I got a kick out of the post about the slobbering Golden being a problem. I

guess I never thought of it quite that way. If slobbering were a problem;

Earnie would be an epidemic. Dog slobber around here is a way of life. When

the sun hits the walls of our home--they sparkle! It's really quite pretty,

if you look at all the different colors--hues of blue, green, crystal

white--all deposited when Earnie shakes his head! Ah, yes, the *Family

Jowls*; as I once referred to them! When I was working my crew referred to

me as "Sparkle Plenty" because of the dog slime on my pants. My blue jeans

looked as if 200 slugs & snails got drunk and raced up my legs. While we're

at it, how 'bout those *dog kisses*? Earnie always leaves you with

something to take home with you. A lasting reminder of his everlasting love

for you. On a good day, he can slime your pants and then rub copious

amounts of dog hair into the slime. Looks like blonde velcro. Acts like

blonde velcro. Everything sticks to it. Patrick McManus referred to this

dog snot as "pupkus", I believe. I treasure it. I plan on bottling it. When

Earnie stops slobbering, I will check for vital signs. And--I hope he

continues to slobber for a long, long time!

Becky [Yeah, my head usually has a trail of Earniesnot down the middle of

it--yuck!]

Peggy Sue [We ladies have dainty jowls! We only slobber right after

drinking.]

Earnie [Whaddayamean bucket mouth? I can only carry 4 tennis balls at a

time. Or a gallon or so of "pupkus". How do you want the car windows

decorated this month?]

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

Most of you are aware of the nasty weather out here in the great NW. For

the last several days, we've had ice, snow, wind, freezing rain, etc.

Pretty good weather for Goldens. The fuzzbutts & I have spent a fair amount

of time enjoying this weather--at least, the dogs are enjoying it.

But--just when it didn't look like things could get any better, guess what!

It's warming up, [36 degrees] raining heavily, and the snow and ice are

melting rapidly. That means--flooding! **Ice water**, my dogs favorite

thing! Down to the meadow we go, trundling along in a foot or so of wet

snow. No meadow! Just a *lot* of fast moving, icy water, complete with huge

sheets of ice along the shores and floating downstream towards the lake.

Perfect! Becky & Earnie run out onto the ice which is too thin to support

them, splash happily into the swift ice water and attempt to retrieve large

chunks of ice. The ice is slushy and breaks apart--frustrating! Peggy Sue,

in the meantime, has discovered that all the rodents that normally live in

these fields are scurrying about on the shoreline just under the snow. She

is engaging in one of her favorite pastimes, "mouse munching"; which, by

the way, is something I discourage. Something about the crunching noises

and the high pitched squealing that bothers me. Yeah, I know, they're

hunting dogs. Just munch the mice away from me, thank you very much. Weak

stomach, I guess. Becky joins the Pigger in mouse hunting. This continues

for a couple of hours, we're all wet [and I really don't enjoy it as much

as the dogs] and cold. Time to go home. Into the garage, I towel off Earnie

first. Like trying to towel off an angry mountain lion. I turn him loose

into the house. I towel off the other two. They're easy. I walk into the

downstairs family room. It looks like a slaughterhouse! Blood everywhere!

Who's bleeding? Earnie has blown a pad. In true puppy style, he has managed

to place his cut foot in about 200 places all over the beige carpet. He's

still wound up from the toweling off, difficult to catch. Good thing I

watched Pro Rodeo the night they bulldogged steers. I wrassle the bugger

down and deposit him in a Vari-Kennel. If you're gonna bleed to death, do

it in there! He is now sporting a nice big bandage on his rear foot, which

he **does not** like. A few days out of commission. Oh, well. Life goes

on---!

Becky [**Ice water**! Oboy! Throw something, dad, I wanna retrieve!]

Earnie [This snow & ice are a hoot! Why does it make you grumpy, dad?]

