OK, to save time and cyberspace, I will collectively answer the many of you

asking just WHAT is this **MONSTERVACUUM** I found. Ok--- I'll share this

with you-- but I won't be responsible for injuries--the brand is

"Minuteman" and they are strictly a commercial machine. I don't believe

they make homeowner models. Probably have to purchase one at a tool outlet.

I bought mine from a local wholesale house before I retired and still had

access to my commercial accounts. They make several models, the largest and

most powerful having [YEE-HAW!!!!] **two** motors that can be used either

together or singularly. One must start each motor individually or you

*will* blow a 20 Amp breaker. We used these where I used to work, we were

**not** kind to them! They held up very well under almost daily industrial

use in every manner conceivable. Including usage by idiots, of which we had

no shortage. They are wet-dry, of course. The vacuums, not the idiots. The

model I bought for home use is a one-motor model. Not very large, but it

does have a **lot** of suction. OK, so maybe we didn't lose Peggy Sue, but

it'll pick up nails, screws, bolts, and actually lift the wall-to-wall off

the pad. The two motor model, well--might need a handler with that baby.

Might even need a license to use it. <VBG> I paid [I think] maybe $500.00

for mine, the biggest one was around $700-800.00 and damned well worth it.

Happy vacuuming! That's the last you'll hear on this subject. It sucks.

Becky [I remember when dad brought the two-motor sucker home after mom

flooded the basement.]

Peggy Sue [Yeah, we had our own private pool and he sucked the whole thing

up with that danged thing.]

Earnie [That was before my time, huh? You mean that screaming red thing has

a BIG BROTHER? Now **that's** scary!]

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 thought I'd run this past the listers--we now have our travel plans for the month of

April/May/June pretty well firmed up. There's a better than even chance we'll be near some of

you somewhere along the way. Mayhaps we will get a chance to meet some of you *in

person* if things click into place. Unfortunately, the really interesting family members, Becky,

Earnie, and The Pigger will not be making this particular journey with us. I can hear the

collective sighs out there already. Sorry. The first few weeks of this journey will be spent in a

canoe floating blissfully [we hope it doesn't snow] down the Green River in Utah. No dogs

allowed. We plan to be off the Green River and into Moab, Utah on the 4th of May. If all goes

well we will be cleaned up and ready to head out highway 70 towards Denver on the 5th of

May. We will continue up Route 70 passing through Kansas City; St. Louis Missouri;

Evansville; and on into Owensboro Kentucky where we plan to visit friends for a few days.

We hope to be In Owensboro on May 8th/9th. Tentatively leave Owensboro around the 12th

of May, heading for Kalamazoo, Michigan to visit my sister. We go through Louisville on Hwy

64 then hit hwy 65 through Columbus, Ohio on into Idianapolis, Indiana; then onto hwy 69

through Fort Wayne, Indiana-- then a turn onto hwy 94 and into Kalamazoo, Michigan. We

should be leaving Kalamazoo around the 20th of May, heading home. The return trip is loose,

we have no plans to speak of. Just a lot of driving. I try not to push more than 300 miles or so

daily, we do like to stop along the way and see the sights. I'm retired. Doesn't matter if it takes

a couple of weeks to get home, just need to be home around the 1st or 2nd week of June as

our second [and last] grandchild is due about then.

The home route takes us around Chicago, Ill. and onto hwy 94 past Rockford, into Madison,

Wisconsin. Continue on 94 through Minneapolis-St. Paul, then through St. Cloud, into Fargo

N. Dak. Continuing through Bismark, Dickenson, Miles City, and on to Billings, Montana.

From there, we switch to hwy I-90 headed for Bozeman, Butte, Missoula, and on into

Spokane, Washington. Then on to Pasco-Kennewick, down the Columbia Gorge--and

**HOME**! Whew! Makes me tired just thinking about it.

If it works for any of you, we would love to see some of these anonymous faces we've

communicated with for the last three years. Be forewarned--the combined length of our truck

& trailer is around 55 ft. so we aren't real capable of fitting into small spaces. But, if you have

a big driveway, and an extension cord, heck, we ain't proud! We will have our cell phone with

us so communication won't be a problem if we get near some of you to warn you of our

presence in the area. If the police haven't already done that!

