Viktor, was a Polish Lowland Sheepdog who shared his views on life and had a following of loyal readers from around the world . He sadly left all of us us way too soon. He left his PON brother, Frodo and his Berger Picard “brother”, Elroy to continue his “legacy.” We now welcome a new PON brother to our story- Wojtek- who in many ways, has the very same “bigger than life attitude” as Viktor. So we know Viktor’s spirit lives on, as does the spirit of Paxton, his Bernese Mountain Dog…
Howdy blogaroos! Happy Valentines Day! How did the day come so quickly? Wasn’t it New Years last week?
The Warden was going to attempt a cute Valentine photo with us- but it was chaos. Complete chaos. Of course she left it until yesterday. She had no great props (thank goodness) except a backdrop with hearts. She attempted to drape it over the railing on the deck. BUT – it was snowing. And windy. First the Coyote tried to pee on it. Then it blew off and I grabbed a corner and ripped it. That plan was canceled. So she took us in the yard. Remember- it’s snowing. And frankly, she had crappy treats. She also had one measly garland with hearts which was used in previous Valentine photo shoots. She didn’t think we’d remember- but we did. It also wasn’t long enough to drape over all three of us- and I decided I should just attempt to pull on it.
Then the Boss got annoyed and started shouting;
The photo at the top was the best we could do – and she added the hearts afterwards because even if she had hearts to hang around our necks, we would have pulled them off. It was snowing!
We used her credit card to order some Valentine flowers on-line and some dog treats too. Might as well treat ourselves too, since we had the card.
Not much else is new. I went to two practice matches on the weekend- and I was above mediocre. That’s my goal. The Warden was pleasantly surprised. I told her not to get too crazy excited – don’t sign up for any real trials just yet. I’m still a wildcard.
Yo. Blog people. Elroy here. The mops are in the other room barking at each other for no reason, so I walked out to escape the PONdemonium. The Imp is continually attempting to lick Einstein’s face and ears so I must hear Her Highness saying “Wojtek leave him” at LEAST 50 times each day. At LEAST 50 times.
Now it’s not that I don’t bark at all. I bark not just to hear myself talk – but to warn about important things. Like a falling leaf. Or wind.
While the Imp likes to run like around through the woods like a maniac chasing nothing, I prefer to silently commune with nature. I would probably do well living off in some remote Tibetan monastery- listening to nature. Instead I’m trapped in an asylum were the other residents don’t have the foggiest clue what the word “quiet” means. Sometimes I believe we live in parallel universes. And theirs is much more noisy than mine.
The ruckus is particularly obnoxious at mealtime – when a sound level meter would likely explode. A rock concert holds no competition in sound level compared to the two mops
I’m quiet at mealtime because I believe the whole eating thing is overrated. Some meals I eat. Other times I just say “meh.” Meanwhile two drooling banshees are staring at me through the French door – leaving beautiful olfactory art on the glass. I am served my meal first and while I sometimes actually DO choose to eat immediately , other times I prefer rituals. Her Highness looked up mealtime rituals and found the following article:
Interesting – and some of you may identify with some of these behaviors exhibited by your canine companion. But none actually describe what I do. My ritual includes standing over my bowl and staring at my food. Then I will bounce my head around the edges of the bowl. The Imp thought I was saying grace and then blessing my food. I suppose it could appear that way. I just like to see if I can count the kibbles in my bowl, before I begin eating them. I also like to closely examine the bowl to see if there are any additives, like cheese, or some pieces of bread. Her Highness likes to occasionally put extra things in my bowl so I like to fully identify them before I dig in.
I will go through streaks with eating. Some days I completely refuse one meal entirely. Her Highness must quickly pick up my bowl before opening the door to the hallway befote the food clearing crew runs in.
I must confess, I HAVE acquired a taste for frozen blueberries like the mops lately. We have them each day. But keep in mind, I may decide today that I dislike them again. My tastes change.