Peggy Sue [Loves to munch the mousies, crunch their little feet, loves to

munch the critters, I kill 'em but don't eat--!]

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

Couple of months ago bought a pair of 2/3 sized latex rubber footballs for

the furkids. Thought maybe Earnie wouldn't destroy these. Tough finding

toys the "Dusky Destroyer" cannot fold, spindle, or mutilate. These things

have rubber nubbins, or knobs, all over them, and squeak when squeezed.

Look like they should be some sort of sex toy. Weird things. Turns out

they're a big hit with Peggy Sue. She carries them about carefully, like

they're alive; "talking" to them. She "nests" with them on the Futon, curls

herself protectively around them. Neither of the other two dogs seem to

give a hoot about them. Except Earnie, whenever Peggy Sue is occupied with

them. The instant Peggy Sue has these footballs, or any other toy for that

matter-- Earnie wants it. *Has* to have it. Cannot **stand it** until he

gets it. Never mind he normally pays *no* attention to it. Peggy Sue has

it, so he **needs** it. Peggy Sue may be tiny, but she's pretty gnarly. You

don't mess around with the Pigger. Ever mess with a mother goose protecting

nestlings? If you have, you didn't do it twice, did you? Peggy Sue has

three distinct zones around her when she's "nesting" with her rubber

footballs. The "Green Zone" which is anything at least 3 feet away from

her. No problem. All is calm. The second zone is the "Orange Zone"; which

is a caution area. Don't get closer than a foot or so. If Earnie enters

this space he receives **The EYE**! I wish I could learn this hard;

threatening stare. It even frightens me. Usually one of these "Eyeball

Messages" is enough to discourage the boy from filching a football.

However, if he really gets desperate enough--he enters the "Red Zone" which

is a combination of **The EYE**; **The LIP** [showing of upper teeth as if

to say "c'mon, Earnie make my day"] and if he really goes for it, Peggy Sue

will carry out her threat and produce **The TEETH**! In the event that the

violence escalates to **The TEETH** point, I, the "Alpha Dog" step in and

remove the footballs for the evening. If I put them up on the counter, both

blondes will sit below them for lengthy periods as if they can wish them

down. So far, it hasn't worked, but that doesn't discourage them. Blondes

will be blondes.

Becky [Would you look at those two idjuts? Now there's what I call a

"Blonde Moment"! Redheads rule!]

Peggy Sue [If that little P***ant messes with me **just one more time** I

will happily **perforate** the greedy football grabbin' gasbag!]

Earnie [Ohhhhhh she's got those footballs again. I gotta get those

footballs. Oh, man I **NEED** those footballs--! Maybe I can sneak up on

her---!]

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

BD I had clean windows below 40 inches. AD? Well---

BD I could open the car window at 60 MPH without a "hairstorm". AD? Hmmm--

BD I could walk into a room unnoticed. Now, my pants sparkle and shimmer

from the lovingly applied slime. People wonder who designs my clothes. Look

like Elton John.

BD I thought dog poop was something the damned neighbors dog did that

needed to be gotten rid of *right away* while grumbling to ones self. Now,

I'm smarter. I know that each pile of poop is important, and could be

medically significant. I check each pile to be sure everybody is healthy.

King Georges physicians were right.

BD I thought poop was inedible. Peggy Sue has taught me otherwise. It

actually occupies a very important rung on the food chain.

BD I had no idea a dog could *eat* a whole cotton rope, process it,

eliminate it and eat it again. Amazing.

BD my spectacles sat squarely upon my face. I rarely had to adjust them.

Now they're usually at some odd angle due to a particularly vigorous round

of "recliner chair Rugby" during which Earnie sat on my face. Don't ask.

Suffice it to say most eyeglasses aren't butt-rated to 75 lbs. I don't know

why somebody doesn't manufacture heavy-duty frames for dog owners.

BD I had "extra money" which could be spent foolishly for entertainment,

food, housing, etc. Now I have no spare money. It all goes to the dogs.