<VBG>

Becky [Oh, wow we get to stay with Linda again!]

Peggy Sue [I miss Deja and Mikey when I'm home!]

Earnie [I like the huge fenced back yard where I run and tear up grass to

my hearts content!]

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 another subject that pops out somewhat regularly. [Pun intended] Normally, I don't

respond to these inquiries about how best to rid ones lawn & property of Lawn Fruit. Burm

Burritos. Turf Tacos. I figure you should be smart enough to know how. Tonight, you're

lucky. You caught me in a particularly ebullient mood. I must warn you--what I'm about to

share with you is privileged information. Due to some minor problems with local law

enforcement, I must decline answering any inquiries as to how I know of these things. I just

do, that's all. Actually, this all started because of a particularly anal neighbor who was upset

just because he suspected we were tossing a few turds into his well manicured lawn. Would I

be capable of that, I ask this list? Of course not!

Poop disposal can be *creative*. You have to think beyond Doggie Doolies, burying it,

flushing it, etc. There *are* alternatives. I'm about to share one with you. OK. Fill a 5-gallon

bucket about 3/4 full of Lawn Tacos. Fill the bucket the rest of the way with a few doll heads,

road kill, [squirrels, possums, etc.] broken glass, last weeks left over dog hair, a few walnuts

[whole] maybe an apple or two, whatever. A little food color can't hurt, either. Make it red and

bloody looking. Mix well. Be sure the mixture has a nice texture, about like bread dough. Get

ready for some **fun**! Might wanna have a few beers, here. Now---in the darkest; wee hours

of the morning, take your bucket full of excrement and a short piece of 4" pipe over into a

dark area of your neighbors lawn. *Squeeze* the contents of the bucket through the pipe. Sort

of like a giant pasta maker. Be creative. I prefer ribbon style designs, myself, although a

straight line will cause it to appear that whatever left this tremendous turd may have been badly

frightened. Be sure to taper the ends for authenticity. Go home. At this point, you have several

alternatives.

1. Do nothing. It can be real fun watching the results the next morning.

2. Leave a few *large* three toed footprints in the neighbors flower beds. Point them out to

your neighbor. Maybe sprinkle some Bacon Bits around first and turn your dogs loose so they

sniff a lot. Looks authentic.

3. If you're the theatrical type [I like this one] make sure your mixture is warmer than the

outside air so it steams a bit. Makes it look fresh. After making your deposit; shriek and run

around outside in your pajama bottoms. Be sure your dogs are barking hysterically. Muttering

"kitty" or "squirrel" under your breath to your dogs generally works. It does with my dogs.

Claim you saw something **huge and hairy** running across your neighbors lawn. When he

claims you're nuts, point out the evidence. Call the local press. They'll believe anything. Heck,

out here in the NW I've had them looking for the "Sasquatch" for about 30 years now. Need

any more ideas? E-Mail me!  

Becky [Oh no! Now he's telling the list our secrets!]

Peggy Sue [Hey, remember when the neighbor ran out and stepped in it?]

Earnie [I *did* see the Sasquatch, I *know* I did----!]

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

Things I learned in one five-minute session from my dog today:

When she comes running towards you from the woods and is covered with Yellowjackets [wasps] you will likely get stung.

I learned I can't outrun either the Yellowjackets or the dog.

I learned it's good to carry antihistimines when you hike.

I learned that your wife and friends will not hang around to help you get rid of the bees.

I learned that neither will your other dog who ran away with your wife and friends.

I learned that you can suffer secondary injuries from running through the bushes away from the bees.

I learned to carry a compass to find my way back to the trail because you may have to run a long way to get away from the bees who are hitching a ride on your dog who is following you through the bushes.

Scotty [Lumpy] Richardson [NO! NO! Go AWAY! I don't want to meet your little

friends! OUCH! OUCH!]

Becky [ Hey, these little varmints are nasty! Dad! HELP!!!!]

Peggy Sue [Feet, do your thing! I'm Outa here!]

Wife and [former] Friends [Outa the way Peggy Sue or we'll run over you!]

