel0326a.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">My Boy was pretty speechless, I tell ya, when he saw how much I had accomplished in just one week. Took his breath away, I'm thinkin'. Shook his head in awe. What can I say? I'm pretty pleased myself. Well, enough about holes for now. I see My Boy heading this way with a shovel and wheelbarrow. I wonder what new game this will be? Can't wait to find out...</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">~Tell</span></div></div>William Tellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11062873042653968310noreply@blogger.com7