I do enjoy eating snow – despite Her Highness’s requests not to continually gobble it on a walk. She warned me that snow containing bits of pine needles would NOT be good and I must confess – she was correct. I later vomited them. Next time I’ll stick with pure snow without the sprinkles.
Someone once described me as “ quirky.” Yup. That’s me. Quirky and smirky. I just watch the frantic mops and roll my eyes. They need to commune more.
Well it’s almost time for the morning circus. Geez I wish Her Highness would let me run free. But she fears I would take off. Can you blame me – I’m trying to escape the mops! But before you start thinking I don’t like them, I suppose I should explain that I actually do. Where else can you get this kind of entertainment- and where else are you loved just for being different?! Her Highness hugs me and thanks me for being so quiet. I’m her sanity support dog. She no longer stresses about my weird eating rituals or refusal to eat. She gets me. Now if I would just come when called. But I’m usually too busy communing with something. Yo – I think she just called me. This time I’ll think I’ll respond. Or wait – what’s that fluff on the floor….
Greetings blog aficionados. Frodo here today for your reading pleasure.
Thanks again to all who sent greetings for my celebration of becoming a teenager. I enjoyed the kind well wishes, and I read every single one. After I ate my birthday treats.
We have all recovered from the deep freeze although I must confess, I don’t enjoy the slushy mess that the warmer temperatures bring. Thankfully, despite my increasing years, I remain an excellent puddle jumper.
I understand that the furnace repair man will be making yet another visit today. Something about the annual furnace cleaning. No doubt we will be sequestered during his work- although I fully intend to tell him just how I would like the work done. I’ll be sure to yell out my instructions loudly and clearly.
Otherwise, things are rather quiet these days. Therefore, I searched the news for more exciting stories than our currently boring lives. For example, who wants to hear our story of the FG being “stuck” outside – because the sliding deck door was only open a foot, and he couldn’t figure out how to push his way in. He pitifully stood squeaking on the deck, until the Imp went out and demonstrated for him the way to get in. After several moments he took the daring plunge- and pushed the door open. There was rejoicing in the land.
I told you things were boring here – so onto stories about Boji, Bobi and Ghost. And no – I did not select the stories based oh the dogs’ names.
Let’s begin with Bobi – a dog who has now been proclaimed the oldest living dog. Ever.
It’s rather remarkable how well he is doing. Her Highness watched the video and felt this compulsive urge to brush him. I think that perhaps his clean but scruffy appearance and lack of brushing may be a secret to his longevity. I suggested she instantly stop brushing me – heaven knows the torture takes years off of both of our lives. I also suggested that she share more of her meals with us. Clearly it’s been beneficial to Bobi. It’s rather amazing to consider that I am not yet even half his age! Stop the brushing and allow me to put on a few pounds – and I’ll attempt to break his record.
Next we have the story of Ghost – a dog who found himself living with coyotes. And I am referring to real coyotes- not the Picard variety.
It appears Ghost survived for quite a long time with the wild coyotes, but I doubt it will take him long to adapt to the creature comforts that most of us canines enjoy. He looks to be a very sweet fellow.
And finally, we have the story of Boji – a dog in Instanbul. This story was recently shared with us by a loyal reader – David – and we thank him for that. Read about Boji’s adventures:
I find Boji’s wanderlust quite fascinating. He knows exactly where he wants to go – and how to get there. It’s quite amazing. I’m not sure any of us would be so adventurous. The Imp and I don’t wish to wander far – for fear of missing a meal. And given that the FG cannot find his way through a partially open door – I doubt he would be getting on and off buses and trains. Independently.
Well I must prepare and warm up my vocal cords for the arrival of the repair man.
Howdy blogaroos! Squirmy here on a chilly Sunday. Now today is supposed to be warmer then yesterday- and boy we hope it is! We are talking paw chilling cold yesterday. None of us loved it – especially the Coyote who wanted to go out every half hour and as soon as he got out, and he started doing the cold paw dance, he wanted to come back in. The Warden was ready to strangle him.