They watch squirrels. Birds. Cats. Other dogs. School kids walking by. They watch TV if the

subject interests them. They're discriminating in their tastes of TV programs. Most of the stuff

on TV isn't suitable for anybody with an IQ as high as my dogs. They know this. They tend to

stick to the Discovery channel, or other nature programs. They don't think Roseanne is funny,

either. I work nights. Usually get home around midnight. I can drive the truck in the [attached]

garage, walk noisily through the laundry room into the downstairs family room [their lair] and

not wake them up. Only when I pat them on the heads do they awaken and do the "happy dog

hula" as my wife puts it. The Bosnian army could go through here. They wouldn't know it

unless the soldiers had food in their pockets.

Trucks don't awaken them. But a potato chip bag being opened three doors down will

instantly bring them to life. Priorities, priorities. I like it this way. The doorbell will elicit

*instant* response, though.

Bark, bark, bark. Unless I whisper "Pizza Man" at which they instantly shut up and enter a

state of reverence. They like the Pizza Man. He brings "pizza bones" [crusts].

Watchdogs? I'd hate to depend on it. But they make up for it. What lovers----!

Becky [Pizza bones? Did I hear pizza bones? I like those almost as much as

horse

apples--!]

Peggy Sue [You want me to watch for the pizza man? Does that make me a

watchdog?]

For all of you Golden puppy owners out there--don't despair if your pup is making you nuts!

There is hope. I will review a few of Earnies more memorable moments for those of you with

poor memories. I will never forget the time he ate the leg off one of my wife's newly

upholstered Antique Chairs. That's as close as he's come to the dog pound.

The time he ingested an entire Cotton Rope 2 ft. long and 3" in diameter. Luckily, he managed

to puke it up without it killing him. Unluckily, he managed to target vomit 18" of remodeled

rope and yellow bile in the middle of the beige carpet.

The random mutilations of *all* the girls stuffed toys. That was bad. What was worse, he ate

the woobie guts. Pooped piles of polyester. Kaboodles of Kapok. Threw up indigestible

woobie guts in the middle of the night in the middle of the bedroom carpet. Ah, yes, the

wonder of waking to the melodious sounds of "Hic-UUURRRP Hic--UUURRRPPP--

uuurrrpppp". No alarm clock or atomic bomb can bring me out of a sound sleep faster than

the sound of a puking puppy. Thank God we didn't allow him to sleep on the bed.

Then there was the Humping. Prior to "dingleberry removal" and the ensuing reduction of

Testosterone; nothing was sacred. Peggy Sue. Becky. Pillows. Throw Rugs. Any stuffed toy.

Bedspreads. I didn't even care for the twinkle in his eye when he looked at me.

The continual F.R.A.P. s. Ricocheting down hallways, through doors, doing flip turns off the

Futon--80 lbs... of out-of-control idiocy. You could hear the "huff-huff-huff" coming at you.

Get out of the way. His braking system was never all that great. Got taken out several times.

Usually the fact that you, the so-called master was now laying in a mumbling heap would slow

him down, though. Until he figured out to just use your prone body for a low hurdle.

Of course, I could go on and on. Ah, yes, the memories! Earnie is now a little over 20 months

old. Aside from occasionally humping Peggy Sue, who causes it by being overly fractious and

leaping on his neck like Dracula Dog--most of his childish behavior has stopped! The funny

part is, the growing up just happens. One day you wake up and realize--he's acting like a dog!

He's growing up! There is light at the end of the tunnel! The obedience school is kicking in!

So, if you are raising a pup--and you don't know if you can stand much more--don't despair.

Soon your dog too, will grow up. When he does, you know--I think you're going to miss

some of those antics. I know I do.

Becky [I don't miss some of those antics. Little idiot. Now he's just a big

idiot.]

Peggy Sue [Boy does it cheese me off when he humps me! I was just biting his

neck a little bit!!]

Earnie [Is it OK if I still occasionally get the F.R.A.P.s? I promise not to

run you over again.]

A strange thing has happened in the Richardson house. Many strange things occur here, sure,

but this one involves the dogs. Thought you needed to know. Peggy Sue has developed a split

personality. First; a snippet about each dog. I shall wax anthropomorphic for a moment to

help you understand each dog.

---Becky; my Reddog; were she human would wear men's plaid workshirts, frequent beer

joints, engage in arm-wrestling competitions and smoke unfiltered Camels.