But--I don't need entertainment. The dogs provide that.

BD I purchased vehicles with *me* in mind. I used to drive Jaguar

Roadsters. Yeah, really. Now we have a damned mini-van because it's comfy

and safe for the dogs. From sport to spam. Ugh.

BD we bought carpet because we liked it. Now we buy something that doesn't

show the dog hair. Beige blah carpets.

BD I had no idea what a "sheath infection" was. Or how to treat it. I had

no idea what "expressing" anal glands was. Oh, the marvels I was missing.

Thank doG for AD.

BD I could hike until exhausted on a muddy trail, come home and only wash

*me*. AD? Three mud-buggers unfit to occupy the inside of our humble

domain. Garden hose & shampoo time! Have to save enough energy to shampoo

the dogs---!

BD I thought cats were pets. AD I learned they are really rambling woobies

that benefit from regular chasing and a good occasional sliming. Cat

Mousse, right?

BD I had no idea just how much sex appeal a stuffed teddy bear or couch

pillow has to an 8 month old "intact" male. Mind-boggling. I'll never look

at a couch pillow quite the same way again.

BD I thought "fixed" was a term relating to something in disrepair being

repaired. AD I cringe every time I hear that word, or the word "altered".

Makes my groin ache.

Funny thing is--I like it! Are there any Psychiatrists on the list? I'm

sure my head could use examining.

Earnie [I taught you a few things about adolescence, huh? hahahah! Remember

when *you* were a teen-ager?!?]

Peggy Sue [And you used to wonder why horse turds are referred to as *road

apples*; didn't ya! Now; you know--;-[

Becky [I taught you the true meaning of unqualified "love", right; dude?

And *that's* the truth. Just let me be near you.]

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

He's done it again. Just when we thought Earnie had run out of new &

ingenious ways to irritate Peggy Sue & Becky--he's come up with a new one.

When Earnie was "intact" [gad, I hate that word] he spent a fair amount of

the day being "amorous" with the girls. That is, if he wasn't making amour

with the couch pillows, his woobies, the throw rugs, dog beds, etc. He sure

spread himself around. I still check where I sit. Anyway, lately he's found

something that irritates a couple of grumpy bitches nearly as much as being

humped. When he's feeling his oats [which is about 20 hours out of every

day] he charges at the girls from the side, lowers his head, sort of

"squats down" and runs under them. This works best if they're not looking.

If he times it *just* right and stands up at the perfect moment, he can

carry them for about 10 feet or so before the retaliation begins. Earnie is

around 75 lbs. now, and *all* muscle. Including between his ears, I might

add. Poor sweet Peggy Sue is smallish, 55 lbs. and not nearly as tall as

Earnie. He really gives poor Pigger a ride. Her usual way of dealing with

Dozerboy is by being pretty vocal concerning her feelings. He drops her and

stands back out of range and--I swear--grins while she snarls at him! Becky

isn't as easy as Peggy Sue--when she gets her feet on the floor he'd best

be out of range of *The Red Bitch*! She's quick--and ruthless! This

morning he tried it on Becky and found himself on his back with her sitting

on him showing him **all her teeth**. He then gets this "whattid I do to

deserve this" innocent stricken look on his face--feigned innocence! Ah,

yes, constant entertainment. Very few dull moments in this house--!

Becky [Try that again and I'll remodel your face, you moron!]

Peggy Sue [Oof! Get out from under me, you bully! I'll sic Becky on you!]

Earnie [Three females in this house and they're *all* in menopause, I

swear! You guys are *no* fun!]

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 haven't had a good flame in a long time. This should do the trick. Based

on personal experience, Blonde dogs can't hunt. What makes me an expert,

some of you whose blood pressure is rising may ask? Easy. I have two

Blondes, and one Redhead. The Redhead is the best hunter. More conclusive

evidence than much of what I've seen during the latest political [ho-hum]

scandal! Maybe there's Govt. Grant money here----?

