Great story about finding the deceased dogs tags. Some of the listers have

seen the story of Izzy, our deceased cat so I apologize to them if I repeat

this story, but it's worth re-telling. Izzy was Peggy Sues favorite thing.

Izzy was raised by hand, she was part of a litter of kittens found

abandoned on a dock near here. The local vet took the litter and raised

them by hand. At 7 weeks Izzy came home to us. Peggy Sue loved her from the

start, it took Becky slightly longer. Becky & Izzy had a love-hate

relationship. Izzy would intentionally ricochet off Beckys head while she

was sleeping, which never failed to piss Becky off. Izzy would pounce on

Peggy Sues head and ride around on her face biting her ears, looking like a

fur cap. We have photos of this. Sometimes Peggy Sue would get her fill of

the cats antics and grab Izzy by the head, carry her about ten feet, and

drop her! We moved to our current location about three years ago when Izzy

was a couple of years old. She was used to being outside and coming and

going as she pleased. We have a large coyote population at our current

location, so we tried to keep Izzy in at night. One night she slipped out

when my wife came home. She didn't return. After looking for her in vain

for several days, I took Becky outside, knelt down in front of her, looked

her in the eyes and said "find Izzy"! Becky immediately took off into the

neighbors back field, tracking like mad. She led me behind a large

woodpile, where there were bits of Izzys fur. Down the hill, and through

some brush, her tail going like mad. Then she dove into some brush

headfirst, and her tail stopped wagging. I will never forget the stricken

look she had in her eyes as she turned to look at me. She had found Izzys

tags, collars, and a piece of her lower jawbone. I brought the collars and

tags to the house, feeling pretty low. Becky was by my side, her body

language telling it all. Becky was heart broken. I placed the collars on

the kitchen floor. Peggy Sue came in and sniffed them. She, too, obviously

smelled death. Her whole demeanor changed, she looked positively grief

stricken. She lay down next to the collars, Becky next to her. They did not

leave those collars, they just laid next to them for several hours. I

firmly believe they were mourning. Possibly I'm being somewhat

anthropomorphic--but I know my animals. The mood of the household was

pretty grim for a few weeks. It never ceases to amaze me when people claim

animals have no feelings, or expressions on their faces. Yes, I believe in

dog angels.

Becky [I didn't really like that cat much, but I miss her.]

Peggy Sue [I lost my best friend. I still love cats. Why don't most of

them like me?]

Earnie [Can I have a cat? How do they taste?]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

This is a tale of competition. Sometimes, competition is good. Sometimes

not. You decide. I wanted a recliner chair for many years. All men like to

"nest" in a cozy recliner. It's another inscrutable "guy" thing. My wife

would not allow a recliner in the house. Claimed they were "tacky".

Huummph. Never ceases to amaze me how women will choose style over comfort.

Three years ago we moved into this much larger house. One of the conditions

was that I would be allowed any recliner I wanted, as long as it stayed

downstairs in the TV room. Sleazy, I know, but Michael really wanted this

house, so I had leverage! I bought the biggest, fanciest, most comfy

recliner I could find. It even has a door in the side that opens for

magazines and to hold drinks. A *really* tacky chair, so says my wife. But,

oh so comfy! Now, there are three pieces of furniture in our home the dogs

are allowed on. The futon, my recliner, and a recent addition, the upstairs

loveseat. The loveseat wasn't really our idea, Earnie was in it so often we

got tired of chasing him out. We gave up. The little pirate won. Oh well.

Becky & Earnie are constantly competing for my attention. Peggy Sue is

perfectly happy to take half the futon, where she can sprawl out nicely.

Not Earnie and Becky. They want to be in the recliner, with me. Becky was

used to sharing the chair with me before the interloper, Earnie, came upon

the scene. She was not tickled when Earnie demanded his share of

"chairtime". After dinner it became a race to the basement to see who got

the chair first--Earnie or Becky. Usually, Becky won out. She would lay

next to me, head on my chest, staring at me with unmasked idolatry; ever so

happy. Earnie would go into his "pest" persona. Shoving balls at us,

getting the FRAPs, earning his PITA nickname. One evening he discovered

that by leaping onto the extended bottom of the chair, both Becky & I were

catapulted onto the floor. I was not amused. I was less amused by my wifes

raucous laughter. I solved this little problem by propping a stool under

the bottom of the recliner. Earnie then tried to lay on the bottom of the

chair, below Becky. Not enough room. Now he has discovered that if he comes

alongside the chair, climbs over the arm, and lays crosswise on my chest,

both he and Becky can share the chair & I. The only problem with this is

that I have difficulty breathing, let alone seeing the TV over a stack of

dogs. To make matters worse, my wife thinks this is funny. I wonder if I

can get a bigger recliner? Any help out there?

