tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19540111430078985212024-03-13T00:43:00.442-07:00Sassy's Patterdale Terrier Friend Charlie SueDedicated To All Those <a href="http://cabra.org">Who Rescue Pets And Find Homes For Them:</a><br>
<p>
"All creatures great and small, <br>
The Lord God loves them all."
</p><p>
<a href="http://www.newhopecattledogs.com">New Hope Cattle Dog Rescue</a></p>
<a href="http://azsheltierescue.com">Sheltie Rescue</a>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-20122673895291363542024-03-06T07:37:00.000-08:002024-03-06T07:37:49.716-08:00Two Smiles<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflajkVuFUu1f6UAICsSSVoE4oCoV1jtjuAEKfJ8oUKqaslVCUF4wI1o2AIPIBEZNYqWCxUq1DUg8h8q3fC5MuxR4mhGXtb9zmp_hJoGGUztamIzPjtI3-hDTsgp_gP19oIsxUJTO-ZS0666eSx6R1CyJOKICk9XTd7xIeY8AptbB-h678Ko_qXA_1hc6P/s860/Charlie-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="860" height="612" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflajkVuFUu1f6UAICsSSVoE4oCoV1jtjuAEKfJ8oUKqaslVCUF4wI1o2AIPIBEZNYqWCxUq1DUg8h8q3fC5MuxR4mhGXtb9zmp_hJoGGUztamIzPjtI3-hDTsgp_gP19oIsxUJTO-ZS0666eSx6R1CyJOKICk9XTd7xIeY8AptbB-h678Ko_qXA_1hc6P/w640-h612/Charlie-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Charlie Sue is the leader for four areas:</p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Our backyard for digging, chasing animals, coaching her dog friends in races.</li><li>Doggie Daycare for visitors coming and going to the northside fence.</li><li>The trampoline inside the southside fence, guarded by Porchie and Dustmop, her boyfriends.</li><li>The pug on the northside and canine visitors along the grass alley.</li></ol><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>My Ball :)</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I bought an overpriced ball for Charlie but she was openly disgusted with it. Noise came out of it, and it was too hard and big for her to handle. I wanted to give it to Porchie and Dustmop, but only if an older person knew. The time came and I rolled the burping ball into their yard. </div><div><br /></div><div>Later that day, one of the little ones on the trampoline were jumping up and down on the trampoline. A little girl with lots of curly hair held onto the ball, grinned, and said, "My ball."</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Postal Smile</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3d3H4j3PI7Xlj44u-WOy401nXUjUsbitieln9l9Im8rDs9T7Vq6OQ2lS4bCdFvDccfxOoor68EVc1-97__F4xPxXJ6fASpp58vWyauLMoe9AWJysjy5qvDTmmgG7yD-uxM0NLy0Xz7zXvmETfjdcLvJpP4Dw3wG8x0Urp8Btn-w2E-31pjRn1ZIYDtGtG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="514" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3d3H4j3PI7Xlj44u-WOy401nXUjUsbitieln9l9Im8rDs9T7Vq6OQ2lS4bCdFvDccfxOoor68EVc1-97__F4xPxXJ6fASpp58vWyauLMoe9AWJysjy5qvDTmmgG7yD-uxM0NLy0Xz7zXvmETfjdcLvJpP4Dw3wG8x0Urp8Btn-w2E-31pjRn1ZIYDtGtG=w353-h400" width="353" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> The Lutheran Hymnal, 1941</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I needed to go to the post office to send off a box to Canada. The paperwork is equal to the IRS, without the refund. I waited in line for my paperwork, filled it out, and went to a second line. The postal worker was new to me but clearly a veteran. I waited while he filled out everything quickly. He inhaled sharply when the cost came up. I said, "Two of the books are hard to find in good shape and triple this price."</div><div><br /></div><div>He was intrigued. "How did you get those books?" He smiled at the thought of sending them away.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I said, "They are hymnals. I got them from my house because I am a pastor."<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>He went from a small grin to a big one, "That is wonderful. That really makes my day. I am so glad we got to talk."</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75vpBc2F6l7kDNRL_DhH5lkW4KPhSPgcx7lATh1bYyBXl-ELm4fGJiHB9BXqEiaUGiMypA_LnCtsEJhIzFuTcIft9dCAnhLks4K_Qk290lxdEX6PCw9F5Hzl1lE_q_OogOhhaCv8QZxzDzILE_6izjhBq8xkNCmdRrb-6uYFnsAJELp1jFklXHXqXCB_H/s1066/Porchi1%20Small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="860" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75vpBc2F6l7kDNRL_DhH5lkW4KPhSPgcx7lATh1bYyBXl-ELm4fGJiHB9BXqEiaUGiMypA_LnCtsEJhIzFuTcIft9dCAnhLks4K_Qk290lxdEX6PCw9F5Hzl1lE_q_OogOhhaCv8QZxzDzILE_6izjhBq8xkNCmdRrb-6uYFnsAJELp1jFklXHXqXCB_H/w516-h640/Porchi1%20Small.jpg" width="516" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <b><span style="font-size: medium;">Porchi goes eye to eye with me for hugs and finger combing his beautiful fur; Dustmop gently attacks my fingers, jumping up if I reach over.</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><p></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-77793377516702732182024-02-10T10:33:00.000-08:002024-02-15T07:36:58.019-08:00Charlie Sue Time<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgR8mFMCRgrjCkD3EV8_ZEv9td_FPJmMJuT1SU89beHQ2RrjEqo-avQ-QaXI_wsUO69BphfEXu10YtNbbGwUR_tBoh3r_BxI0GAsxRLrFQCcMwmIbt-LVlVP3enjATSCC3umssjh1sncd8pjtPkXhtRfcU_RNdMvIacoKgHEj-QVyuyIL5NDtdJa97REI/s1200/Charlie-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="879" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgR8mFMCRgrjCkD3EV8_ZEv9td_FPJmMJuT1SU89beHQ2RrjEqo-avQ-QaXI_wsUO69BphfEXu10YtNbbGwUR_tBoh3r_BxI0GAsxRLrFQCcMwmIbt-LVlVP3enjATSCC3umssjh1sncd8pjtPkXhtRfcU_RNdMvIacoKgHEj-QVyuyIL5NDtdJa97REI/w468-h640/Charlie-2.jpg" width="468" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie Sue is a Patterdale Terrier</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>A member wanted more Charlie stories.</p><p>Every day is fun with the prankster Charlie Sue. Her breed is sociable and that hardly begins to describe her. She is friends on the south fence, the north fence, and the west fence in the backyard. She loves them all and enjoys teaching them to race along the fence. She never barks indoors but she cheers the dogs on whenever they get lax.</p><p>Porchi and Dustmop are shaggy white dogs. One is huge and the other is half the modest size of Charlie. If I go out with the squeaker toys, they race with Dustmop and Charlie barking away. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQfi17xz3cZhr_lTW1xjVd9NiSmRktUCiVxujZ06hX5zMDXdgT7ve3XAv2sw0uFllXNIoWu1mPfLv0YJVBHwYM3KSmz-r2Ue4hJ2fQR0S1Z4ipKdEUAXGYmHMyow8jKWyuvLneOwRa68YG6mGOfZn-rs-qbd-L5RcH9RrvYxjZctjS4A_I7tp4UeI7T4S/s1066/Porchi1%20Small.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="860" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQfi17xz3cZhr_lTW1xjVd9NiSmRktUCiVxujZ06hX5zMDXdgT7ve3XAv2sw0uFllXNIoWu1mPfLv0YJVBHwYM3KSmz-r2Ue4hJ2fQR0S1Z4ipKdEUAXGYmHMyow8jKWyuvLneOwRa68YG6mGOfZn-rs-qbd-L5RcH9RrvYxjZctjS4A_I7tp4UeI7T4S/w516-h640/Porchi1%20Small.jpg" width="516" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can Charlie come over and play? And how about a thorough finger combing from her staff?<br />He turns around so both sides are thoroughly combed by my fingers. Fur flies.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>We are getting more 60 to 70 degree days, so Charlie stays out most of the day, often digging holes (a Patterdale skill) and always staying along the fences with various dogs. </p><p>Inside she is just as lovable, but always quiet. She does not bark for food, but twirls, which is always funny. To go out, if she is on her bed (which I lease from her), she twirls, jumps down, twirls, jumps up, twirls, just to show her joy and make sure she is going out. In the kitchen, going out is signaled by a wagging tale, especially when she hears the chatter and woofs of her favorite male friends.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPijvcfFgorKoDY7pGQNN5pYZ9RKY0I_JO8ElJiQ64BA6gkDiA_Y_DLzuVCD9AJSXMolJeGpRIEId9O0HmCG_itjnm6ufenRCmMRX3TGrYk_fDPiMEnG2XkkzTV5OE7pdVnwB31WBYY0xPqbxx4z9pUzGGaouV4nituZEHTyVNXTV3BGvLrHPN9rx1-2F/s860/Dustmop-smaller.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="860" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPijvcfFgorKoDY7pGQNN5pYZ9RKY0I_JO8ElJiQ64BA6gkDiA_Y_DLzuVCD9AJSXMolJeGpRIEId9O0HmCG_itjnm6ufenRCmMRX3TGrYk_fDPiMEnG2XkkzTV5OE7pdVnwB31WBYY0xPqbxx4z9pUzGGaouV4nituZEHTyVNXTV3BGvLrHPN9rx1-2F/s320/Dustmop-smaller.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Charlie, Dustmop, and Porchie worked together to create a tunnel under the fence. <span style="text-align: center;">Dustmop crawled under both ways and my helper quickly put down a lot of chicken wire. Even then, Charlie tried to go under the wire, so more obstacles were place on the wire. Ever have a big bucket of useless rocks? I did and they now rest over one wire roofed tunnel.</span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><p>If the Doggie Day Car residents dare to challenge her, Charlie rushes over to sass them one and all. Sometimes that gets them so noisy that they are called into their quarters. However, the chief of staff has learned that all the yakking is part of racing the fence, Charlie teaching and coaching and yipping. I have even seen Charlie walk away when a DDC dog begs to run along the fence with her.</p><p>Charlie is the ultimate cuddler. She loves to hear what a special dog she is and how much her friends love her. She must store up her kisses by the 50s, because she never wants to stop. Charlie makes it clear how she wants petting and where she wants to lie on her bed. I made a square of MyPillows and covered them with a sturdy blanket, more of a square donut with an indentation in the middle.</p><p>We watch documentaries together and she rests her chin on my shoulder. Right now we are on the series <i>Tea, One Cup, A Thousand Stories</i>.