Every two years or so we are over-populated with Douglas Squirrels. Last

week I awakened to the sight of *10* squirrels feeding happily in the yard

below the bird feeders. I *knew* right away we had a serious squirrel

problem. You see, on a normal morning, there are *three* dogs to greet me

when I come out of the bedroom. On this particular day--only *two*--both

Blondes! Where's Becky? Hmmm. I hear "mewling" sounds from downstairs.

Uh-oh!! Becky has reached "Squirrel Saturation"! This is a dangerous

condition easily diagnosed by a lay person. Your dog will remain glued to

the patio door; ofttimes pushing so hard against the glass that their noses

take a 45 degree bend. If "Squirrel Saturation" isn't dealt with promptly,

your dog could suffer a permanent bend in it's proboscis. If you don't

think this is much of a problem, just wait until the next time your dog

sniffs your crotch. Or worse, someone elses. Another sign of "Squirrel

Saturation" is the bands of dog snot [pupkus] tend to rise on the glass as

the number of squirrels increase. Becky will lay down to watch only 3 or 4

squirrels. Interesting, but no big deal. But 10--she's standing; mewling,

whining, and **quivering** while sliming the patio door at the 30 inch

mark. If it becomes too difficult to view the squirrels through this layer

of snot, she'll stand up on her hind legs to better view the varmints

through the next available area of clear glass. OK. I knew it was time for

the *Great White Hunter* [yeah, *hunter*; NOT *humper*] to spring into

action! Out with the "Hava-Heart" live trap! Bait it with a combination of

peanut butter, sunflower seeds, and honey! No squirrel can resist! Problem

is, Becky *knows* about the trap and barks loudly every time a squirrel

gets near the trap! Scares 'em off. After a while, though, the squirrels

get used to the barking and we begin to pick 'em off. No doubt when we

catch one. Becky goes nuts. Even the *Blondes* react to the sight of a

caged squirrel. Once Becky escaped the house while a squirrel was in the

trap. Trap, squirrel--- flying lessons. Not pretty. The poor squirrels are

already frightened, they don't need a dog flipping the trap about. So far

this week we have "relocated" 6 squirrels to a nice park about 5 miles

away. Unfortunately, we have also trapped 4 of the biggest rats I've ever

seen [on four legs]. We had no idea there were rats out here in these

woods. The rats, sorry to say, did not get re-located. I have a hard time

killing anything. "Ratsassinations" aren't easy, but rats the size of these

we don't need. Be happy to ship the rats your way if you need 'em!

Earnie [I'll help chase squirrels--I even helped Becky get one once--but

I'd rather watch TV than lay next to that patio door all day. Becky is

possessed!]

Peggy Sue [I won't chase squirrels even if I get a chance. I like to sit

near them and watch them. Cute critters.]

Becky [OHMYGAWD there are 10

DAMNEDSQUIRRELSOUTTHEREANDIGOTTAGETTHEMWHATSAMATTERWITHYOUFOOLSCAN"TYOUSEETE

M???

Want--NEED to get a squirrel--ONE'S GETTING IN THE TRAP!!!! Arrrgghhhhhhhh!]

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

Ah! A phenomena we *all* live with, if we live with Goldens! Yeah, sure

there are those of you out there living in a state of denial saying "why,

*my* dog doesn't do this"! Riigghhht. Sure. In my never-ending quest for a

*BIG* Govt. Grant, I have studied many dogs, including my own. Crotch

sniffing crosses breed lines, and most certainly isn't limited to Goldens.

Even Pomeranians and Chihuahuas given the proper opportunity imbibe in this

obnoxious habit. Sure, sure, it's more difficult for these tiny breeds to

find short people to practice on. But with diligence, they too, will

succeed. Remember, "even a blind pig finds an acorn once in a while". Most

of my research has involved Goldens, however, so it is Goldens and their

habits I will report on. Crotch sniffing is a matter of style for most

Goldens. I will attempt to categorize these different styles. Your dog may

vary from these. If so, I would love to hear of your dogs variation on

these themes. I will begin the classifications with the least obnoxious,

invasive, and socially unacceptable styles.