---Earnie; my adolescent 80-lb.. love sponge; would be on the high school football

team; probably a fullback, and be voted most popular student in the school yearbook. Easy

going, never gets mad.

---Peggy Sue; 50 lb. blonde pixie, would wear pink petticoats, hoop skirts, dangly earrings,

paint her toenails, bathe twice daily and read Martha Stewart books. High tea each afternoon.

Ever the lady. 

Perhaps it's just spring and Peggy Sue is feeling her oats. I don't know. You be the judge. In

the evening, while we watch the news or sometimes a movie in the family room, Earnie makes a

practice of packing several balls around in his oh-so-slimy bucket-mouth. These he

periodically shoves under your legs, into your crotch, armpit, or sometimes your face. This he

does in hopes of getting you to **throw the ball** so he can run down the hall and fetch it.

Usually I throw the ball before I throw a fit. Not always. This has become a family tradition,

along with the resulting shiny dog-snot [pupkus] patches on our daily clothes. For many

months Peggy Sue has merely watched Earnies antics from the safety of the Futon, where she

snoozes alongside her favorite person, my wife, Michael. Until the last week or so. Every

evening lately she watches Earnie for a while--then leaps from the Futon, puffs out her puny

little chest, and "Roo-Roos" loudly. This is a sign she has switched personas. She has gone

from demure, sweet, ladylike Peggy Sue--to Peggy Sue, Princess of Pestilence, Purveyor of

Pugnaciousness--Dracula Dog! She *slinks* over behind the door while Earnie is down the

hall--her tail straight out, her nose pointed, her front foot in the air like a bird dog on point.

Nothing moves except her eyes. Poor, unsuspecting 80 lb. musclehead Earnie trots down the

hall toward us, happily fetching his ball. Then--it happens!! Peggy Sue, "The Killer Canine",

leaps out from behind the door as high as she can go, arches her back, and bites the much-

taller Earnie right on the scruff of his neck. This is of course, accompanied by fierce sound

effects. Sorta like watching Woody Allen take on Arnold Schwartzenegger. Earnie is a pretty

patient guy. He puts up with the first bite, usually doesn't drop any of the several balls he's

packing down the hall. Peggy Sue backs off, and *attacks* again. This time he drops a ball.

Peggy Sue attacks yet a third time! OK, that's it, Earnie drops *all* the stuff out of his mouth

and prepares to defend himself! He goes into what we laughingly refer to as "Horsy Boy",

bucking and jiving and bumping Peggy Sue around with his big butt. Never any biting. Not on

his part. If Peggy Sue chooses to continue with her fractious behavior, it's----*HUMP TIME*!

Earnie goes for position! If he can get behind her and get those big strong front legs of his

wrapped around her--she's toast! So, at this point, Peggy Sue not being particularly fond of

being humped, goes into defense! If she's close to the Futon she leaps up next to my wife.

The futon is a *no humping zone* and Earnie knows it. Pigger bares her fangs in victory when

she escapes! Last night, though, she ran to the wrong end of the room trying to escape "Horsy

Boy". Earnie in hot pursuit. Trapped! Cornered! Oh no!

Then--she spotted the recliner in which Becky & I were currently lazing. Without hesitation she

leaped over the arm of the chair right onto my face and chest. Somehow during this maneuver,

she managed to turn 180 degrees-- fangs toward Earnie. All I remember was my vision

disappearing in a cloud of butt-feathers.

Loud snarls from Peggy Sue. More snarls from Becky who didn't appreciate being leaped

upon. It worked, though. Earnie went back to chasing the ball. Peggy Sue went back to the

Futon. My wife eventually got over her hysterics. I picked dog hair out of my mouth and off

my glasses for the next hour.  

Becky [Hey! The recliner is **not** a combat zone! Get off, you dufus!]

Peggy Sue [Ha! Save me dad! The White Humper is loose!]

Earnie [You pestilent little white puke. First I'm gonna whup ya, then hump

you

into submission! If I can catch ya!]

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 an admission to make. Could get me kicked off the list. At least flamed.