</p><p>If I am immersed on the computer, she rests her chin on my knee. That can be a request for a treat or a trip outside. She is more likely to go outside in the dark if her boyfriends are making some noise. A "woof woof" is a clarion call for her. Above the low "woof" I often hear the chatter of Dustmop. They may be greeting human guests, but Charlie just has to see them one more time.</p><p>We have a lot of fun tossing her squawking plastic balls - about six of them. She will bring one back full speed and then will veer away to hide it. She often carries one to do a full circle, Indianapolis 500 style race with a big grin on her face. If I reach out to catch her, she runs even faster. </p><p>I noticed her stash of multiple toys in one place or another. The DDC dogs often have a pile of colored toys on the other side of Charlie's fence stash. Charlie picked the worst and most thorny rose she could find as her little safe.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBMu07gjjiIHroYaGkkh8X6xzLUd_g39eqO-YVL5zNf3nKnZ4syGjOsfauvGYcs-MVklwd_vORP_VTg6H9Sh8NkwIZyyQ_yAj190wzbINghMJVVyakZVs0sU9HgBx7-rZpKZMUzty1B9m99mIgxG7YceqSEQYqIymSFoIQ_cCiM5bgJV0hmOPaudyetbd/s861/Charlie-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="860" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBMu07gjjiIHroYaGkkh8X6xzLUd_g39eqO-YVL5zNf3nKnZ4syGjOsfauvGYcs-MVklwd_vORP_VTg6H9Sh8NkwIZyyQ_yAj190wzbINghMJVVyakZVs0sU9HgBx7-rZpKZMUzty1B9m99mIgxG7YceqSEQYqIymSFoIQ_cCiM5bgJV0hmOPaudyetbd/w640-h640/Charlie-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-83154501865092541992024-01-17T02:25:00.000-08:002024-01-17T02:25:18.503-08:00Charlie Sue's Playtime in the Snow<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6m9DJdT9zwgrNxpkuc5uXxSSnZGKXafvTCZ_RVUknUo2So4gvkFbhS21QaIP3ENny9yUKKzOnYyf4AxZ088eTd7vP08JTQqg_t2cMKs6GXy1o3MGB4jzpir1lBv8swDiQhhbGWzsXr_oyFAp9jBqrG7lG_3ujFdVVFo3FZfIBSc5nVk6b0j2WG9mNg8eG/s861/Charlie-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="860" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6m9DJdT9zwgrNxpkuc5uXxSSnZGKXafvTCZ_RVUknUo2So4gvkFbhS21QaIP3ENny9yUKKzOnYyf4AxZ088eTd7vP08JTQqg_t2cMKs6GXy1o3MGB4jzpir1lBv8swDiQhhbGWzsXr_oyFAp9jBqrG7lG_3ujFdVVFo3FZfIBSc5nVk6b0j2WG9mNg8eG/w640-h640/Charlie-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Charlie Sue loves the backyard, not only the space for racing and chasing balls, but also visiting her dog friends along the South, West, and North fences. <p></p><p>I went out with her twice to have some fun. She also had a third romp much later.</p><p>She loves to race full speed toward me and change course instantly. She also runs on her back legs for a short distance, no doubt to find prey. She loved the snow fell asleep after each adventure.</p><p>All the dogs stayed inside.</p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-71638447919458217862023-11-28T07:41:00.000-08:002023-11-28T13:42:27.848-08:00Our Over-the-Fence Greeter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-4Dape6_YjtLGUb74UfbF31QdbyRbsmVXTBeDS6iHG6-B-y23AEcK0weiQC12Z7Bu9cELVQ7k3SWkOE7ReCsWKNkSN7AJYj22G_KpHlW8EerfsOdNahLsxc_xY8YyDlXXY5FOYi_99eDquJjtKnzU4uVW9oQqYCDcRTtenfRzmaUU8kohtq8ibgzzLWhd" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="542" height="607" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-4Dape6_YjtLGUb74UfbF31QdbyRbsmVXTBeDS6iHG6-B-y23AEcK0weiQC12Z7Bu9cELVQ7k3SWkOE7ReCsWKNkSN7AJYj22G_KpHlW8EerfsOdNahLsxc_xY8YyDlXXY5FOYi_99eDquJjtKnzU4uVW9oQqYCDcRTtenfRzmaUU8kohtq8ibgzzLWhd=w640-h607" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Charlie Sue trained our fence guard in chasing up and down the fence line. He is a Great Pyrenees, known for their ability to protect the flock. He is gentle, high speed racer. Once Charlie got him going, he circled the trees, sheds, and the whole yard. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I saw his eyes light up when I first told him about his attributes. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">When I go outside, he stands up at the fence for a conversation about how gentle, kind, and handsome he is. He loves to have his thick white fur finger-combed, so I drag my fingers on one side, only to have him face the other way for a thorough combing of his other side. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy Sue loved finger-combing too and really hated various brushes.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-73291857252662879932023-11-26T14:52:00.000-08:002023-11-26T14:52:34.098-08:00Charlie Sue and Friends<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZmm8jetsvIVKpXwni_qRlyMQ-kuMqGak9gm89oTK4LyNXozH7XvH8T4t8VdSt67wvaKJ9YUIpy1egkE0NmTPZemdIm1tcwrCtMlO2QGL39CzSALKt_fwpLuZF1ibSKMpFSpr2lqwZt57nKsVXYcNtT-ChcxUxDpkdGkJ30joEfU-CVO9C8X5M21P1hRxe" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZmm8jetsvIVKpXwni_qRlyMQ-kuMqGak9gm89oTK4LyNXozH7XvH8T4t8VdSt67wvaKJ9YUIpy1egkE0NmTPZemdIm1tcwrCtMlO2QGL39CzSALKt_fwpLuZF1ibSKMpFSpr2lqwZt57nKsVXYcNtT-ChcxUxDpkdGkJ30joEfU-CVO9C8X5M21P1hRxe=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiziQNmKlOd09WRfyYysIVPXbC0k2Hm_8F2wYz-pnMPf-5O0sc_hCMxRh0sjfFXi2DbiTKttGXM8aUO0VNVLDO4CjIlchYyh3nhhsD3nLBnEG13cuHpuGs7woX_q1MS25t2bDxI5fMVdYouT4KoS5wln_bxrLpZ3k5RTUpVeixp9T-xXyIg0O2g2afdtF_l" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiziQNmKlOd09WRfyYysIVPXbC0k2Hm_8F2wYz-pnMPf-5O0sc_hCMxRh0sjfFXi2DbiTKttGXM8aUO0VNVLDO4CjIlchYyh3nhhsD3nLBnEG13cuHpuGs7woX_q1MS25t2bDxI5fMVdYouT4KoS5wln_bxrLpZ3k5RTUpVeixp9T-xXyIg0O2g2afdtF_l=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5MWuaRKLauxTHWMOY3jSgtei5emTvqn5se-a9LMD0LeK7xtZToSiDoISjyQO3Jk6st35DB6PJFr-8sWgtq9qh2H9Og-__92PGAy-VgJb4g55ztGM3YQb9V4jbOQyAllWGNJdx6D7Qblt9pX7yLl8ZboFbdhsVPsGQ0DrhV48UBl77vbWuqmR6B4ZXyXgK" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5MWuaRKLauxTHWMOY3jSgtei5emTvqn5se-a9LMD0LeK7xtZToSiDoISjyQO3Jk6st35DB6PJFr-8sWgtq9qh2H9Og-__92PGAy-VgJb4g55ztGM3YQb9V4jbOQyAllWGNJdx6D7Qblt9pX7yLl8ZboFbdhsVPsGQ0DrhV48UBl77vbWuqmR6B4ZXyXgK=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7Jf4oN2Vs3Tlae5GJPWZaISLdGi7LjI7zotxrh1MgGOQBkHxjQ6d_aZsLMWwESVBrUfckrZS3bcM3h1nALKzi-yktL6XXv42Hi0fnT0ma0cFhOWtvd4EyxvWwFqu2E6rKAzdSKhIAXBfaYN9hLgQIAeTJpDSqOtGK662i0_kL6x8zYZH-JtSsJyHXbhn3" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7Jf4oN2Vs3Tlae5GJPWZaISLdGi7LjI7zotxrh1MgGOQBkHxjQ6d_aZsLMWwESVBrUfckrZS3bcM3h1nALKzi-yktL6XXv42Hi0fnT0ma0cFhOWtvd4EyxvWwFqu2E6rKAzdSKhIAXBfaYN9hLgQIAeTJpDSqOtGK662i0_kL6x8zYZH-JtSsJyHXbhn3=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhO5D6oA5DTyLKeesoxRCa_KyOTMy_QQ0zvTEjMni0iJZXDDDcrY-cqpa2oMnCEwLUMOpoT9A6C3vidRp5OFy0i3ZCG7_uUXdKji0kcczaUyjNmeQu83EpQ7hcJ6cK--kwwXXsj0P8o2APMPB1-51DU_d_bEj5b3jGyBhIVkV-hVSPTcYnYU9LoCnLxA6rl" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhO5D6oA5DTyLKeesoxRCa_KyOTMy_QQ0zvTEjMni0iJZXDDDcrY-cqpa2oMnCEwLUMOpoT9A6C3vidRp5OFy0i3ZCG7_uUXdKji0kcczaUyjNmeQu83EpQ7hcJ6cK--kwwXXsj0P8o2APMPB1-51DU_d_bEj5b3jGyBhIVkV-hVSPTcYnYU9LoCnLxA6rl=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie Sue is very bright, easy to teach, timid indoors, fun and always unpredictable. When asked to do things (like coming indoors), she sometimes puts her head down, walks sadly away, sits, and looks proudly as if to say, "You are not my boss."</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijPx0u2QbBCJihBmc-axs7YALpis67PkOoSUI6wE1HgVrGG4e7uMhLeNkMhrO-ncWRvTHOlb6YzXJlEoMl28D78VIyivWtxC_Jke4nsMc9GVUYKoA5W5z66Qxtuvlf4Ms2D1a5s1EIX_8U8_gVu0uCTpma7HYgRbOzHfg7Jfra8bXPJArcUarv4ayN3qa3" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijPx0u2QbBCJihBmc-axs7YALpis67PkOoSUI6wE1HgVrGG4e7uMhLeNkMhrO-ncWRvTHOlb6YzXJlEoMl28D78VIyivWtxC_Jke4nsMc9GVUYKoA5W5z66Qxtuvlf4Ms2D1a5s1EIX_8U8_gVu0uCTpma7HYgRbOzHfg7Jfra8bXPJArcUarv4ayN3qa3=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drought plus Charlie racing in the back = no grass.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3x8Id9XiHp9oNwJDevNJ97wQ__-MijzbdbyTjYv3KMotsTwEqF07cNDxmo2khdPpnb-G0NW-EdxafWoFj8QnB6bqOAGTe66bInmGJ1-XmTqRzKU2hmp--0KVKupAuR0B3we3eiMt03evP9NVoyFcbL1IHn2GM2QRNHHLFuSuw5i3XgE0CLkPunz7E2vZW" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3x8Id9XiHp9oNwJDevNJ97wQ__-MijzbdbyTjYv3KMotsTwEqF07cNDxmo2khdPpnb-G0NW-EdxafWoFj8QnB6bqOAGTe66bInmGJ1-XmTqRzKU2hmp--0KVKupAuR0B3we3eiMt03evP9NVoyFcbL1IHn2GM2QRNHHLFuSuw5i3XgE0CLkPunz7E2vZW=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie Sue is a Patterdale Terrier, a prankster, a remarkable digger and runner. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_uEEPpvlKzvJnPnegAct3kp6ZYRuYVCuwLFv9lDnrKJFWiRO65RlLQ-QwOc-5Bqt2nLjLj6mwp1vvWD-70Y1uwW9RXOHd7XbA0uXv6sRZi4SwQRpK4Pm-YnQKIlzmNGbjRgpg3MJYDZ8575gvaauZrSQ-yMvxw15EqYn2HDSulXJ_s2Az8CjvVQIG9lN3" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_uEEPpvlKzvJnPnegAct3kp6ZYRuYVCuwLFv9lDnrKJFWiRO65RlLQ-QwOc-5Bqt2nLjLj6mwp1vvWD-70Y1uwW9RXOHd7XbA0uXv6sRZi4SwQRpK4Pm-YnQKIlzmNGbjRgpg3MJYDZ8575gvaauZrSQ-yMvxw15EqYn2HDSulXJ_s2Az8CjvVQIG9lN3=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Porchie is a Great Pyrenees, the first of Charlie's students in racing up and down the fence. All three are diggers, so we added chicken wire and obstacles to the fence. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhrRPrDRmlzoxrACbQ09cFciQSQmwAy0Y8LrFSGfHU8EE0gMQlrp0GY3TdN6aqqrN_B1wm0_mxqbTnm8EZ0ONuaNq83CG54_pUosi654o5JzLoX67qsVeirrJ7GwEg3tZvu-c7fXir9yuS2yxr2IIt5Jmq-f_DPGIgLSZ-eUAGsv_S9TjbUyyT1YjnjuzED" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhrRPrDRmlzoxrACbQ09cFciQSQmwAy0Y8LrFSGfHU8EE0gMQlrp0GY3TdN6aqqrN_B1wm0_mxqbTnm8EZ0ONuaNq83CG54_pUosi654o5JzLoX67qsVeirrJ7GwEg3tZvu-c7fXir9yuS2yxr2IIt5Jmq-f_DPGIgLSZ-eUAGsv_S9TjbUyyT1YjnjuzED=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie Sue has trained Dustmop, Porchie, and the Doggie Daycare dogs to race along the fence with her. She barks commands at them but never barks in the house.