I think she was extra stressed because our furnace wasn’t working right with the deep freeze. So the furnace repair guy had to come TWICE! The first time he came- we were all sequestered in the bedroom behind a gate doing our best Cujo impersonation. He didn’t seem to care – and came right over with his hand extended. The Warden quickly said he better not try to pet me – as he might be missing some fingers – and she needed the furnace fixed. He just laughed, but backed away. Good move.
The second time he had to come back, he didn’t call ahead. Precipitating an unexpected doorbell ring followed by what sounded like a pack of rabid wolves. Oooo-eee the Warden had a tough time rounding us up to go back in the bedroom. He didn’t bother extending his hand this time.
And if it wasn’t bad enough that the furnace went on the fritz- the propane fireplace- which provides extra heat – also stopped working. Two calls to propane people (after an hour on hold) – and the diagnosis was a frozen doomaflicky on the tank outside. The suggested solution involved a hair dryer and several extension cords. The Warden said that fix can wait until the weather warms up.
Because we had to wait for the furnace guy on Friday, I missed my class. Then – a practice match had to be canceled yesterday because the facility couldn’t stay warm enough- and the pipes were freezing.
And ALL of this drama is one guy’s fault. Sam. The weather prognosticating groundhog. He predicted 6 more weeks of winter – and our balmy weather instantly hit the deep freeze. Not fun AT ALL. Mind you – tomorrow we could get rain. Still – any chilly temps are the fault of that rodent fortune teller.
Meanwhile some poor groundhog in Quebec didn’t have such a good February 2. Picture this…crowds are gathered. Everyone is anxiously awaiting the appearance of the star of the show – Fred. Drumroll please…
Well they go to get Fred out of his den, and I might as well cut to the chase – Fred is dead. Yup- they figured poor Fred went to the Weather-forecasting bridge several WEEKS ago. Seriously they never THOUGHT to check on him well before showtime? Imagine THAT backstage scramble. I read somewhere that they grabbed a stuffed toy, gave it to a child, lifted the child on some dignitary’s shoulders and proclaimed that Fred predicted 6 more weeks of winter. After they announced “Fred is dead.” Sounds like a Chevy Chase movie.
But to cut them some slack – it happened once before when another groundhog elsewhere died just before the big event. Here’s my suggestion – CHECK on the rodent at least several days ahead – AND have a stand-in JUST in case.
So our condolences to Fred’s family and friends. We thank him for his important public service. Although we read somewhere that the whole groundhog forecasting thing has been correct about 40% of the time. Maybe a coin toss – with a groundhog on it might be more successful.
Well hopefully our walks will be REAL walks today. I need my exercise and 25 laps of the dining room table didn’t do it yesterday. It HAS to be warmer today. Frozen paws crossed.
Howdy blogaroos! Squirmy here on this important holiday – Groundhog Day. I’m posting this while it’s still not completely bright out and we wait for full sunrise to see if Nova Scotia’s prognosticating rodent, Shubenacadie Sam, will forecast 6 more weeks of winter – or an early spring. If you want to read how fat rodents began to predict weather, here’s an article about how it started in the US:
I find it interesting that everyone gathers to see the rodent’s forecast, but does anybody go back 6 weeks later to see if he was correct? Where’s the accountability for this prognosticating? But then again, the REAL meteorologists can’t give you info that’s much good beyond an hour – so I guess no one is going to hold a rodent to a 6 week prediction.
Not a whole lot new here. We’re still recovering from the big birthday bash. We all were into the biscuits a bit much. Phew.