[1] The Couch Cushion Snarfeluer. This dog has usually suffered serious

repercussions from utilizing one of the methods of crotch sniffing

described further on in this report. This is a smart dog! This dog waits

until the guests leave, and then ever-so-carefully snarfles over every inch

of the area the guests were seated upon. Actually, I consider this to be

somewhat socially acceptable. However, if your dog lingers too long in one

spot or begins licking the cushions you should consider seating those

guests in areas without upholstered furniture on their next visit. Your dog

has probably discovered a serious breach in hygiene.

[2] The Surreptitious Sniffer. This also is usually an older dog whose

learned that crotch sniffing can be dangerous. This dog waits until the

guests are standing in the hallway. The dog then makes a pass, preferably

on the blind side, with it's nose not-quite-touching the unsuspecting

individuals person. This dog then inhales deeply, while waving it's nose

from side to side to really get a good whiff. Where I at first considered

this methodology to be quite benign, I learned later it can actually be

very dangerous. A large dog in a small room can inhale so deeply the air is

sucked from the room, leaving a vacuum. The first sign of this as far as

the humans are concerned is a popping sensation in the ears, not unlike

being on an Airliner with a cowboy pilot who descends too rapidly during

landing. The creation of this vacuum isn't particularly dangerous--but

beware of the exhale! This can be pretty ugly, particularly if your dog has

an accumulation of "pupkus" in it's sinuses. The exhalation is abrupt,

accompanied by a loud "Brraaaaacckkk" noise--and copious amounts of

"pupkus" [dog snot, in lay terms]. Depending on which way the muzzle is

aimed, this can be very embarrassing.

[3] The Little Whiffer. Now we travel into the areas of particularly odious

behavior. The Little Whiffer is generally either a young dog not yet having

learned proper social graces, or just an older dog that has chosen to live

on the edge. Of course, in many homes, this behavior is considered normal.

Personally, I try to avoid these homes unless I wear my athletic cup. This

dog will dance in between the owner and the guest, usually making a frontal

approach. This dog is *quick*--the nose goes into the crotch, contact is

made, and the dog dances away one direction, the guest in another. When

reproached, the dog will curl it's lips in it's best "aw shucks, I didn't

mean no harm" grin while you, the owner attempts to regain your

self-control.

[4] The Golden Goose. I have named this particularly nasty form of crotch

sniffing after our beloved breed primarily because I have seen it performed

by Goldens many times, particularly at dog shows. This dog is sneaky. This

dog is a clown. This dog derives serious pleasure from this maneuver. Watch

the way the dogs eyes dance while performing this one. The dog approaches

from the rear; on a stealth walk. It positions itself directly behind the

unsuspecting subject. It stops, pulls it's head back with it's muzzle aimed

directly at the target--and strikes! Properly performed, this "Golden

Goose" can send a 200 pound man completely over a 30" X-Pen. If not

properly performed, the 200 pound man will usually come after the Giggling

Golden, sending it over the 30 inch X-Pen. This dog is a jester, and

derives enough pleasure from this to endure whatever pain you put it

through. Just wear cardboard shorts. The dogs not trainable.

[5] The Industrial Sniffer. This is my last category. You've all seen these

dogs. These are the dogs that just trot right up to you, front or rear,

plant their feet, push their noses between your legs about 10 inches below

the apex--and lift! Small people are hefted off the ground. Loose change

rattles out of your pockets. Lipsticks, cosmetic bottles bounce off the

walls. Formerly perfect hair-dos end up looking like Phyllis Diller with a

hangover. The biggest, strongest man is reduced to clutching his knees,

speaking in a voice reminiscent of small boys inhaling helium. Recovery

takes up to an hour. Usually the owners of these dogs say something like

"Gee, sorry! I've told him not to do that". While you wipe the tears from

your face.