Becky [Gedoutathat CHAIR you little freak. I was here first!]

Peggy Sue [Who says blondes are dumb? I get the futon every night--yawn!]

Earnie [I'm gonna bugya until I get whaddiwant. I'll stuff this ball in

your crotch and drop my chewbones on Becky until I get my way!

Hahahahahahah!]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

We're back from the beach! What a blast! The girls both celebrated their

B-days in grand style. November is not usually the best time to be at the

Oregon Coast--unless you like wind & rain. But---we nailed it as far as

weather was concerned. Four [4] beautiful windless days, highs in the 60s

and *sunny*! As an added bonus, the State Park we stayed in has over 100

spaces for RVs--and we were the **only** rig in the whole campground!

Parked the trailer right next to the beach trail. Took the dogs [on leash]

down to the beach. Nobody there! Leashes off! Rock & Roll! This was Earnies

first time at the beach--he looked left, he looked right--nothing but miles

and miles of sand! He had an absolute hoot! Becky taught him some of the

finer points of Seagull Relocation, one of her favorite pastimes. Earnie

helped her chase the first dozen or so---but he couldn't keep pace with the

"Red Menace of Seagulls"! Becky at age 7 is still faster than Earnie and

has more stamina. Earnie decided Becky was too much for him, so he looked

for Peggy Sue to see what she was up to. Peggy Sue discovered early on that

really nasty stuff washes up at the high tide line. She's always sniffing

through the rocks looking for something disgusting. If you yell at her she

cleverly grabs the nearest stick and runs out on the beach with it as if

that was the reason she was up there. Becky also tried to teach Earnie her

"Dredge Dog" trick. There's a creek that runs into the ocean next to the

beach trail. Becky wades into the middle of it about chest deep and sticks

her head under the water, finding "just the right rocks" to make a nice

pile on the beach. It's amazing how long she can hold her breath. Earnie

watched this for a while and decided to try it. Mistake! I don't think he

knows how to hold his breath. He came up snorting and spouting water from

his mouth & nose! After that, he decided to leave the dredging to Becky,

but he did inspect each & every rock she brought out to her pile. She

brought out 25 or 30 large stones, neatly stacked them, and then looked at

me and "ruffed" as if to say "I'm done now"! Off to chase more gulls--! The

furkids got beach time each day. On the second day we took them on a hike

through the dunes. This trail is marked with posts, as the sand is

continually shifting and covering the trail. I can think of no better place

for dogs to run free. At the three mile point on the trail is a pristine

fresh water lake, nestled in the dunes like a star sapphire. It's about 100

feet down a big dune into this lake. Should have seen 'em go! Down the

dune, lickety-brindle and SPLOOSH! Into the lake they went! I joined them,

although I stayed on the shore and threw sticks until my arm hurt. We then

hiked out through a gorgeous coastal forest, old growth trees, etc. What a

day! What a trip!

Becky [Hey, I taught the kid some new tricks, eh? It's tricky business, but

the gulls on the north end belonged on the south end, and the gulls on the

south end, well, ya know?]

Peggy Sue [I loves to play keepaway with a stick on the sand. I can juke &

jive with the best of 'em! Hey, Becky, what's Earnie up to? Looks like he's

got a guitar--?]

Earnie [On the road again, I just can't wait to get on the road again--!

Apologies to Willy Nelson, here--!]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

I have been reading the cat poop posts to my dogs. This is a subject of

great interest to them, BTW. Peggy Sue offers this advice: your dogs will

not stop eating cat poop, any more than you're likely to lay off chocolate.

Oh, sure, when some one's looking, you may abstain momentarily. Guilt,

appearances, et al. But privately, can you **really** lay off the bon-bons?

Of course not! In our household the humans were really disgusted with the

cat-poop habit, particularly the part when the dogs come into the house and

belch loudly and fragrantly in the vicinity of your face. Poop eating we

can deal with, bad manners, never! Here's the deal--teach your dog how to

use a table napkin while browsing the bark dust, and how to cover their

mouths with a paw when belching. If your dogs are perusing the litter box,

a little training with a knife & fork should go a long way. Ever notice the

remarkable resemblance kitty-poo has to Tootsie-Rolls, BTW? Admit it, they

*do* look good! Were I a canine, I doubt I could resist, either!