This morning I go to work out with the Shaggies. That’s always fun. We’ll see how I do with my dumbbell skills. The Warden was feeling pretty exasperated in trying to get me to hold that thing. I’d take it, and if she let go of it- plop – I dropped it. After 267 trials in which she begged me to “hold it” she got a bright idea. Cruel in my mind – but brilliant in hers. When supper time came around, instead of feeding me, she took me downstairs – with the dumbbell AND my food bowl. She sat on the couch, and put my food bowl behind her. As you might expect, my brain exploded. WHAT could she be doing with it? I jumped at her and she said “off.” And then she pulled out the blasted dumbbell. “Take it,” she said. At first I stared at her and then I slowly took the thing like it was hot coals. She then said “hold it,” removing her hand from below my chin. I held the stupid thing for 2 seconds. She put her hands on it and said “give.” I happily released the plastic stupid stick as if it was covered in Bitter Apple. She reached behind her and gave me a handful of food. Then she tried the whole sequence again. After three successful “hold its” I realized that she was “training” me – so I just backed off and started barking at her. “I’m starving. I’m going to die if I don’t eat. I HATE dumbbells!” She just gave me a little smug smile and held out the dumb dumbbell. Again. I grabbed it and held on for dear life. She said “give” and I immediately let go. Jackpot! The rest of the food bowl was ceremoniously presented.
She has won the dumbbell battle with her food bowl ploy a few times now. But trust me, the war isn’t over….She figures that MAYBE by Christmas I’ll hold on. I think she’s optimistic. Maybe she should ask the groundhog.
We got some snow the other day – just enough that the Boss decided he didn’t feel like going down the deck stairs to pee on the lawn. So he peed ON the deck – while the Warden shouted “no!!!” Then he started back for the door, hit the deck and rolled. Thankfully not in his pee. He doesn’t like to walk in snow – just roll in it. And of course you KNOW his peeing on the deck started a whole chain reaction of deck peeing. We ALL needed to pee where he peed. Well everybody except the Warden. She just kept saying “noooo!” Too late. We all left our signatures in the snow.
OK. Time to get up and follow the exciting movements of Sam. I think we all should have gone to see him. We definitely could “help” him in deciding which way to go! Next year for sure. With a dumbbell in my mouth…
Howdy blogaroos!!!! Squirmy here to tell you there’s no triskaidekaphobia in this house. At least not today. What’s that giant word? It’s a fear of the number 13. And WHY are we considering the number 13 LUCKY today? Because it’s the Boss’s 13th birthday!!!!! Let the party begin!
Yup – the old fella is now a baker’s dozen. And going strong!
While rain is still a bad four-letter word to him, it never prevents him from going out with the gang, because he doesn’t want to miss a thing. Like the possibility of a treat. Although he does walk like he’s in a funeral march.
He still hates grooming and moans like he is being tortured, but instantly bounces up for a treat. 150 times during an average grooming session.
His eyesight may be a bit blurry but he can still smell the neighbors’ cat at 150 yards.
His appetite is as strong as ever – and he won’t pass up anything that’s edible. Because he’s always starving. He has been his entire life.
He still hates crates and car rides, but is fine as soon as he is released from his incarceration. He does NOT like to feel “restricted” and that’s probably why he moans and groans during car rides. He would rather be driving himself.
He still loves to fetch but has a tolerance of about 15 retrieves after which he takes his fetch toy and heads for the door to go in.
He ALWAYS assumes coat pockets contain treats and will spontaneously heel in place without being asked to do so. Even when the Warden literally pulls her pockets inside out, to show him she has nothing, he doesn’t believe her. He figures her coat pockets might be empty – but what about her pants pockets.
He barks. Because he can. Whenever he wants. For no reason at all. He barks like no one is listening. But we are.
He tolerates my incessant licking of his ears, face, and assorted other anatomical structures. He growls – and I do back off because he IS the Boss – but he’s more tolerant than I would be!
He still LOVES, LOVES, LOVES to have his photos taken because he associates photos with treats. Or he’s just a ham. Yesterday, the Warden brushed him and took him outside for his birthday photos. (While I barked incessantly inside the house). Here are a few Frodo-genic shots:
He still loves to work and train and he had an awesome 2022 – still strutting his stuff in Rally:
He completed his Rally Master title in 2022 and he even got a trick dog title – and a Versatility Title!