Flame away, by now most of you know that flaming me has the same effect as urinating on a

waterfowl. The admission is: I, too have lost my temper while dealing with a dog. I'm curious

as to how many on this list of 2000 can honestly say they have *never* lost their temper with a

dog? I have never lost it to the point where I physically abused the dog. Close, though. Real

close. I also pack around some less-than-memorable moments I would dearly like to have

back--for a second chance. I won't get a second chance. What I've done, I have to live with.

Anybody else packing a little guilt over reacting badly to a handling situation with their dog?

Most of my temper tantrums were early on--years ago. Before I had much experience with

dogs. About 25 years ago I came home from work to discover that our then-young Doberman

had managed to jump up on the screen door, punching out the fabric for the third time. Now,

that was in my drinking days. When I came home in those days, *nobody* better cross me

until after the second Martini. My reaction was to yell at the dog, while **ripping** the screen

door off the hinges and flinging it into the back yard. Then I finished stomping out the rest of

the screen fabric by jumping up and down on it. When I calmed down, no dog. Could not find

the dog. Finally located her hiding under our bed, scared to death. By this time I had realized

what a jackass I was. Too late, poor dog scared to death.

That's one moment I would like to have back. Won't get it. Since her passing to the Bridge

several years ago, some things have changed. I haven't had a drink in 23 years. I suffer from

"Instant Ass****; just add alcohol syndrome". Quitting drinking improved my temperament

somewhat, but hey, a type "A" is a type "A" no matter what. It's always an uphill battle to

struggle towards modifying type A behavior. I'm older. Not a lot wiser, but some. I also have a

better understanding of what dogs know, and don't know. No expert, like some of you, but

better than before. Since living with Goldens for the last 7 years, probably the only times I've

gotten cheesed off were over the scatological pursuits of my furkids. I got really upset at

Peggy Sue who in addition to her "Fecal Gourmet" practice of eating her own poop--could

*not* resist the road apples left by pack horses on the trails we hike. No matter how many

times we yelled "NO!" when she trotted up to us and offered to share her delicacy--no effect.

To this day she still will sneak some occasional horse padookie. Now *she's* smarter, too.

She goes up the trail and hides in the bushes to snack. What I don't see won't bother me. The

only time I really got mad at Becky was over her [to me] *nasty* habit of finding a pile of

Yuppie Dung in the woods, usually minutes before we got in the car to drive home.

Riding in a van for hours with a dog suffering from "rectum breath" is *extremely* unpleasant.

Sometimes to rid her of the odor we'd stop at the nearest lake or river and throw sticks for a

while. Sort of a giant mouth-wash. Great reward for her behavior--eh? I solicited the advice of

an animal Psychologist in Portland, Oregon over Becky's continual bad habit of seeking out

sewer trout in the woods. This woman claimed that human feces tastes as good to dogs as

chocolate does to humans. I always wondered how she knew that. Afraid to ask. Anyway,

Becky now knows I *do not like her eating human feces* and has been 95% better since our

verbal, er, "understanding". Becky does not like to displease me. She's really GReat that way!

Earnie is the lucky one. By the time he came along, I knew it was dumb--really dumb-- losing it

with a dog. If I felt like he was driving me nuts--kennel. Just put him in the kennel. No yelling,

no temper tantrum--kennel. Sometimes my wife, who is a definite "B" personality, and wiser

than I would recognize signs of me getting impatient with Earnie. She would say "put him in

the kennel if he's making you crazy". I did. It worked. So far I don't have any moments I

would like back with the Earnster. Wish that were true with the other two. It's not. There were

times I wasn't proud of my behavior. I hope those times are behind me. I guess the reason I

wrote this is because of a few responses to the woman who admitted losing her temper with

her dog. At least she's reaching out for help. Let's give it to her. The last thing she needs is

negative criticism.

Remember, you too may not be perfect. We all learn as we go, some faster than others.

People who live in glass houses--? Sorry for the diatribe, just needed to unload and this is

cheaper than a shrink.

Becky [Sewer Trout? Where? Boy does dad get way pissed when I bring those

back to

him. Just wanted to share. Tastes like chocolate.]

Peggy Sue [I think they should package Road Apples. Sell them for dog food.

Beats

the heck out of Innova. All natural, too. Richard should love it!]

Earnie [What's a Road Apple? Hmmm. If Peggy Sue likes them, I think I'll

pass.]