Becky [I'd rather chase the cats than eat their leavings! Track coach,

that's me!]

Peggy Sue [ I spend hours luring them into the bark dust beds---and you

chase 'em away, you red idjut! How would dad feel if you were chasing the

ice-cream man? Dummy!]

Earnie [Well, geez Becky, I know you're alpha & all that, but hey, I gotta

go with Peggy Sue on this one. Here, kitty; kitty!]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

I just knew that someday this would happen. You live in a house with three

Goldens, sooner or later you take on some of their characteristics. This

can be good, this can be bad. You be the judge! Out of the three dogs,

Becky and Earnie suffer from chronically impacted anal glands. Peggy Sue

has all the other Golden problems, but at least she doesn't stink. Much.

Unless she's been grazing on turf tacos; or "kitty roca" as some clever

list member calls it. So, every once in a while, usually during bathing

Becky & the Earnster, I "express" those pesty anal glands. Needless to say,

not a pleasant operation for anyone, me or the dogs. Generally one

"expression" is good for a week or so before one of them unloads some of

that wonderful "Eu De Stencho" on whatever piece of furniture they are

presently Bogarding. Last night, it happened. Michael, my ever-so-patient

wife, has a lower threshold for the marvelous odor of anal sac secretions

than I do. If I smell it--it's already gone past the critical reeking

point. The scene: kitchen, dinner time, dogs under foot, Michael attempting

to cook dinner without falling over one of the dogs. They cleverly sneak

behind her in hopes she'll drop whatever food she's cooking on the floor if

tripped. Sometimes it works. "PPPPP----UUUU---eeeeeeeee!" Exclaims Michael.

"Someone stinks"! "I bathed today"; says I. "Not you, you idiot, one of the

dogs really smells bad!" Which one?" I ask. You guessed it, down on her

knees, sniffing both Becky & Earnie while I howled with laughter. Turned

out to be Earnie, who looked a bit surprised to have his rear sniffed by

the alpha human female. I'll never let her forget it---oh, for a camera at

a time like this---<VBG>!

Becky [What's she doing on the floor? I'm the head butt-sniffer here!]

Earnie [OK, so I stink a bit--big deal! Oh, no, here comes dad with the

rubber glove--I'm outa here!]

Peggy Sue [Well, obviously, I'm the only lady in the house. I cannot

believe this! Dad, why are you laughing?]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

Poop eating. This is a subject that just never seems to go away, isn't it?

In the past Peggy Sue has been reticent to offer any insights into this

curious practice. However, in the giving spirit of the holidays, she offers

her advice. Ok. Just who is Peggy Sue, and what are her qualifications,

aside from 6 long years of experience? Here goes: Peggy Sue; TFG [The Fecal

Gourmet] POP [Princess Of Poop] EOE [Expert On Excrement] SOS [Sargent Of

Scatology] QOTCB [Queen Of The Cat Box] SED [S*** Eatin' Dawg; an honorary

degree]. As you can see, for those of you impressed by lots of letters

after a name, Peggy Sue is well qualified to speak on this subject.

Here we go.

Scotty: "Peggy Sue, just what is it that you like about eating Lawn Tacos?"

Peggy Sue: "What is it you humans like about Liverwurst? Pickled Herring?

Anchovies, for gosh sake?"

Scotty: "Point well taken, but can you perhaps explain in more detail?"

Peggy Sue: Well, OK. I think it's the texture. The way it just melts in the

mouth. The way it just rolls around the tongue, ya know what I mean?"

Scotty: "No".

Peggy Sue: "Well, it's a bit like Ice Cream, only not so cold if eaten

fresh enough. You gotta move fast in freezing weather, the true connoisseur

cannot stomach poopsicles. OK for a snack, but--."

Scotty: "OK, ok, guess I've got the general idea. Is there **any** way to

stop you from eating your Burm Burritos?"

Peggy Sue: "I'm willing to share a few of the remedies you've tried with

the rest of the G&H list. Some worked, some didn't. For starters, there was

the time you put spinach in my food. That was good! Excrement Alfredo! Next

time, how 'bout some Pesto Sauce? And, hey, the Jalapeno Peppers you added

to the food! Mexican cuisine! Burm Burritos! Next time, more cheese!

Adolphs Meat Tenderizer! Wow! Added texture! That was *really* good the

second time through! All those "commercial" cures for stool-eaters. Didn't

phase me, they don't change the taste or the texture much. Sure padded some

rich guys wallet, though, right?"