He also competed in Team with me and our Shaggy teammates and he added a win in Team to his resume.
He’s got some lumps and bumps, and he takes his cardiac medication every day – but he really hasn’t slowed down much at all. When he saw the cardiologist a few years ago, the doctor thought he might live to 12 with his heart issues. Who knew his 12th year could be so good – and that he would be doing so well on his 13th birthday?! We realize he has beat the odds – and every single day is a blessing and a bonus. I guess the moral of the story – listen to a prognosis- but continue to live. Large. And bark. Because you can.
Happy birthday Boss!!! The Coyote and I and the Warden love ya lots! And lots. We’re also thrilled to wish one of his womb mates – Murray in Ontario, a Happy 13 as well! Keep on ticking boys. Just don’t forget to share your birthday treats.
Howdy blogaroos. Scuba Squirmy here. Yup – another forecast of torrential rain. Yee haw. I’m thinking the Warden is going to break out the rain gear for us today. Oh joy oh happiness. Mind you, the Boss will probably be happy. He’s really not happy being soggy.
I’m going training this morning with my Shaggy peeps – it’s our Thursday thing. It’s a chance to train away from home – the Warden says I need lots of training elsewhere. I’m a superstar at home. But leave these hallowed halls, and it’s anybody’s guess how I’ll behave. I AM getting better – but I’m not breaking any training speed records. What can I say? I’m methodical. Better than diabolical.
And speaking of which, did ya hear the story of Ralphie?
It looks like I’ve met my match. It sounds like Ralphie is a real handful. It’s funny – and not funny, really. I mean who wants to live with a total demon dog? Hopefully he finds someone who will provide him with love AND boundaries.
What else is new? Oh yeah – the top dog names for 2022 in the AKC were named. Personally, I think humans need to be a BIT more creative. I mean some of these names have been in the Top 10 for YEARS.
Here’s the thing- dogs RARELY ever go by one name. It gets shortened, like Fro or Doe for Frodo, or lengthened like Elly Belly for Elroy. And then it can be something that’s not even close – like Squirmy for Wojtek. And yes, I do answer to Squirm.
And we ALL answer to one of the names in the Top 10 – Buddy. That’s a Nova Scotian thing. Everybody is Buddy. “Buddy delivered the parcel to the side door.” “Buddy took my parking spot.” “Buddy needs to keep his dog on a leash.” Everybody is a Buddy – and so are we. We hear “Buddy don’t pull.” “Buddy come on.” “Buddy, I’m out of treats.” With us dogs, Buddy seems to be used in a pleading, or explanatory way. When we’re it real trouble- it’s always our REAL names. “Wojtek stop licking Frodo’s ears.” “Frodo stop barking right this instant or I’ll get the gun!” Which is a squirt gun should you be worried – and just the sight of it is enough to end an incessant barking episode. “Elroy get in here – it’s time for bed!” Yup. Names are pretty interesting. And when you hear your name, you had better pay attention. In theory.
Well almost time to get out the rain gear. I hope wherever you are, you stay dry!
Have a good one Buddy. Peace and paws up. Stay safe.
Howdy blogaroos. Squirmy here after our I’m snow-filled weekend. Which is supposed to be replaced by a rain-filled day today. Ooooooeeeee the Boss will be cranky. I’m staying out of his way.