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

Listen up listers. I'm about to share a secret with you. I admit to not sharing this with the list

until now because of the possibility of it's being used improperly. So, I will first issue the

standard warnings we have all come to expect on a consumer product. Things like the warning

on your new Lawnmower which states "DO NOT PLACE HANDS; FEET, FINGERS, OR

GENITALIA UNDER A RUNNING MOWER!!"

How about the warnings on the little pellets in some medicine bottles that keep stuff dry? big

letters on them stating "DO NOT EAT OR USE AS A SUPPOSITORY"

. Ever wonder *WHY* stuff has these warnings on them? A close friend of mine is an

Emergency Room Physician. He shared some pretty amazing stories with me. No, I cannot

share his stories with the list. Suffice it to say there are some really er, mentally challenged

folks out there. So--if you choose to use Binaca as a training aid, there are a couple of

warnings.

The first is *DO NOT GET IT IN YOUR DOGS EYES!!* Only spray it in the mouth. Now,

the reason I'm sharing this with you is because several folks felt sorry for me because my dogs

tend to snack on some pretty smelly stuff they find in the woods. Primarily people-poop.

That's the worst. Deer, Elk, Horse, Bear, Moose, Beaver, Chipmunk leavings--no big deal.

Bad enough, but the smell doesn't linger as it does with Mountain Biker Mounds. So, it was

suggested I brush the dogs teeth with Crest Toothpaste immediately following one of their

feces feasts. Sorry. The closest I came to doing that was using a full roll of paper towels to

wipe s*** off Becky's muzzle. She managed to find a really nice pile just as we were getting

ready to jump in the van for a 100 mile drive home. I succeeded in getting this stuff on my

hands, the steering wheel, etc. By the time I got home, I was quite ill. Becky, on the other hand

was fine. Dog one, owner, zero. The only way I would attempt to brush a dogs teeth after scat

sampling would be with full Scuba Gear, or a Body Condom. Which I would then discard at

the local landfill. I mentioned we were distressed and grossed out enough over this disgusting

doggie habit that we spoke to our local Animal Psychologist about it. She's the one who

mentioned that human feces tastes like chocolate [to a dog] and is therefore somewhat

irresistible to them. She suggested "Aversion Therapy" which consisted of catching the dog in

the act and using a command such as *NO EATING* along with a shot of Binaca in their

mouths. Being somewhat desperate at the time [you have to be desperate to take the advice of

someone who says poop tastes like chocolate] we purchased several small spray bottles of

Binaca. Guess what--! It works! There is *nothing* on earth my dogs like less than the taste of

Binaca. Peggy Sue was easy to break [well, 90% ain't bad] of eating Road Apples. If she

knows we are packing Binaca, and she sees even *nice fresh* Horse Padookie--she will

actually go clear off the trail to detour around the poop. [Uh, uh, dad, I ain't eatin' any Horse

Poop today! Just stay away from me with that Binaca. Ugh! Hate that stuff.]

Becky was tougher. She's sneakier. She seems to think we cannot detect the **stench** of

Yuppiedung on her breath. So she goes off the trail, imbibes, and probably gets away with it if

the wind is blowing her breath away from us. But--if we smell it--Binaca! Usually one dose of

Binaca will stop them from indulging in dung for the rest of the day, anyway. There is another

GReat use of Binaca--controlling problem barking. You know-- hysterical barking at dogs in

the street, airplanes, the neighbors, etc. Just say the words *NO BARK* in your biggest voice

and administer a shot of Binaca. I allow my dogs two warnings before they get it. *NO

BARK!! NO BARK!!* then--Binaca time! Usually just an occasional glimpse of a Binaca

bottle serves as a reminder as to why it's a bad idea to bark. Leave a couple on the table where

they can be seen by your dog. All I have to do if my three start nuisance barking is to show

'em the spray can--they immediately shut up. Another warning here. Be careful if you have a

large, deep bodied dog. Now, I've never seen this, but it could happen. If you have big dog,

like Earnie, and he's just sucked in 200 cubic yards of air in order to expel a really big bark--

and you stop them at the wrong moment--they may explode. A good test as to whether or not

your dog could explode is to listen to the bark they emit. If they go "Yap Yap Yap" like Peggy

Sue--no problem, if she stops in the middle of a big bark, her cheeks puff way out and she

makes a muffled "Marf-Marf" sound. But no explosion. Earnie, however, has a really huge,

deep, *ROOF* bark. I'm afraid strangling a bark at the wrong moment could be dangerous for

him. So--be careful out there. I don't want to be responsible for any exploding dogs.