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMOJ4WVJPzAZl29YqJoP0wi9NA0FX9PWvmKemRkSlN7UJw1_lrFYIvr2SvfDVyx5D4o7STGayTc8_LNakhn0IxfHE3C2wxKYbhZcEAEin1_7DqWXOPyVTv_2-VftNYj6WutYowvznqOteYzDwJ4yGG9fVCzzJ5IeQrshNCHsjnmjL9xIlOV33wLRykR9-q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMOJ4WVJPzAZl29YqJoP0wi9NA0FX9PWvmKemRkSlN7UJw1_lrFYIvr2SvfDVyx5D4o7STGayTc8_LNakhn0IxfHE3C2wxKYbhZcEAEin1_7DqWXOPyVTv_2-VftNYj6WutYowvznqOteYzDwJ4yGG9fVCzzJ5IeQrshNCHsjnmjL9xIlOV33wLRykR9-q=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-23516191118249013192023-11-04T18:26:00.002-07:002023-11-04T18:26:22.593-07:00Charlie Sue's Photo - More To Come<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwWelXSa9dZrVEzu3d87Y08KYpRV9netSrIoZrpi-B6YA2_ySJaM4oQD7UymXn_45MBhRmBgdZNsUI8a2Ak_V5QHWn2xVJb9cK2zkEv0r2Dfy5D96vREBIQabauHXvHKUQKiXGEk1htGkImQ6IgFl2RN9Xj-myWB0jpkhQRnF5vunNBVPQUnmb3qei6SA/s2128/Charlie-Sue%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2128" data-original-width="1160" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwWelXSa9dZrVEzu3d87Y08KYpRV9netSrIoZrpi-B6YA2_ySJaM4oQD7UymXn_45MBhRmBgdZNsUI8a2Ak_V5QHWn2xVJb9cK2zkEv0r2Dfy5D96vREBIQabauHXvHKUQKiXGEk1htGkImQ6IgFl2RN9Xj-myWB0jpkhQRnF5vunNBVPQUnmb3qei6SA/w349-h640/Charlie-Sue%20copy.jpg" width="349" /></span></a></div><br /><p></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-25667312224703584162023-11-01T09:16:00.001-07:002023-11-01T09:16:12.523-07:00Tunneling Across the Border<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjhgFMEMzd2UM3QgbUwZThzEyt1ukG3uEmNFE98KRxSNIH5-ebaAJgXgody09XvBrewuLS89GPZvJHqKdmnIhkdvLjF0Rc_dEsn_haXHEANFhbA4gs6ROkDMQ8EYhnD4T3Tc3hiE_L1MDJ26oXh_hkO_HnpxHfAXd2bVfcNmyLzQLRlgNq5p22Jof4OwmCx" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjhgFMEMzd2UM3QgbUwZThzEyt1ukG3uEmNFE98KRxSNIH5-ebaAJgXgody09XvBrewuLS89GPZvJHqKdmnIhkdvLjF0Rc_dEsn_haXHEANFhbA4gs6ROkDMQ8EYhnD4T3Tc3hiE_L1MDJ26oXh_hkO_HnpxHfAXd2bVfcNmyLzQLRlgNq5p22Jof4OwmCx=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Charlie Sue is a Patterdale Terrier, bred for digging, bossy, energetic, quiet indoors, hilarious with all her tricks, jumps, spins, and games.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I wrote before that the Berlin Wall, stage left, was letting the Little White Floormop dig and pass under the fence, both ways. He is the tiny version of Porchi, the Great Pyrenees, who also digs but not that much. I saw LWF go under the fence both ways, thanks to the digging done by Porchi and him, but clearly facilitated by Charlie Sue.</p><p>I let Charlie Sue out in the rain, knowing she would be back soon. When I went to the back door, I had to call for Charlie several times. She came running full speed, grinning, out of deep back yard, cloaked by the green wall of plants and trees. Right after her was LWF, also grinning, his white fur soaked in mud up to his belly. </p><p>LWF wanted to stay and share the mud, but I wrapped him up in a towel and carried him over to the neighbor. I knocked hard on the door (very cold and heavy rain), and it opened up. The father said to the children, "Look. He's back. Say thank you!" They all said, "Thank you! Thank you!" They were grinning and all lit up like Christmas. They might have thought LWF was lost forever, because he was in our yard, in an area surrounded by plants. </p><p>Yesterday my favorite repair guy looked over the multiple Tunnels of Love under the fence wire. He said, "Just like my fence." He fixed the multiple efforts with chicken wire, with a couple of extensions to keep it more secure. </p><p>Doggie Day Care has similar issues, but that fence is largely backed by a series of Clethra shrubs. I intended them for sharing those hummingbird plants, but now I thinking of cutting down on flirting, blocking their view. Charlie loves to socialize and train other dogs to run up and down the fence on their side.</p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-52576248203059608042023-06-06T13:45:00.002-07:002023-06-06T13:45:20.954-07:00Fun with Charli Sue<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASZfjE2c7dVlKQj9eRRe2gJV_c3MNyq0uzcMQ4E6w59JnSoE0nZS4NLDjGRMQAKjFlD3n9aCgD1HuXOLLyhFYQJBdBEg3_lHXAe8PH1SGg67lwKeVSMDlFaXdJojG0q2Er6bzLhyAaG8NhqFhJ6WW1GeLQLwRxhaLhIMtXOeoFcTZE2tndesLdhKp4A/s520/sassy_3.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASZfjE2c7dVlKQj9eRRe2gJV_c3MNyq0uzcMQ4E6w59JnSoE0nZS4NLDjGRMQAKjFlD3n9aCgD1HuXOLLyhFYQJBdBEg3_lHXAe8PH1SGg67lwKeVSMDlFaXdJojG0q2Er6bzLhyAaG8NhqFhJ6WW1GeLQLwRxhaLhIMtXOeoFcTZE2tndesLdhKp4A/w552-h640/sassy_3.PNG" width="552" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">We were lucky to have a professional photographer at the dog park one day, and Sassy Sue adored a crowd.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-7lFtAb98ELEg0VqhVVweS-MpuMGq_W6VnZWf-MSw2MqBe-GDvx-oKaqT4MmCLUzbL7sa-NHNvvUfPv8miFXaJxyesyhgw_Vsg2pWN2T5x02ECqz3hogrcTXdJeCJxWRavFApywXmf8kZnED2BLeU-Ie-yTgCGKSEkFAQ6Z3CasaPzOyAagXINYSNw/s640/Precious_hat%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="640" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-7lFtAb98ELEg0VqhVVweS-MpuMGq_W6VnZWf-MSw2MqBe-GDvx-oKaqT4MmCLUzbL7sa-NHNvvUfPv8miFXaJxyesyhgw_Vsg2pWN2T5x02ECqz3hogrcTXdJeCJxWRavFApywXmf8kZnED2BLeU-Ie-yTgCGKSEkFAQ6Z3CasaPzOyAagXINYSNw/w640-h586/Precious_hat%20copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Treasure (Treshy) was a medical mess, but we took her on and had a riot of fun with her, Sassy, and Precious II . I think Norma A. Boeckler took this photo.<br /><br />Ranger Bob recently spotted an abandoned dog at the cemetery and took her in, naming her Lady. She had serious ear infection problems, but that was cured with antibiotics. Lady's antics at the Ichabode were hilarious, because she loved her superhero Bob and found so many ways to have fun and be funny.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLricBOiMFFEeUG20gY4mCcmTaSE9IMx6Pt8JgAr5RjxnXVDOuK8chF5g30br8qrVyUTWOcGnFbdcQvmt4EQxkhs2n7qlUqVwMmcXYp6zlOqbzwMFVmt7Pp2R8vu41c8ZymdHN0X9WtSpBl1MLuHn8gwEWinH-VJkTEfdgpqcS5TB-FfzDvxRZR5T0Q/s300/charli.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLricBOiMFFEeUG20gY4mCcmTaSE9IMx6Pt8JgAr5RjxnXVDOuK8chF5g30br8qrVyUTWOcGnFbdcQvmt4EQxkhs2n7qlUqVwMmcXYp6zlOqbzwMFVmt7Pp2R8vu41c8ZymdHN0X9WtSpBl1MLuHn8gwEWinH-VJkTEfdgpqcS5TB-FfzDvxRZR5T0Q/w640-h480/charli.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br />More than one person said to me, "Rescue dogs are special, because they always have that unique attitude from being given a forever home."<br /><br />Friends asked me when I would fill the void left by Sassy Sue, who died from kidney failure. Looking quickly changed to visiting Lowell Animal Shelter to have a walk with <a href="https://dogtime.com/dog-breeds/patterdale-terrier" target="_blank">Charli, a female Patterdale Terrier. <br /></a><br />"When can I take her home?" They said, "Now is fine." They were wonderful with Charli, who wanted to stay there.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNjnmXyxPoeBHFSWkyKYyLb8PbojGb82_FAtkkBhIwoje-MOIlaYzRMq23BEYkXAortYrrnThk70yMHZRqeBfK3bz8dyQNzwFsPxKNkfSO1LV6qfwcT2JbciYEHSJuRE9RC2HCexebrtqga1GLqk4MMvCBkJ3hPM3Wp6INrIzJ2XJ_a6GsORaWKxXO7w/s720/charli2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNjnmXyxPoeBHFSWkyKYyLb8PbojGb82_FAtkkBhIwoje-MOIlaYzRMq23BEYkXAortYrrnThk70yMHZRqeBfK3bz8dyQNzwFsPxKNkfSO1LV6qfwcT2JbciYEHSJuRE9RC2HCexebrtqga1GLqk4MMvCBkJ3hPM3Wp6INrIzJ2XJ_a6GsORaWKxXO7w/w640-h480/charli2.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br />Charli's ambiguous name repeated the question asked about Sassy - boy or girl? I added Sue. Everyone is noticing that Charlie Sue is almost identical to Lady, except she is much smaller. <br /><br />The two of them got along at once, and they love tearing around the backyard. Christina asked me to create a green fence in the middle of the backyard, because we were looking right into the backyard of neighbors. A variety of dogs saw a rival dog facing them and barked their terrible threats whenever possible.<br /><br />I followed the idea of stretching logs across the center of the backyard, letting the birds plant seeds for a green fence. I added elderberries earlier, and soon some large hostas and lambs ears.<br /><br />I never saw the backyard as a race track, but Lady and Charli Sue did. First they were running up and down the fence with Porchi (aka Snowflake, a Great Pyrenees). Charli Sue demands running because Patterdales were bred for catching moles and rabbits. Charli Sue turned a bit of tag into a madcap race, around the oval formed by the green fence. Nothing is funnier than a small dog identical to a larger dog, racing full speed. To add to the fun, Charli took short-cuts through the green island and practiced zig-zag and spin around running, grinning all the time.<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Od8pM62_wvget5nTd8KBx5yT78L47OMeWSjh1rRb7I7se72awdBXA6vSADXwMma_5wEpos3etle0QMDa8E7rx5uX3p6xULIc5EO5g868hmWVGh1v90y3RyzDAYCdLf-47SPTObXwidDWQld0WDPmHKddsvAcfpE7zs64Wr2KDB4iPyz058xHOofuuA/s480/greg_sassy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="480" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Od8pM62_wvget5nTd8KBx5yT78L47OMeWSjh1rRb7I7se72awdBXA6vSADXwMma_5wEpos3etle0QMDa8E7rx5uX3p6xULIc5EO5g868hmWVGh1v90y3RyzDAYCdLf-47SPTObXwidDWQld0WDPmHKddsvAcfpE7zs64Wr2KDB4iPyz058xHOofuuA/w640-h512/greg_sassy.jpg" width="640" /></a><p></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-13708365502082836582023-05-26T14:14:00.007-07:002023-06-03T17:28:37.120-07:00Charli Sue, the Patterdale Terrier - Vimeo<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1e4guYkYf8R8xSSfRbAiaOSgeasZMDpkYJ7tRR2RS8Q9FVgH80S-lXlGesyjv2xrkt8CL96N0PYDqEkq77h-wl_Jzq9TNMwoizX_65cv_yIZCAQz2qUbixqPuBaD8ypwiM0_li6WW9QjqClNZLbExgm0hbDVk9HbvQYmIJaYwoUT4Y9IJzSzWnTXIvg/s300/charli.