Scotty: "OK, so there were a few failures. How about sharing some of the

successes with the list?"

Peggy Sue: "You asked for it. Remember, some of these sorta "backfired" [no

pun] on you! Remember the time you brought me in the house right after I

pooped and then turned a mousetrap upside-down with the trigger set, and

piled the poop on it? By the third time it went off on ya, I bet you wished

you had Scuba Gear on! Haha! Remember the time you used a rat-trap? Kinda

overdid it, right? Is that neighbor speaking to ya yet? I gotta admit, the

"Flying Feces" stunt startled me a bit, though. Then there was the time you

sprinkled my scat with 151 proof rum, and lit it! You really shoulda told

mom you were gonna do that. She was way pissed when she ran outside and

stomped it out. I do admit that "Feces Flambeau" doesn't appeal to me,

though. But, it just isn't practical to follow me around with a bottle of

rum. Hey, the neighbors are talking behind your back! Bottom line: I like

it, I'm gonna eat it! So, give it your best shot, big guy! Hahahahahah!"

Becky [Well, now, if this isn't just about the most tasteless post to the

list in recent weeks, I dunno what qualifies--!]

Earnie [Both my sisters is nuts, nuts, nuts. Anyway, all that's mentioned

is doggie doo. What about all the other varieties of scat available? Deer,

horse, mule, elk, rabbit, goat, etc. etc.?]

Peggy Sue [Earnie, you have no taste. This was a listing for connoisseurs,

not binge eaters!]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

It's been a couple of months since Earnie was "fixed". BTW, anybody care to

enlighten me on why we use the term "fixed"? "Fixed" seems to infer

something was broken--believe me, everything on Earnie was working just

fine prior to "fixing". Sorta made me jealous. Anyhow, now that he's ceased

humping the furniture, Peggy Sue, Becky [humping Becky was pretty

dangerous] throw rugs, his dog bed, and poor hapless Hump-D-Bear; I think

he's bored. No matter he walks 4 miles a day, chases tennis balls off lead

through fields until he drops. Still comes home and acts booorrreeedd. So

he's decided to go into agriculture. Once, long ago, my back yard had grass

in it. Beautiful, lush, healthy green grass. Peggy Sue and Becky left a few

pee spots, but that was all. No holes, no divots, no boggy areas. The girls

did little lawn damage. I had grass. Alas, no more. Earnie has one speed

when he goes outside. Warp speed, full throttle. Up the hill he goes, does

a flip turn off the chain link fence---and lickety-brindle down the hill,

make the 90 degree turn around the corner of the house! Sometimes he

"drifts" this corner, and slams into the fence. If he's able to negotiate

the turn at *top speed* he runs to the other end of the yard--and puts on

the brakes. Not just slows down--he locks up all 4 feet and slides toward

the fence. Sometimes he gets a little air before applying the brakes. On a

real wet day [most days here in the NW] he can slide several feet, turf

flying all different directions. Earnie's feet are about the size of a

Grizzly Bears, so damage is *not* minimal. I'm beginning to wonder if the

humping was so bad after all---<sigh>. By spring the local Jeep club can

use my yard for their mud runs.

Earnie [Get the camera dad--I'm gonna rip off a new record!]

Peggy Sue [Oh, wow! Six feet, four inches! Great divot, dude!]

Becky [I see a divot all right. A big, blonde divot!]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

After a cold hike with the dogs, nothing warms the bones like a nice,

relaxing soak in the hot tub! Once, long ago; B.E. [before Earnie] we could

just step into the tub, and relax! Peggy Sue & Becky would languish nearby

while we relaxed. Very peaceful. No more. Earnie; A.K.A. the "Hot Tub

Terrorist", fashions what should be a leisurely soak into another

adventure! He's learned that dropping objects into the hot tub when it's

occupied results in said objects being rejected; sometimes at high speed.

Neat game. Just ask Earnie, the little pest. Yeah, we could leave him in

the house, but he lays by the patio door and alternately mopes and barks

when you make eye contact. Poor **sad** face, you couldn't resist letting

him out, either. Anyway, today I did a yard search before getting into the

hot tub. Figured if there wasn't anything out there to drop in the tub,

he'd just lay down with the girls and leave me be. I removed chew bones,

tennis balls, sticks, two different sized Kongs, etc. The *only* object I

didn't bother with is a full-sized basketball signed by--Darrell Dawkins!