OK, enough already. I've filed my report. Time to get to work on the next

facet of my research. Nope, can't tell you. It's a secret. The Mad

Scientist is working-----!

Becky [I'm sort of a "Little Whiffer" type. I've seen dad go Postal over

crotch sniffing--!]

Peggy Sue [I lurk, I wait, and when they least suspect it--I gets 'em!]

Earnie [My nose is SO BIG I don't have to get too close to tell what

they've been eating.]

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

Many of you know we have been live trapping Squirrels for the last week or

so. Too danged many of 'em. Today I took number nine [9] for it's Freedom

Ride. We take them all to the same local park about 5 miles from here.

Figure maybe they'll find each other. Start a gang, or something. There's a

freeway between us and the park. If they're smart enough to cross the

freeway to return--good on 'em. They can stay until next year at trapping

time.

The fun comes when releasing the squirrels. The dogs *know* when there is a

squirrel in the trap, they bark & carry on. So, when they know we're about

to make another "Rodent Run"; they insist on riding shotgun. Our Dogmobile

is currently a Plymouth Voyager. [blahmobile] The squirrel goes behind the

rear seat. Becky has tried to crawl under the seat to get at the critter a

few times, but she doesn't fit, so the squirrel is perfectly safe behind

that seat. The close proximity and the unmistakable *smell of squirrel* is

almost too much for Becky & Peggy Sue, though. They quiver and moan all the

way to the park. Earnie doesn't show much interest in the squirrel--he

knows he can't get it and is resigned to that.

OK--now we're at the Park. This is the *fun* part! I open the hatch back.

There are *three* dogs hanging over the back seat, totally riveted on

**that trap**! I've found that by holding the trap at about 45 degrees and

opening the high end, the squirrel will run out of the trap so fast it gets

about 10 feet of air before it hits the ground a'runnin'! If I could film

the looks on my dogs faces at the *moment of launch* I could easily win the

big prize on "Funniest Home Videos"! Their ears come up so high I swear

they touch together! All the wrinkles in Earnies big sad face are flattened

out! Peggy Sue makes this little "Whoof" sound! Ah, yes, they're easy to

entertain. I'll miss them when we're gone!

Becky [Once I dove over the seat at Launch Time! Really banged my punkin

head! Ouch! Won't do that again!]

Peggy Sue [Hey wow! Flying squirrels! Too cool!]

Earnie [I'm too big to fly over the seat. But if you ever give me a fair

start, you won't have to trap *that* squirrel again!]

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

Every so often the piddly subject of lawn spots comes up. Or down,

depending on your viewpoint. I can remember when I too, [yes! It's true!]

thought of lawn spots as [gasp!] offensive. I tried the commercial cures,

the home cures, re-seeding the areas, etc. After a year or so of fighting

lawn spots within my limited technology, it came to me that I have

something a lot of my less fortunate neighbors do not. Anybody can grow

plush, perfect lawns. Great sprawling pastures of verdant lush grass. Big

deal. Boorrriiinnnnggg. Ho-Hum. Ok. Look around your house. See any totally

blank walls? Naw. You hung pictures, tapestries, inserted windows, etc. all

to break up the monotony--didn't you? So, why do you same people become

anal over a few spots in the lawn? Think about it! My lawn, for instance,

is an ever-changing kaleidoscope--- yellow, brown, pale green, dark

green, in ever-changing patterns! Long skid marks, from chasing squirrels!

No two weeks are ever the same! It's **great**, I tell you! There are other

fringe benefits, too. For you pseudo-intellectuals, ponder these

conundrums. If pee turns the lawn yellow--then why doesn't poop turn it

brown? Why doesn't the pee kill the weeds, but only the grass? Why do my

male dogs pee spots turn the grass a different color than the girls? Do the

dogs follow a pattern? Maybe they're trying to tell us something, even

communicate by spelling out words in yellow blotches? Important stuff, like

"FEED ME"! This may not be random! So, next time you're feeling the blues,

stand on your deck and study the weeks history of pee spots. You may be

missing something.