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1e4guYkYf8R8xSSfRbAiaOSgeasZMDpkYJ7tRR2RS8Q9FVgH80S-lXlGesyjv2xrkt8CL96N0PYDqEkq77h-wl_Jzq9TNMwoizX_65cv_yIZCAQz2qUbixqPuBaD8ypwiM0_li6WW9QjqClNZLbExgm0hbDVk9HbvQYmIJaYwoUT4Y9IJzSzWnTXIvg/w640-h480/charli.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Charli Sue's Homecoming</span></p><div style="text-align: center;">May 26, 2023</div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">Staff - Gregory L. Jackson</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div><a href="https://vimeo.com/manage/videos/831708005" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Link to </span></a></div><div><a href="https://vimeo.com/manage/videos/831708005" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Charlie the Patterdale Terrier</span></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="padding: 56.25% 0px 0px; position: relative;"><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" src="https://vimeo.com/event/3459358/embed" style="height: 100%; left: 0; position: absolute; top: 0; width: 100%;"></iframe></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tFaG-qrw3XVUQSM5jEL6uwKCAA0XbveDCePIpIexLnbk1Ct2ipks-ZSibxG0YmK10BEW9JC62tf46MVoCnNOHppM7ReUYnzE80RoTh3ILNcsYSyQph1ur68uINNrqRBPUyd4nH6rv7OLgzmwMcMXdVsjDmkz8apS0_-KlhiSg4H0LAc_btCqQBsqkg/s720/charli2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tFaG-qrw3XVUQSM5jEL6uwKCAA0XbveDCePIpIexLnbk1Ct2ipks-ZSibxG0YmK10BEW9JC62tf46MVoCnNOHppM7ReUYnzE80RoTh3ILNcsYSyQph1ur68uINNrqRBPUyd4nH6rv7OLgzmwMcMXdVsjDmkz8apS0_-KlhiSg4H0LAc_btCqQBsqkg/w640-h480/charli2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-33933300247464397502023-03-06T08:26:00.004-08:002023-03-06T08:26:39.739-08:00Sassy Sue - The Three-Legged Dog Who Sang and Made the Dog Park Dogs Jealous<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTPYtU7mCDOj76Zwd7xjea5U2qKfNMSyqGVVXiXf9GTc6BZGE0dLBeXW4afQjOyeVBwrkhBavwiXJd8niyHaKVu5Q3UWdMDCRmn_OTzZtkcd56Jfdbj6UGojQJqwXMOySCpk9OgFxoxpn2pmssLohEuYu-Jnidg2DPQwhswySoOzMvHucYiHF2lbFeQ/s520/sassy_3.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTPYtU7mCDOj76Zwd7xjea5U2qKfNMSyqGVVXiXf9GTc6BZGE0dLBeXW4afQjOyeVBwrkhBavwiXJd8niyHaKVu5Q3UWdMDCRmn_OTzZtkcd56Jfdbj6UGojQJqwXMOySCpk9OgFxoxpn2pmssLohEuYu-Jnidg2DPQwhswySoOzMvHucYiHF2lbFeQ/w552-h640/sassy_3.PNG" width="552" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sassy was the only dog at the park who could catch the orange squeaker ball and bring it back to my hands, the dog owners clapping, the jealous dogs trying to get the magical ball. <br /><br />I taught her the "Cattle Dog Blues," and she once got a house loaded with dogs singing the chorus with her.<br /><br />Sassy had to go to the vet today, because her kidneys no longer functioned. She was 15, a rescue, very old for a German Shepherd mix.<br /><br />I was telling one lady, years ago, that Sassy was a very special dog. She said, "My dog is very special too." I asked, "Does your dog have a blog?" She replied, "No," so I said, "Sassy does."<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEL0DG1iSj9srIKNNi_sSKXGUUuYgN8_4MoI4NJOqOxom0azts-EdRYzUciABeGC7KNMjJYgvOZA5bw2WuSSr-Oi9CZnaWbiB1J-t85_xu8fq60IsW16oo50DglCzQ0jYgNL-QuopzBuXf2V69XKn-FW3_IHhpmkKuR09fsD1LpqxMIgWdZa39GyzkA/s480/greg_sassy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="480" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEL0DG1iSj9srIKNNi_sSKXGUUuYgN8_4MoI4NJOqOxom0azts-EdRYzUciABeGC7KNMjJYgvOZA5bw2WuSSr-Oi9CZnaWbiB1J-t85_xu8fq60IsW16oo50DglCzQ0jYgNL-QuopzBuXf2V69XKn-FW3_IHhpmkKuR09fsD1LpqxMIgWdZa39GyzkA/w640-h512/greg_sassy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Norma A. Boeckler took this photo. Sassy was watching all the action at the dog park.</td></tr></tbody></table>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-16359791864024243442023-01-09T18:58:00.002-08:002023-01-09T18:58:44.525-08:00Do Cats and Dogs Have a Sense of Humor?<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxX_UvDdZT2DvpW3JWUqZ7CPtVCW6Mrbk0fm6EtXtR-pKfYp_bQ1kQ5vrcniooupzOXyEIqUKwkcwhpUbT6ZKpAcgmAko3BqIfBes3FJi9LTSSD8HgoUS1HzFLiamSxGI92P6D6jNzVZk5bPulNXmP6mmOSFbldLGWXJ_E9ugMTcDlCIJHc44DYMrWQ/s640/sassy_refusingronald.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxX_UvDdZT2DvpW3JWUqZ7CPtVCW6Mrbk0fm6EtXtR-pKfYp_bQ1kQ5vrcniooupzOXyEIqUKwkcwhpUbT6ZKpAcgmAko3BqIfBes3FJi9LTSSD8HgoUS1HzFLiamSxGI92P6D6jNzVZk5bPulNXmP6mmOSFbldLGWXJ_E9ugMTcDlCIJHc44DYMrWQ/w640-h480/sassy_refusingronald.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sassy grinned up at me, as if to say, "No! I will not sit next to Ronald McDonald on that bench. Never!"</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Sassy Sue, the Three-legged Wonder Dog, pretends to ignore me at times. She has seeing and hearing problems, but it is more than that. </p><p>Recently I was moving from the computer desk to the bed, a short distance. I began slipping down, not able to move back to the chair or all the way to the bed. Sassy was lying on her side, her eyes half open, watching me slide to the floor. She had a half-smile on her face but showed no movement or alarm. She seemed to be thinking, "Serves him right."</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18oYuOn9UeFHsIOmA0yZvBD7G858J8VVX0EF9fDda0PmSNpH2auffRzjTseMw90zWK6cFqs6EX41ryK7VwjqRPDomrkghkuk0ZuDjmjQvQHi7q0MnlZRFQDm8yyDGI0GPoX5kldphz8cZRBgAth-u_yipRL2BJuBTl1UbSKiiP2Kfh9nt_vPRguqzrQ/s640/bethanyreddress.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18oYuOn9UeFHsIOmA0yZvBD7G858J8VVX0EF9fDda0PmSNpH2auffRzjTseMw90zWK6cFqs6EX41ryK7VwjqRPDomrkghkuk0ZuDjmjQvQHi7q0MnlZRFQDm8yyDGI0GPoX5kldphz8cZRBgAth-u_yipRL2BJuBTl1UbSKiiP2Kfh9nt_vPRguqzrQ/w512-h640/bethanyreddress.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The solemn doctor said Bethany would not be able to use her eyes normally, but she had perfect vision (Cleveland Clinic) and followed everyone around the room with her eyes. Bethany had an angry fit in my arms, so I asked her, "Is this how you get your way around here?" She relaxed and laughed, conceding my observation was correct.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Today Sassy stretched out near me on the bed. She does not want me to touch her paws, so I stayed close without touching them. I closed my eyes and felt her paw slip under my hand. I looked over - she was grinning at me. That reminded me of tricks played by Bethany and Erin. They did not speak words, but they also knew how to provoke smiles and laughter.</p><p>Cats and dogs are four-legged psychologists, carefully listening to our symptoms and supplying remedies. They are very much like children, young and supposedly limited in knowledge, but very insightful and delighted by their own observations or questions.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxtQBCJCfj6sjJMXXwwcEGh_5lD83-lwMLS2VdWTDOL2S-zMfTqPKk1Q5bIVqybdIEItc2eXzJ3rKb-XrLQqachgT6bphQAAS3kjceT0s82gcb7k8OP3pTeGH-ip_mFhfikipHhlDv8y8aWOm0VljHH52AVMsZJN1jGXdnLNOUtDoD-ThMuQZhu64jfw/s604/chris_erin_smile.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="604" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxtQBCJCfj6sjJMXXwwcEGh_5lD83-lwMLS2VdWTDOL2S-zMfTqPKk1Q5bIVqybdIEItc2eXzJ3rKb-XrLQqachgT6bphQAAS3kjceT0s82gcb7k8OP3pTeGH-ip_mFhfikipHhlDv8y8aWOm0VljHH52AVMsZJN1jGXdnLNOUtDoD-ThMuQZhu64jfw/w640-h452/chris_erin_smile.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Nurses were pleased to hear that Erin's middle name was Joy, because that was their private nickname for the ever-smiling and laughing girl. She was such a prankster that she would start laughing before the nurses finished their story about Erin's latest burst of joy. That often came from a spill or a loud, angry naughty word - from a nurse dropping a quart of yogurt or a huge three-ring notebook of patient records.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Sassy is the mouthiest dog ever, and she is eager to order me around. However, she stays just outside the chapel and listens quietly to the entire worship service. Sometimes one short bark will let everyone know she is attendance. What more can anyone expect from using a spare room in a rented house?</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBYpg5cCc1B9q9l18lp18EH_4-AeRTT3GE_BXDf9xueoWGaDWiuvx5VfWQImgbjspW-eAAqxaa03YObCpyfePwTlfW3O67kFZF490bMLFmvxlXRveSrhPL0IiRNEQQjHH0WVbDFT47ZwUeKg7x6GTa3JVTdlvqINmF8jDh0TZUvSTF4qUcMfcPdu4p4Q/s750/sassy_dogpark_norma.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="750" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBYpg5cCc1B9q9l18lp18EH_4-AeRTT3GE_BXDf9xueoWGaDWiuvx5VfWQImgbjspW-eAAqxaa03YObCpyfePwTlfW3O67kFZF490bMLFmvxlXRveSrhPL0IiRNEQQjHH0WVbDFT47ZwUeKg7x6GTa3JVTdlvqINmF8jDh0TZUvSTF4qUcMfcPdu4p4Q/w640-h420/sassy_dogpark_norma.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Norma A. Boeckler took the picture and designed the graphic - from the dog park in the Bella Vista area, Arkansas.