Peggy Sue [ Decision time. Hmmmm. Fresh Road-Apples. Binaca. Road-Apples.

Binaca--let's see, is dad close enough to see me? Maybe just *one*--!]

Becky [How does he *know* I've been sampling Hiker Humps? I *know* he didn't

see

me--hmmmm.]

Earnie [Hey Becky, maybe it's the T.P. hanging out of your mouth that clued

him?]

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

First, let me clear up the fact that Innova Senior indeed comes in a *blue* bag--not red, as I

mentioned in my post asking about senior foods. Stupid attack.

Colors confuse me. I have the same trouble in traffic. Watch out when I come through your

town.

As a means of apologizing for my stupidity, I'm about to share something with you that really

has me excited. Strange things excite me lately. We all have Goldens. All Goldens have anal

glands. So--we all share the occasional problem of needing to "express" those pesky, stinky

suckers from time to time. The lightweights among you will go to your vet or groomer. Those

of you who want the close bond with your dog will do it yourself. Well, maybe you don't want

to get this close to your dog. You decide. Once upon a time, I used the "Rubber Glove"

method. Primitive. Definitely not for the squeamish. You usually need to use this method

during bathing your animal, too. It's messy. Since the coming of Earnie, I was taught by an

expert on anal sacks that you can massage the glands from the *outside* and achieve the same

results. I have used this method with Great results for the last year or so. On an average sized

dog, you can simply wrap your fingers around the base of the tail and gently squeeze with

fingers & thumb downward--like milking a cow. This worked OK until Earnie got too big to

wrap one hand around the tail and perform the anal sack maneuver. Hmmm. What to do? An

advantage to the one-handed method is you can stand to the side of the dog. If the sacks

squirt, as Earnies do, you're clear. If you have a really warped sense of humor, you can aim

the dog at one of your enemies [if they aren't, they will be] and squeeze away. This is

also useful for ridding yourselves of unwanted guests. A couple of squeezes are simpler than

breaking out more food if folks drop in before dinner. Just be obvious about what you're

doing and nobody will want to stay for dinner. A real money and time saver. Not only do you

save the $20.00 the Vet usually charges to do this, you save $20.00 for the food you didn't

have to provide. Man, am I ever saving you guys money here! OK, here's the problem I

solved. Because of Earnies huge tail, it's a two-handed job to express the little suckers. So,

here's what I do now. I use this method on all the dogs. It's neat & tidy, no squirting on

feathers, or you, or the furniture. No need for the Airline barf-bags you lifted during your last

flight. No gas mask. This works. Get a bottle of Baby Wipes, the wet things you use to clean

dirty bottoms. Place dog between your legs, you must be facing the tail. Otherwise this is

difficult. Once again--aim the dog at something relatively solid, not so hard the dog will hurt

itself if the dog doesn't care for this type of attention. If you live on the upper floors of an

apartment building, do not do this out on the deck. It may be hard to explain later. Very few

documented cases of suicide among Goldens. Anyway, lift the dogs tail, and place the wipes

[I use two per dog] over the exit hole. Use a fairly firm "milking" action between thumb and

fingers of one hand being *very* careful to keep the wipes over the vent. Your fingers &

thumb should be at about 10:00 and 2:00. AM or PM makes no difference. Push inward, and

squeeze & pull out. Oh, yeah, I forgot the clothespin. It's for your nose. If you use the scented

wipes, you may not need the clothespin. I routinely do this to Becky & Earnie who both seem

to always have a lot of excess anal fluid. Peggy Sue doesn't often need to be cleaned out.

Maybe it's her poop-eating diet, I don't know. I don't want to know.

Becky [Well, it sure beats the 'ol proctologist bit. I used to hate the

sight of a

rubber glove!]

Peggy Sue [Sure glad that's one problem I don't have!]

Earnie [I prefer the smell of anal glands to those perfumed wipes. Makes me

roll

in the lawn.]

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