[Is this old, or *what*?] I didn't figure Earnie would bother with it, he

never has. This is Peggy Sues ball, we shout "get Darrell Dawkins"! And

Pigger attacks the B-Ball with great gusto. Sorry, Darrell. Nothing

personal. So, into the tub I go. Ahhhh! Feels so good! I hear a lot of

commotion, scratching, etc. from below the hot tub. I look over the edge

just in time to receive a wet, filthy B-Ball right in the face! Earnie was

so proud, all I could do was laugh. He really worked at it, but he managed

to get that B-Ball in his bucket sized mouth. I threw the ball out. He

plunked it back in. The game continued until I got out--Earnie *never*

tires of Hot Tub Fetch. Adds a whole new meaning to "slam dunk"! Gotta love

'em, eh?

Earnie [Hey, dad, who the heck was Darrell Dawkins, anyhow?]

Peggy Sue [Everybody knows the answer to that, you dummy. Darrell Dawkins

is an old, slightly lumpy basketball we found years ago on a hike! I've had

Darrell for over five years! I **loves** to attack him! Grrrr!]

Becky [Bad news, Peggy Sue. Earnies found Darrell Dawkins. Hope he treats

him better than the woobies. Remember Hump-D-Bear? That was too, too

gruesome.]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

Sat. afternoon, quiet day, back from celebrating the holidays. Dogs

settling back in after a few days at the kennel. Earnie & Peggy Sue here at

my feet in the 'puter room. Becky downstairs with my wife "helping" clean

the carpets. Cleaning carpets is something you do *a lot* with three

Goldens. I hear the carpet cleaning machine shut off. After a minute or two

of complete silence, Earnie decides to go downstairs. Thumpity-thump,

thumpity thump. Then---it happened! ROWFROWFROWF! Earnie bellows in his

most distressed Basso Profundo voice. Peggy Sue runs to the rescue.

YAPYAPYAPYAP! Shrieks the Pigger in her Soprano voice. By this time the

whole household was moving. Must be a burglar! Or worse! Becky ran past me

to check out the action. Picture two dizzy blondes completely panicked

barking down a dark hallway. Becky turned around and gave me her best "oh,

good grief" look. Michael had left the Singer Carpet Cleaning Machine

"lurking" in the downstairs hallway. Now, on a good day, this thing ain't

pretty. Looks like a pot-bellied stove on wheels. R2D2 with an attitude.

But in a darkened hallway, I have to admit it appeared downright sinister.

No matter how loud Earnie & The Pigger barked, or how quickly they

charged--the evil entitity refused to budge. Their ferocious charges

stopped just short of contact with this evil apparition. Brave stalwart

individuals that we are, Becky and I saved Earnie & The Pigger from the

sinister Singer. Michael was laughing too hard to help with the rescue. I

put R2D2 back in the closet. All is well.

Becky [What a couple of doofusus. Now *that's* what I call a blonde moment!]

Peggy Sue [Hey, if my big bad brother was that freaked out, I *knew* that

thing was really evil!]

Earnie [Holy Cow! That was really close! Look at the size of the nose on

that monster! I saved ya again, hey dad?]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA

I'm wondering if Earnie is unique; or if other listers have this situation?

Earnie discovered that the dishwasher, being a front-loader, is a prime

source for snacks when Michael loads dirty dishes. I swear, he can hear

that dishwasher door opening from *anywhere* in the house. He'll come

a'runnin', first checking to see if the dishes are dirty or clean. He knows

the difference, and he *knows* better than to lick clean dishes. Serious

trouble is the result! Mad Michael! But--if they're dirty, fair game!

Whoever designed Kitchen-aid didn't have a dog. The tray for the silverware

is right at chin level on a Golden Retriever. Earnies big sloppy licks

result in dirty silverware getting flipped out onto the floor, where he

checks each piece for possible goodies. No need for a pre-wash cycle in

this house! This is the point at which I usually hear "Earnie, dammit"; as

Michael scuttles about the kitchen chasing silverware. I bet Earnie thinks

his name is "Earnie Dammit Richardson". One things for sure --things will

*never* be the same around here while the Earnster is around! Gotta love

'em!

Becky [What a glutton! I would *never* do that! Wish I'da thought of it---!]

Peggy Sue [How come he doesn't get in Dutch for licking silverware? They

yell at me when I eat poop! Discrimination!]

Earnie [Mmmmmm! I like whatever this stuff was you had for dinner!]

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA

Living in SW Washington State; USA