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-32829418922394473442022-12-03T07:55:00.003-08:002022-12-03T07:55:16.485-08:00Sassy Has a New Friend<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQP1qSzDfLUUONlBVE3_PulVmftSTYyAeDmAmk3_FUNhliyhb2ObNHGIixfWsKCocZfB0Dp6ayQ-o7ojpTa3zcszNYXqTt2NTNGoiSvkymU-hSjbxxhJrVhsNGyIVav75dRF0l744sgespnpbca_O467d5ifdwxdaAcjhqMwGM4U6HOS_qGlPsGFKdw/s480/greg_sassy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="480" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQP1qSzDfLUUONlBVE3_PulVmftSTYyAeDmAmk3_FUNhliyhb2ObNHGIixfWsKCocZfB0Dp6ayQ-o7ojpTa3zcszNYXqTt2NTNGoiSvkymU-hSjbxxhJrVhsNGyIVav75dRF0l744sgespnpbca_O467d5ifdwxdaAcjhqMwGM4U6HOS_qGlPsGFKdw/w640-h512/greg_sassy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Sassy was the ball-catching athlete of the dog park, wowing all the owners and making the other dogs jealous of the magical orange ball.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>Ranger Bob rescued a dog shivering and unidentified at the cemetery he visits (his mother and Army Ranger step-father).</p><p>I named her Lady Luck, and Bob shortened it to Lady. I will get photos up in a few days.</p><p>Sassy is gentle with all dogs and cats, and Lady is very smart, gentle, and obedient. The starving dog routine is now a duet.</p><p><br /></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-16856767713461286782022-11-11T09:44:00.001-08:002022-11-11T09:44:06.979-08:00Bible Covers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgDF3ePVNRKfbZ595cna_ueL9_D65UZLMGd2LxXx0pC-issBUf4awAeMGU26HKGUNizgVphS46EJDXSeTXFWwQf9Pj2b57wv09S4elLwoiWd-Z-JCdF_k6u0ihF5vcxUVdP3xXuxHZNHQt-Jks_lTYe5snBTJAk1qLoFqTg8ZYU1rZiuSsEMwKc_8u5A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="174" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgDF3ePVNRKfbZ595cna_ueL9_D65UZLMGd2LxXx0pC-issBUf4awAeMGU26HKGUNizgVphS46EJDXSeTXFWwQf9Pj2b57wv09S4elLwoiWd-Z-JCdF_k6u0ihF5vcxUVdP3xXuxHZNHQt-Jks_lTYe5snBTJAk1qLoFqTg8ZYU1rZiuSsEMwKc_8u5A=w280-h400" width="280" /></a></div><br /><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3U749jIaPvCNwq5C99mn-UnCP1fuvnaxEFh5aRDYgB5UpHw4n44NkYX2N07dRoQ_8QGNc-qn-g_xuV9rOjFDeK2_pagJujHM_yHt41T5KX2g0CRo7JVNxt_cL6ABcEWmGC6_g8Xo340b-ULUBUNK_Xm2ys234cPZJu9E2c7fKPMIuqfqF0XKcF_GlhA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="602" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3U749jIaPvCNwq5C99mn-UnCP1fuvnaxEFh5aRDYgB5UpHw4n44NkYX2N07dRoQ_8QGNc-qn-g_xuV9rOjFDeK2_pagJujHM_yHt41T5KX2g0CRo7JVNxt_cL6ABcEWmGC6_g8Xo340b-ULUBUNK_Xm2ys234cPZJu9E2c7fKPMIuqfqF0XKcF_GlhA" width="274" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXJcxaUnhW1xJLdmbV--QRTzzS35mR4LMp-eviBvCd95YIRgiv61NHo5uvZ3Gc-TuTJ-KXwGrNRWjtnLKF_Aeo4ZpZg-jbVB4q3qbcR77tqcctirCIAPt8JLGVHle6owOZHP2_2m91lz8wJzrbPixAnQHsGSmBwFm5XiC89KOindaqytGmO3ewDjiY7Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="332" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXJcxaUnhW1xJLdmbV--QRTzzS35mR4LMp-eviBvCd95YIRgiv61NHo5uvZ3Gc-TuTJ-KXwGrNRWjtnLKF_Aeo4ZpZg-jbVB4q3qbcR77tqcctirCIAPt8JLGVHle6owOZHP2_2m91lz8wJzrbPixAnQHsGSmBwFm5XiC89KOindaqytGmO3ewDjiY7Q=w416-h640" width="416" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-79942870486815568662022-09-17T03:57:00.004-07:002022-09-17T03:57:39.000-07:00Sassy and Ghost - Friendship Through the Fence<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHl3uhGBOHlRjFoVVH04ePNA-M-i9HKQXg3_XrerQoircreujBlrA8WnbFrb232m06h0LRiUwW2iVUcLyRipnRcEAl22qMWixhq3-RlN-MGVtmX-IKl3QPqGbB7Z0k0CtJJcFDeRG2sxCGDCRDB9EeIOoy8peALwmborlzTo4Qo7wpZlcQ9SENX-A5Yg/s640/1hello.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHl3uhGBOHlRjFoVVH04ePNA-M-i9HKQXg3_XrerQoircreujBlrA8WnbFrb232m06h0LRiUwW2iVUcLyRipnRcEAl22qMWixhq3-RlN-MGVtmX-IKl3QPqGbB7Z0k0CtJJcFDeRG2sxCGDCRDB9EeIOoy8peALwmborlzTo4Qo7wpZlcQ9SENX-A5Yg/s600/1hello.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><br />Ghost and Sassy have become good friends. This male dog is large, thin, and not eager to bark loudly or growl. He plays doggy tag with Sassy, though on opposite sides of the fence. <div><br /></div><div>When he was a little puppy, he walked straight into the Rose Garden to become friendly, his family not knowing how to get to him - respect for the garden.<div><br /></div><div>The formerly small dog is full grown and stands on his hind feet to say hello and have some conversation with me. He wants his head stroked and his floppy ears gently tugged.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sassy's game with me is to give her lovies before she will jump onto the bed. I ask, incredulously, "You want a lovey?!" She grins. Sometimes she fakes the jump to get a second or third lovey. </div><div><br /></div><div>An alternative is to pose for the lovey, chest against the bed, and turn 180 degrees and trot down the hallway to go outside - grinning.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lutheran Librarian Alec Satin says, "Pets teach us to play their games."</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj89YGxyjEzgVRDcUtzmkBRlwOJTgm7iUWOVKYdPSlSJaC9GJahdNj-Phj7c4Is7JGr-jVCVAnMhXwKUeaRRXLE71FssfXwg5hwhmA1Ypp9as5VY8HVtB9Ue3Oxeexhsg7sCuTTYgsA3Wp8uoAfGD0KdNb6wP0snw0_523S986WnRcJo4bu9QNBcwWP6A/s639/boy_dog_grin.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="491" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj89YGxyjEzgVRDcUtzmkBRlwOJTgm7iUWOVKYdPSlSJaC9GJahdNj-Phj7c4Is7JGr-jVCVAnMhXwKUeaRRXLE71FssfXwg5hwhmA1Ypp9as5VY8HVtB9Ue3Oxeexhsg7sCuTTYgsA3Wp8uoAfGD0KdNb6wP0snw0_523S986WnRcJo4bu9QNBcwWP6A/w492-h640/boy_dog_grin.png" width="492" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-43939924371108848332022-09-06T20:28:00.003-07:002022-09-06T20:28:14.498-07:00Sassy Meets Ghost - Plays Tag<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGjiP9jXD1eQp7aCBhX6OzpaooOFduVFA0liehH3T9R8W21oGE5Cun4rj_GbEQjQNaZeXsqt0_FJmGB9EpP1ieSGYnShRsVz-80nu2ZXPrgR6m6sKYQhMKDJYBykTdQjPl9uoF3RcFMvmscGAmI3rhuulKpWhqjf_-zNG5_VISuAsf0xsk153P61PbIw/s960/sassy_grass.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGjiP9jXD1eQp7aCBhX6OzpaooOFduVFA0liehH3T9R8W21oGE5Cun4rj_GbEQjQNaZeXsqt0_FJmGB9EpP1ieSGYnShRsVz-80nu2ZXPrgR6m6sKYQhMKDJYBykTdQjPl9uoF3RcFMvmscGAmI3rhuulKpWhqjf_-zNG5_VISuAsf0xsk153P61PbIw/w640-h640/sassy_grass.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Sassy has a white mussel now. She normally goes to the front to guard the garden and look for Ranger Bob.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Sassy wanted to go outside in the backyard, so I let her out. Soon I heard a " Wuff! Wuff! Wuff!" It was so gentle that it did not sound quite like a dog. Sassy issues orders with sharp, indignant barks.</p><p>I peaked out the backdoor, suspecting it was Ghost (her stage name, to avoid costly lawsuits). She is the beautiful white puppy who invited herself into the Rose Garden when I was sitting on the ground and working with some plants. Ghost seemed to know the coast was clear, the family would not pursue her. We had a little talk and Ghost rewarded me with kisses, licks, and a place on her dance card. The family wanted her back but did not want to trample the garden. After all, I grow real weeds. Ghost went back and everyone was happy.</p><p>Ghost is quite large and slender now, with long silky hair. She wanted to play tag with Sassy, and they both jumped around, feigning attacks, and had fun in spite of the fence. I will do some things in the backyard, and Ghost is likely to insist on some talk, petting, and perhaps tennis ball chasing.</p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-61555155524507751612022-03-15T06:23:00.005-07:002022-03-15T06:37:02.288-07:00Beware! The Tides of March!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4wTqnyqUCrXBcdNAd4w8MVsN1FjMs_zEMMiH3ue5Hraesawn05YvN9Hxn1S_wu21wcnwKqwB5WR1mt13CqKbmr3_w6XWr9n-k5QWiCXX3blT1kRq8AxgiuNRMFD1KHhRm5_PkSeuFdOdjLAp7Y7ILC4j23wNoJKEyFvwXv7yx6maCd68qaT7gRuqNGA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="576" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4wTqnyqUCrXBcdNAd4w8MVsN1FjMs_zEMMiH3ue5Hraesawn05YvN9Hxn1S_wu21wcnwKqwB5WR1mt13CqKbmr3_w6XWr9n-k5QWiCXX3blT1kRq8AxgiuNRMFD1KHhRm5_PkSeuFdOdjLAp7Y7ILC4j23wNoJKEyFvwXv7yx6maCd68qaT7gRuqNGA=w640-h414" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-15409182078834873742022-03-14T21:20:00.003-07:002022-03-14T21:20:16.578-07:00Sassy Teaches This Old Dog a New Trick<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRuigc4XK0LMU3YbPJn6W0tHAyxEld9QpC3yfXhcVC5huezI9MnOg-G-fdReVYAIKOq4X2BQDamKHMyEg5StLRyTKsBuUJybVdB-bZERs6fBNBx48Gq8ICx9Z6oESoYFMtY7Af7T6cI5tsCE8nny6Re3Ubvt74Gy_sxwlZJZ7o-9xGwHbogH20Of9qdw=s480" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="480" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRuigc4XK0LMU3YbPJn6W0tHAyxEld9QpC3yfXhcVC5huezI9MnOg-G-fdReVYAIKOq4X2BQDamKHMyEg5StLRyTKsBuUJybVdB-bZERs6fBNBx48Gq8ICx9Z6oESoYFMtY7Af7T6cI5tsCE8nny6Re3Ubvt74Gy_sxwlZJZ7o-9xGwHbogH20Of9qdw=w640-h512" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Norma A. Boeckler took this photo at the dog park when she visited us.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div>Sassy had trouble jumping up on the bed as she got older. She could do it most of the time, but she liked being encouraged. I even put my foot near her tail to encourage her. She did her, "Rar, rar, rar!" warning bark but did not mean anything by it. She is known for being gentle but very loud.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She kept making fake attempts at jumping up one night, and I got angry. Then I sat down and petted her, telling her how much we all loved her. She gave me a gentle little lick of affection.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyZbSlk3UC3t_uu-hcfN33noLDP3v22-lsfkPluLSGnwImHMsSX8Xw5kngOFcT3Jf7tjGGCRn7vnVcc97LihSuKB-GfsyxrMU0QOfD6EgBpUbdmAH_wFKmnVeBgYTfiYAAPFlPmLPtIUwpdBojdRcNdkU27ASHycbMYUIDu7Bl-C7kEcNI0SztGE0IUw=s750" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="750" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyZbSlk3UC3t_uu-hcfN33noLDP3v22-lsfkPluLSGnwImHMsSX8Xw5kngOFcT3Jf7tjGGCRn7vnVcc97LihSuKB-GfsyxrMU0QOfD6EgBpUbdmAH_wFKmnVeBgYTfiYAAPFlPmLPtIUwpdBojdRcNdkU27ASHycbMYUIDu7Bl-C7kEcNI0SztGE0IUw=w640-h472" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Sassy jumped, ran, and fetched better than the four-legged dogs.