Becky [I'm trying to spell out "here squirrel"! C'mon over and see me--hee

hee hee!]

Peggy Sue [If you'll quit collecting those lawn tacos, perhaps you'll

notice I'm trying to spell "Burrito". Then I'm gonna have lunch.]

Earnie [You guys are nuts. I'm just marking the boundaries.]

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

Got home from a trip on Friday. House has been empty for three weeks.

Cleaned the house good before we left. It should have been clean--? Oops!

It appears that during our absence, some sneaky devil managed to get past

the alarm system and detonate a *Hair Bomb* in each and every room. Either

that, or--[Gasp!] dog hair reproduces on it's own! At any rate, after

watching the Golden hair wafting through the sunbeams every time the

furnace came on, and realizing I'm breathing that stuff--it's time to get

out the **REAL** vacuum cleaner! Now, sorry if this offends anyone [ha ha]

but I get a chortle out of reading about the various vacuum cleaners

mentioned on this list. Names like "Phantom Fury"; "Dustbusters"; "Queen

Royals"; etc. OK, ladies, if you have trouble with a tad bit of

sexism--best tune out here! Here's a scoop--! Most Vacuum Cleaners are

purchased by--women! Therefore, the marketing professionals slant their

advertising to please the ladies! Now, once again, I don't mean to be

offensive here [yes I do!] but women buy vacuums the way they shop for

cars. How many cupholders does it have? Is it chromed? How many

attachments? Men, on the other hand are looking for one thing--**SUCTION**!

I remember shopping for my commercial machine! I walked into the vacuum

store with my wife, and was immediately attacked by a salesman resembling

Tom Selleck. "Is this machine for the lady?" He crooned. "Nope"; says I,

"spare me the sales pitch; dude--I want **SUCTION**!" This ones for **ME**!

Without further ado he led us out of the chromed doo-dad section, and into

the back room. He picked up a softball. He held the softball on one side of

a piece of chain-link fencing. He started a vacuum cleaner [all the lights

in the warehouse dimmed!] and held the hose on the other side of the fence.

The softball was sucked through the fencing with a satisfying "FLOOP"

sound. "I'll take it!" I exclaimed. "How much is it?" I asked. "If you have

to ask, you can't afford it"; says he. I whipped out my Gold Mastercard.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this card has a $15,000,00 limit"; says he. So I whip

out my Platinum Visa card with a $100,000.00 limit. "That should cover it";

says the salesman. Off we go towards home, my wife exclaiming how *ugly*

the machine is. Loud, too. Yeah, it's ugly all right! It's soooooo ugly,

it's the only thing in the house [except me; is there a message here?] that

Earnie hasn't humped yet. But does this ugly, squat little machine ever

**SUCK**! You have to maintain a fair distance from overstuffed furniture

or you lose cushions. Once we lost Peggy Sue for several days until I

cleaned out the tank on the vacuum. I find spiders in the tank that I'm

sure have been sucked through the sheetrock walls. Using this vacuum gives

me the same feeling of Macho as driving a big diesel truck! Men, don't let

your wives use these dangerous machines! Hopefully, your wives will react

as mine has and seem happy to let you do all the vacuuming you want.

"Whatever makes you happy; honey" she says! "Vacuum away to your hearts

content"! Great gal! Just one question--why does she giggle and mention

"Tom Sawyer" when I get this machine out?

Becky [Oh, Lord, here comes the master cleaner again. Where's my earplugs?]

Peggy Sue [Get away from me! Mom and her danged Royal are bad enough!]

Earnie [I like it! It's a "guy" thing--! Watch this tennis ball disappear!]

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