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That - I learned to my sorrow and laughter - was the beginning of the lovey needed for the jump. She no longer jumped for any reason but pushed her chest up against the bed, looked up, and grinned at me for a lovey. That had to be fairly wordy and effusive in language about her many friends, her gentleness, and her love for everyone. </div><div><br /></div><div>So that immediately became a requirement. Her fake run turned into parking her chest against the bed. When we took off the legs of the bed - for her - she continued pushing her chest against bed and grinning. I took that as the new expectation, but I was wrong.</div><div><br /></div><div>Soon Sassy began to park her chest against the corner of the bed. I thought maybe she was saving time. No. After that was done, she pretended to get her fun going, but pushed her chest in the same place again. She began giving me really big grins for this. (I gave her an M.A. - <i>honoris causa</i> - in adult education - for training me so well. The honorary doctorate will come later, I am sure.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight I tried to get her to jump after the first lovey, at the corner of the bed. She wiggled around and stopped with her chest against the bed again - big grin. She likes a longer bout of petting for the second time, and she wants an elaborate discussion of her merits, friends, and awesome reputation. I get a second gentle lick for being such a good student at her academy.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtb1N8H442bZ5wkw9cyL_4cHCDhAbPCIybhAijRNtY7CURtrpmQGph7qXocPNQpPGosuwIB1cduoRQ-0giYqBSgYfjrGC1eoqhYpBO37kS1bWRhiBaby8ThaHfuAX5QzRJOVDpYu6zQY8aikpW6QcDv3Lv3Vz2dlaFeq7MK-Asjb0TLyzezH8dyKeZ3Q=s640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtb1N8H442bZ5wkw9cyL_4cHCDhAbPCIybhAijRNtY7CURtrpmQGph7qXocPNQpPGosuwIB1cduoRQ-0giYqBSgYfjrGC1eoqhYpBO37kS1bWRhiBaby8ThaHfuAX5QzRJOVDpYu6zQY8aikpW6QcDv3Lv3Vz2dlaFeq7MK-Asjb0TLyzezH8dyKeZ3Q=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> People loved seeing Sassy in the back seat, with me as the chauffer, in the Lincoln Town Car. It was a beautiful, smooth, dependable car that went 205,000 miles for us and then provided transportation for a friend's mother.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-95758977416178612022-01-12T09:04:00.001-08:002022-01-12T09:04:10.811-08:00Sassy Helps Alaska Go Back Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeRF400XmlVafyLrqQhe4vBUlKlIIKZEcRhAREUa4UaPeBgVNezaJa2z8tZ_NHIURlscd3nJog5RjoqDBOYZnu0SPqMUVlEkTfLO0sWegr2yc3KvvmL8TmVsX6X6Fg0a1axRQvwq6cU7q7gMsQXX6V0PRmiNLFPPe5RTnF1iuJN6FHIbz19crDoZzlQw=s720" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="618" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeRF400XmlVafyLrqQhe4vBUlKlIIKZEcRhAREUa4UaPeBgVNezaJa2z8tZ_NHIURlscd3nJog5RjoqDBOYZnu0SPqMUVlEkTfLO0sWegr2yc3KvvmL8TmVsX6X6Fg0a1axRQvwq6cU7q7gMsQXX6V0PRmiNLFPPe5RTnF1iuJN6FHIbz19crDoZzlQw=w550-h640" width="550" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I was walking Sassy a bit late this morning when a big black dog met me in the middle of the road (no traffic) and began hugging me. "Alaska! Are you out again? Let's go home."</p><p>Alaska, full of energy and love, loped in circles around me and came back to hug me some more.</p><p>"Come on Sass, Alaska has to go home. Alaska, I will be your advocate, your protector." Sassy was audibly annoyed and barked some displeasure.</p><p>We were close to the house, so I rang the bell, and out came one of the staff. He said, "Oh yeah, he took off running this morning." Alaska went inside. They love Sassy, and I love Alaska and Atlas.</p><p>Once we got to the turn-around, Pat and John needed a lift to the bank and auto repair. We went back and got the Voyager and took them both places. I wanted some Walmart vegetables, so I got them the milk they needed.</p><p>The errand worked out well, and we came back. Sassy got lots of attention in the car, from petting where she lies down, between the front seats. When we drove onto some new streets for car repair estimates, Sassy spoke up with her special "I don't know where you are going" cracked bark. It is pitiful and sad -- and very handy for getting attention.</p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-13570516428378549922021-11-13T01:37:00.001-08:002021-11-13T01:37:05.486-08:00The Games Our Pets Teach Us To Play<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh01vFY0z0y0Z0K7_j7gY7_IMyY6FgNDMdVMFGrnFOVMH_7xn7AWI6ldzI-QMWwFVpJE73XFrbkHXMn0h51P1MBUVkMr3kZgI7Ync_bxYFXhZLqgkYkWDBt_cfprA8jIMODYp5qvhUPZZBvzCEY7OQhRbgxy1kWFkM6ovEUYg21or7hVw-xyeP6H8xf8A=s720" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="720" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh01vFY0z0y0Z0K7_j7gY7_IMyY6FgNDMdVMFGrnFOVMH_7xn7AWI6ldzI-QMWwFVpJE73XFrbkHXMn0h51P1MBUVkMr3kZgI7Ync_bxYFXhZLqgkYkWDBt_cfprA8jIMODYp5qvhUPZZBvzCEY7OQhRbgxy1kWFkM6ovEUYg21or7hVw-xyeP6H8xf8A=w640-h478" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Sassy got snarly about needing to go outside, so I obliged her. She came back in, had breakfast, and fell asleep. We had a freeze last night, so the house feels like a walk-in freezer at Tyson's. She decided the bed-warmer was better than the carpeting for her beauty rest.</p><p>The Lutheran Librarian says, "Our pets teach us the games they want to play." So true. Someone was chiding me about "still helping Sassy up on the bed." No, that is a game she invented when the legs were still on the bed. She could easily jump up on the bed but she liked to make a game of it, sitting there and smiling at me. Making the jump got harder and I did cheers to get her running up to the bed and jumping. That was so much fun that one day she made 10 attempts in a row. I sat on the bed and petted her. (That is the old part of her game.) She wanted pre-jump petting after that.</p><p>We took the legs off to make it easier for Sassy. She continued the tickle jump game. I had to nudge her with my foot to make an attempt. She snarled and barked at the offending foot and made the jump. I cheered and she barked triumphantly, "Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark." Her six-fold bark means she is really proud of herself.</p><p>I had to do this while on the phone. "Are you still spoiling her, even though the legs are off the bed?" I had to explain, "She loves the game, so I have to go along with it."</p><p>Likewise, Sassy was craving attention when I was on the phone with the Lutheran Librarian. I explained my extra duties while talking, and he said, "My cat is in my arms demanding attention, too. I understand."</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ2IQ_0EoXr1FUMiIOiQqrFsoJvOVJ9J7w9rYK36rxx4rYnUaUE9UPB5JFnUHiNxnLiBUsGX9FtVXyEYbRp-Y8yPncZNBQabD72A1EsJpwguGk5P3Yx1zGgWVGlLnZyWez4bNcdD6TqjbHf6387EtCKQu3ZbxDwiokDHv1Ax_qt5xhTYMHzsEy1S_0ug=s480" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="480" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ2IQ_0EoXr1FUMiIOiQqrFsoJvOVJ9J7w9rYK36rxx4rYnUaUE9UPB5JFnUHiNxnLiBUsGX9FtVXyEYbRp-Y8yPncZNBQabD72A1EsJpwguGk5P3Yx1zGgWVGlLnZyWez4bNcdD6TqjbHf6387EtCKQu3ZbxDwiokDHv1Ax_qt5xhTYMHzsEy1S_0ug=w640-h512" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Sassy amazed people with her ability to follow directions at the dog park. The more they cheered her ball chasing and catching, placing it gently in my hand, the more crowd cheers she earned. She is more sedate now and more likely to give orders than obey them. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-24549139367298618132021-10-07T05:26:00.005-07:002021-10-07T05:26:31.366-07:00Advanced Training from Sassy Sue, The Three-Legged Wonder-Dog<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjj1g0Nip_ebxUDF-POslfMYleRLAq-ndD5kUJLaRrgqo6rjzyRkHh845DifCtJisFje7bxY9SdEc5xEHJwGA6QZjspjU0hRLCAhHdDk3CEoH2SUa-H4UaMViWX18nKLPXMRLpjwg_ZY8pYhtLppcom_Aw3xBo4ROKt2Aq9nE5Wh1pXMkCtqS2KuH-FOw=s1600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1199" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjj1g0Nip_ebxUDF-POslfMYleRLAq-ndD5kUJLaRrgqo6rjzyRkHh845DifCtJisFje7bxY9SdEc5xEHJwGA6QZjspjU0hRLCAhHdDk3CEoH2SUa-H4UaMViWX18nKLPXMRLpjwg_ZY8pYhtLppcom_Aw3xBo4ROKt2Aq9nE5Wh1pXMkCtqS2KuH-FOw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy began having trouble jumping onto the bed because of her cataracts and age. She needed the light on and she enjoyed being encouraged. At first she barked against the tickle, when I tried to get her going by touching her. But she decided she liked the tickle jump, especially after she trained me to give her a heavy dose of affection before the jump.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy's signal for affection is to sit down, look up, and smile, as if to say, "I am ready for petting and gushing praise." She has blocked teens from walking down the sidewalk, grinning and facing them, her rear leg down, expecting praise and petting.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I was getting tired of helping her jump up on the bed numerous times, so we took off the legs of the bed, giving her an easy step up. The dog ramp was anathema to her, and she did half-hearted half-jumps to show me how much she would avoid the ramp.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">After a little encouragement, Sassy learned it was easy to hop up into her bed, as long as I stayed in my place.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Success? Almost.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She missed the commotion and drama of the tickle jump, so I do an imitation of the drum roll, raise my voice, and cheer when she makes the jump. Praise and pet time is first, so I did that this morning.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The funniest part of my advanced training was seeing her walk up to the bed a few days ago, form the friendly triangle with her bottom on the floor, and grin up at me. "You know I love praise and petting." She runs back to gain speed, though no necessary, listens for the dramatic sound effects, then climaxes the jump with five or six loud barks.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"You did it, Sassy!" Bark! Bark!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"You made the tickle jump!" Bark! Bark! Bark!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmqHdhQ1djmzV9es0h1YfX2qmB5jZoXSTC_CPu1w7YcEaeebAZuXyRVRK9sp9xq_bEfRHoIaphnu21_bRjr5bF0O0ADZJXq2z4ZYd6KOh1oaDXwdKQFgtCjygbERR6FFh61HVoS0fRokEFncpI4vEgb3ysFjRVKNlPxtkVzKiuBYzzo7vRJKeo_VrVFg=s640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmqHdhQ1djmzV9es0h1YfX2qmB5jZoXSTC_CPu1w7YcEaeebAZuXyRVRK9sp9xq_bEfRHoIaphnu21_bRjr5bF0O0ADZJXq2z4ZYd6KOh1oaDXwdKQFgtCjygbERR6FFh61HVoS0fRokEFncpI4vEgb3ysFjRVKNlPxtkVzKiuBYzzo7vRJKeo_VrVFg=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> "OK! I will let you drive my Town Car."<br />The ears back show her great happiness.</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-85894808971782284472021-09-23T20:48:00.004-07:002021-09-23T20:48:28.044-07:00Sassy Is Still Teaching This Old Dog (Me) New Tricks<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_tb6uQepOpVbv9FEzrB3g8808a4UvxV8rGcSKezBMCucmqp04dYyC4T3Hmhqt81Id3jWMAcRW_AgW0TwtjKJO5V9vL0a8s8V_mmKoEfclsNMnwbKolhWNx5qUSewS79JjBa5t62EOg6d/s2048/E4-E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1638" data-original-width="2048" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_tb6uQepOpVbv9FEzrB3g8808a4UvxV8rGcSKezBMCucmqp04dYyC4T3Hmhqt81Id3jWMAcRW_AgW0TwtjKJO5V9vL0a8s8V_mmKoEfclsNMnwbKolhWNx5qUSewS79JjBa5t62EOg6d/w640-h512/E4-E.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As I told Ranger Bob today, Sassy taught this old dog (me) a new trick. For 10 years she has always gone to the treat room, the bathroom, for a treat and a stay while no one else was in the house. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Yesterday, I got a Pup-eroni out and said, "Time for the treat room, Sassy." She did not budge. I walked over to her spot on the bed and hustled her off. I herded her toward the treat room and she dodged me to go back to the bed.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She has made a big deal about jumping up on the bed, even with the legs off to make it shorter and easier. Several tries normally end up with a lot of celebratory "Woofs!" However, she just walked up to the bed and hopped onto it. No drama queen business - she meant it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The clincher was this - she turned her ears backward to show that was her last word. I first experienced that with Sacky, who was 100% Cattle Dog, not 50% like Sassy. When I told Sacky that I would not throw her toy (a squeaking foot) unless she brought it all the way back to my hands, she turned her ears back the same way. After making some agonized noises, leading up to a shudder and a Whoop!, Sacky delivered the toy into my hands. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But Sacky could be immovable at times. So this was Sassy the Cattle Dog and German Shepherd, laying down the gauntlet, here I sit, I can do no other. I said, "OK girl, leave everything alone." She did, and I gave her a second chance today. No problems.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy rounds up our neighbors' two dogs, Atlas and Alaska, puppies known for their size and mischief. Sassy found Atlas in our yard again, and we began herding the puppy back to her home. The dad came out and said, "We heard you calling Atlas and I said - not again!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Atlas was repeating her prancing around in circles as we moved toward home base. We had some laughs over the two dogs' behavior, so the owner said, "I'll get Alaska." With Atlas in the yard, Alaska came bounding out of the house, licking my hand, asking Sassy for chase, coming back, jumping up for a kiss on my face. So much fun! Time magazine, not good for anything now, once labeled dogs <b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">The Eighth Wonder of the World</span></b>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlh-HV3ntPfjebvweXYIecYrNtAYEkGhEu3ygA6lAqzeJ0OyniQEyYUebC7MbAeCP5VArSpfhOOhc9iaJIobgxT4dZp4LI6twuJdTDeRN6KxjyuoxgaHcvaF7P-7OeykjmIUe4Ny9EjmLD/s2048/E1-E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1638" data-original-width="2048" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlh-HV3ntPfjebvweXYIecYrNtAYEkGhEu3ygA6lAqzeJ0OyniQEyYUebC7MbAeCP5VArSpfhOOhc9iaJIobgxT4dZp4LI6twuJdTDeRN6KxjyuoxgaHcvaF7P-7OeykjmIUe4Ny9EjmLD/w640-h512/E1-E.jpg" width="640" /></span></b></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> We were included in Sassy's photo-shoot. Ranger Bob got his own 10 x 14 fancy framed photo. Sassy explodes in joy when he phones or knocks on the door. </span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-19673854990137672282021-07-06T05:38:00.003-07:002021-07-06T05:38:49.106-07:00Sassy's New Bed - Outside on the Former Berry Patch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHEbN3FBptNW9-3ARmu252eVGC-t9c1dfMj7cn76UtOmhKUhfc0hAUwsaOCr1Px3Kp7rYKuwXMwJTCBN1maiD6Gyel7yhkoiRXj_WgZ2xuQEVYWkTD7Jf7Yi71tTvSxmcMIP7wD56-2T8/s960/sassy_grass.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHEbN3FBptNW9-3ARmu252eVGC-t9c1dfMj7cn76UtOmhKUhfc0hAUwsaOCr1Px3Kp7rYKuwXMwJTCBN1maiD6Gyel7yhkoiRXj_WgZ2xuQEVYWkTD7Jf7Yi71tTvSxmcMIP7wD56-2T8/w640-h640/sassy_grass.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Four times we went after the blackberry patch, twice hacking away the growth and twice putting a blanket of mulch down to discourage a rebirth. I had a helper, which kept the finishing date within this calendar year.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy tells me when she wants to go outside, often after her meal. She often stays out a long time, which may be her time checking over the yard and neighbors. She never stops being a guard dog.</span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QGkQ-uedwNnkKtABLXwNXwbbEJYH2CA0P1dl-6961qbGQ48EiyHZcvETxIkJb_otPOK3s0btJ65bDnQt-2pcXQz9JrRDMDJ9fYXWs4BBj75XrsJk1LtTQOz6-4xxAtY7Q8lo-Msd7slw/s960/dani_sassy_chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="755" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QGkQ-uedwNnkKtABLXwNXwbbEJYH2CA0P1dl-6961qbGQ48EiyHZcvETxIkJb_otPOK3s0btJ65bDnQt-2pcXQz9JrRDMDJ9fYXWs4BBj75XrsJk1LtTQOz6-4xxAtY7Q8lo-Msd7slw/w504-h640/dani_sassy_chair.jpg" width="504" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy loved the harmless spill. She walked into the view to enhance the fun.</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She used to sit behind the garbage barrels, hidden from sight. I got used to that, but ever since the restoration of that berry patch, I find her sunning herself on top of the thick layer of mulch, newspaper, and cardboard. The Sassy Patch is sun-soaked with some shade from the house and tree. The patch is always warm and drier than the rest of the backyard.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Doubtless she also likes to scratch up her next. I said to her recently, "Sassy, you have been scratching up your nest on the bed for 10 years. Isn't it soft enough yet?" She grinned, came over to me, and kissed my face." How does one discipline such a sly companion and mischief-maker?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKEl8yyurTKZobKmDl_NajakjhkxI4y8Kx2eNPHJVHz-uFwdU-Cg5GeanEhApc-4PCTB-amQF5WPZP-RLIZCYAxJMzfCYtlpMsw4DiC8wMf51NlwSJO1KyUbBgU_her5bQbygpO6anAkC/s1200/sassy_news_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="1200" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKEl8yyurTKZobKmDl_NajakjhkxI4y8Kx2eNPHJVHz-uFwdU-Cg5GeanEhApc-4PCTB-amQF5WPZP-RLIZCYAxJMzfCYtlpMsw4DiC8wMf51NlwSJO1KyUbBgU_her5bQbygpO6anAkC/w640-h424/sassy_news_large.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-43259245056761833092021-06-08T05:30:00.000-07:002021-06-08T05:30:07.570-07:00The Cardinals and Sassy Sue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8alpYJ7vGpQLJzpCdUpK1a19XraXrXBgBmtY8scKHm97FTCM-YyBsiuavrLv_NXgdpAHYK5JMKebj1-_6aO_SmduXH04FWxkPwJOvvOCo8xXsFjnrXngQAtw_GAqfmI9Yb3LNdqxpoIN/s480/greg_sassy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="480" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8alpYJ7vGpQLJzpCdUpK1a19XraXrXBgBmtY8scKHm97FTCM-YyBsiuavrLv_NXgdpAHYK5JMKebj1-_6aO_SmduXH04FWxkPwJOvvOCo8xXsFjnrXngQAtw_GAqfmI9Yb3LNdqxpoIN/w640-h512/greg_sassy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy is staring me down, knowing I will drink some pour-over coffee before I take her out for a walk. Sometimes the look is triumphant, grinning "I know you will go outside soon." The afternoon look starts at 3 PM, which is prime time for Ranger Bob to be around. Then she lifts her head and lets go with piercing, heart-breaking howls. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"What's wrong with Sassy?" Mrs. Ichabod asks.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"It's Bob time, 3 PM." I answer. The scramble to the front door is inspiring.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Alaska has become a regular. He escapes routinely and often waits at our door for an escort back home. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Sassy and Alaska played tag a little at Bob's, and Alaska was glad to go back home, across the street from Bob's. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I called through their semi-open front door, "Does anyone want a large, black puppy?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Some evolutionists should study how dogs of all breeds and various locations play the tag game. It starts with a duck down and then a jump to the left or right. That is repeated for "Let's play tag." Sassy played the more advanced version, the "Kill Game," with her two mates at home. One dog would play victim, the other a killer attacking up and down the victim's body - no harm done. Then they would switch and do the same, making lots of noise and racing in and out the doggie door. In South Bend, far from home, Sassy played the whole game with new dogs. If humans look or pay attention, the game stops.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">The Cardinal Is Married!</span></b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Squirrels will come up to the kitchen window and wonder - with their sad, orphaned eyes - when the next meal is coming. All the animals can tell if food is on the barrels and window ledges. Recently a female cardinal stopped on one barrel to search in obvious, beseeching ways, for food. She paced around, looking for food that was not there.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">That must be the cardinal version for "Get some fresh snacks at the store. I'm hungry." Typical male. So she goes out, looks, and solicits. Bob says, "Indians consider cardinals good luck, so it is special if you always have them in your yard." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">To win and keep their approval, I have</span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Five feeding areas in the backyard</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Two baths in the front and two in the backyard</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Berry plants, bushes, and Poke weeds</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Wild strawberries on the ground</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Rough areas where many creatures meet, greet, and procreate.</span></li></ul><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIK0KPbowVIpV_XrQLxFLilreXfnukQIUbxolw2_Ry603pI_SuqUzZ_9J6Gy5G8F9aYT7MyA_PSak_7esDLB1Ma3qVz4QIbP7QQZ-rg5vTpC_VfXNTTJ9dEgXkHOcpi3kl2zoaMNCNFaO4/s640/sassymoline_crane_yawn_true.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="356" data-original-width="640" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIK0KPbowVIpV_XrQLxFLilreXfnukQIUbxolw2_Ry603pI_SuqUzZ_9J6Gy5G8F9aYT7MyA_PSak_7esDLB1Ma3qVz4QIbP7QQZ-rg5vTpC_VfXNTTJ9dEgXkHOcpi3kl2zoaMNCNFaO4/w640-h356/sassymoline_crane_yawn_true.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy set up a defense perimeter when the Moline 66 ladies had lunch and Mrs. Ichabod attended. Sassy celebrates her great moments by barking happily.</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-64556171506802043402021-04-19T05:42:00.003-07:002021-04-19T05:42:54.438-07:00How Pets Train Us<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwyHcxWG6829IMRrlaUrxD6mtRwGmmPiodt_G2rXSutiXWtgedkSwu4dtMm-OT_tX-g6iygYB8vxNSQa0A3nA7gbZ2IwZCiBQ75NtlKENVw0IyOYi5g4i3Nz-QtNI2Cn7rsLyaPChMVXMk/s1638/young-my-dogs-in-the-northland-1024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1638" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwyHcxWG6829IMRrlaUrxD6mtRwGmmPiodt_G2rXSutiXWtgedkSwu4dtMm-OT_tX-g6iygYB8vxNSQa0A3nA7gbZ2IwZCiBQ75NtlKENVw0IyOYi5g4i3Nz-QtNI2Cn7rsLyaPChMVXMk/w400-h640/young-my-dogs-in-the-northland-1024.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJ273BBRZEILFoi9Jk8R4LtoKzHnhK0eP-7dYlBjbiRtUImeOe8upHwsIO3u0SBa5YMdImDUvwikonE2zWm7MMIxZ5n7h09X-9IP4Q1SFefolyWwLoICeJC2UKXqArIOCBk2pU-uhHwyp/s605/Young-Egerton_Ryerson_Young_dogs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJ273BBRZEILFoi9Jk8R4LtoKzHnhK0eP-7dYlBjbiRtUImeOe8upHwsIO3u0SBa5YMdImDUvwikonE2zWm7MMIxZ5n7h09X-9IP4Q1SFefolyWwLoICeJC2UKXqArIOCBk2pU-uhHwyp/w466-h640/Young-Egerton_Ryerson_Young_dogs.jpg" width="466" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Our Lutheran Librarian, Alec Satin, sent me the link to this wonderful book, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egerton_Ryerson_Young" target="_blank">My Dogs in the Northland</a>, by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egerton_Ryerson_Young" target="_blank">Egerton R. Young</a>. He took on missionary work in the frozen north, had little in the way of income, and ended up famous for his stories. </span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Alec's theory is that pets teach us the games they want to play, allowing us to think we trained them.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Young wrote fascinating descriptions of his special dogs. Jack was a character that could to the butcher shop and bring home the meat in a basket, after taking along the list and the money to pay for them. Another dog became the doctor for the other dogs and treated their wounds and sores. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Young's wife had her own dogsled, which she used to visit the native Indians in that part of Canada. The cold, snow, ice, and blizzards - carefully described - would make anyone marvel at the sacrifice and endurance of people and animals in the far North.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">As everyone knows, Sassy is all personality. She enjoys pranking me, and I see the delight in her eyes when she has turned the tables on me again. Ranger Bob is her enabler but she does well on her own.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">She makes a game out of jumping up on her bed (which she lets us use). She can effortlessly flow up to her spot. But if I am around, she needs to stop and whimper and ask for help. She got to the point one night where she took 15 attempts to get up on the bed but never jumped. I was getting peeved, so I saw down instead and petted her face.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Sassy grinned, because that is what she wanted. In fact, she glowed and smiled with affection. When she thinks I am short-changing her, she gives me the arrogant German Shepherd look, which makes me laugh and makes her scowl even more. But this was her affectionate puppy look. I got up and took my place at the computer. She sat down on the rug again with her head resting on the bed - she wanted more. I got up and petted her face and whispered about her great qualities. She had the biggest grin - or was she laughing inside and trying not to show it? I sat down at the computer again, because she did not want to jump up. She sat down a third time, looked over at me, and smiled. Eventually she made the jump, but she had me trained to spot her trick and pet her face, and tug on her ears.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Now Sassy knows she can get loveys from not jumping up on the bed, but sitting down with her head on the bed - aimed at me, "Time for pets!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Some other great animal books are <i>The Dog Who Wouldn't Be</i> by Farley Mowatt (another Canadian. I memorized the book, reading it first in elementary school.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6fAiNm3ksN1vxkHEUdHorE-0Ie-clJQL1pmR59dJXqHb1TTvVXO8ipuy_H3-qTa8kKweaeqkvJX8MANfJUi6F6KP6Pfja4QiVDrHGDEpj-s5eRpCWwt474BfrJJkf6drV2SCWyuDn1BVe/s605/mowat_the_dog_who_wouldntbe.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="384" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6fAiNm3ksN1vxkHEUdHorE-0Ie-clJQL1pmR59dJXqHb1TTvVXO8ipuy_H3-qTa8kKweaeqkvJX8MANfJUi6F6KP6Pfja4QiVDrHGDEpj-s5eRpCWwt474BfrJJkf6drV2SCWyuDn1BVe/w406-h640/mowat_the_dog_who_wouldntbe.PNG" width="406" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">And - <i>All Creatures Great and Small</i>, James Herriot, English vet, plus many other stories.</span></div><div><p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxojGa80qVvRALPxA-vtrGC2t16W4di810um5GnHUi6xWYNlN7JHy5nznROjkLKqqeRWbeMfRXh_HHC4vLAPEPC4Esy712gCs1-t-QhkB8hOKFexHQrofrDBEJRZaZBRmVtLnc4vDaqN3S/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="244" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxojGa80qVvRALPxA-vtrGC2t16W4di810um5GnHUi6xWYNlN7JHy5nznROjkLKqqeRWbeMfRXh_HHC4vLAPEPC4Esy712gCs1-t-QhkB8hOKFexHQrofrDBEJRZaZBRmVtLnc4vDaqN3S/w389-h640/herriot.jpg" width="389" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">===<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VgqKfGRT0PM" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><br /><p></p></div>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954011143007898521.post-72141779888861341362020-12-02T15:54:00.003-08:002021-01-28T19:49:52.207-08:00Sassy Smile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VF6yceGAHlxCk9iN-0cUme216_cbWT-wQA7gpDPcNespXVOWNVyYREwrCtCSmPD5lDInHJanOUMUpKBFthj8SwXfd0Oy7e6aXjyDX1axQQHjBNJGkofpU4K68iknLV-jCfANwPSM3OCD/s2048/sassy_smile.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VF6yceGAHlxCk9iN-0cUme216_cbWT-wQA7gpDPcNespXVOWNVyYREwrCtCSmPD5lDInHJanOUMUpKBFthj8SwXfd0Oy7e6aXjyDX1axQQHjBNJGkofpU4K68iknLV-jCfANwPSM3OCD/w640-h480/sassy_smile.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Ichabod the Glory Has Departedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03119183283328283096noreply@blogger.com0