Now snow is supposed to be fun. There are all these false advertising photos and videos of dogs romping in the snow – looking joyful and happy. Not so much in our happy abode…at least not yesterday…
The day after the storm, we did our walks on the plowed and shoveled driveway and road. Note I said shoveled. Our plow guy came Friday – but BEFORE it stopped snowing. So overnight we got another 3-4 inches of snow. Meaning the Warden had to shovel lots of our driveway. At least the luge run part. She had visions of the rain turning the thing into a nice thick coating of ice. While she was out there, moaning and groaning, the Boss was inside shouting out directions and also yelling that he wanted breakfast. So what did she do? She opened the door and let him out with her while she worked. Note she didn’t let me or the Coyote out because she was working in the unfenced front yard. And let’s face it, the Coyote would take off and yours truly would also likely get bored and start bunny hunting. She also didn’t leave us out in the backyard because she KNOWS me too well – and she was afraid that although I don’t TRY to escape the fenced yard- IF I thought the Boss was out front having a good time, well – who knows WHAT kind of escape I might try. So the Coyote and I stayed inside.
Meanwhile, the Boss watched her work for about 45 minutes and then started to get bored. He kept getting in front of the shovel. When that didn’t stop the proceedings, he then stood at the front door and shouted that he wanted to go back in the house. The Warden kept saying “10 more minutes.” He was NOT impressed.
Yesterday morning, the Warden decided we would all take a walk to the lake. Now here comes the non-joyful aspect of snow-ventures. The Boss wasn’t keen on the whole idea – although he started off rather happily. I was racing through the woods and the Coyote seemed invigorated by the cold crisp air. The tree branches were low – laden with loads of white stuff- so every time you hit one, you found yourself in a mini snow storm. It was kinda pretty. We were about 1/4 of the way on our circular trail to the lake, when the joyful snow venture started to go badly. We two PONs were down. We didn’t like the snowballs between our pads- so we laid down to chew our feet. Now admittedly, the snowballs were NOT that bad – we’ve been out where our legs were so heavy we couldn’t move. But this WAS our first real snow of the winter and the Warden had to coax us along. Initially the Coyote seemed fine, but by the time he got to the lake he was walking alternately on three different legs. His feet were cold. He looked like he was walking on hot coals.
Of course, the Warden HAD to take some photos of us in our winter “wonderland.” She made an already agonizing walk that much worse. We begrudgingly stayed in place just to get the whole paparazzi thing over. And to get the treats, Then we continued our way back to the house – with a hobbling Picard and two PONs who kept hitting the ground to do snowball removal surgery. We were a motley crew. And the short walk took twice the normal time. It was not fun.
When we got in the house, the Warden quickly wiped us down with towels. We didn’t need the warm water snowball tub removal because, as I mentioned, we were not covered in balls. We have been much, much worse. And it was time for breakfast. During our morning ritual, we PONs must sit and wait for breakfast to be served. Meanwhile, the Coyote is sequestered in the front hall with his bowl. Well. The Boss refused to sit. The Warden then asked him to lie down. He refused. All the while I’m sitting patiently in place, drooling. Finally, I was released to eat, and the Warden tried to figure out what was wrong with the Boss. He couldn’t sit or lie down. The Warden didn’t realize he still had a few snowballs (tiny ones the size of peas) on his belly and butt. As a result, he was paralyzed. She released the starving snowball guy to eat his breakfast. He said he’s not going out until Spring. Our winter has been so mild, we haven’t yet been conditioned to the snow. Go figure.
After our fun in the snow, the Warden started scrolling through Wastebook and she saw this “free app” that everyone seemed to be using – to make their dogs into cartoons. She saw plenty of adorable cartoon pups – and decided to try it too. For some reason, our results weren’t nearly as cute as everybody else’s. For example – in this version, the Coyote looks like a llama, the Boss looks like a sloth, and yours truly looks like I’m wearing a toupee:
In this version, we all look possessed:
Here’s an even better llama version:
In this one, the Boss looks like a Beatle. Or Hitler. And who is that strange creature behind us?
In this one, the Coyote is looking better – but the Boss looks kinda like a sheep. A weird sheep…
You can download the app for free. Free meaning you don’t mind wasting time watching commercials for other apps. You COULD pay for the app- which eliminates the commercials and provides even MORE cartoon options. I’d rather buy a bag of biscuits.
Well, time to go out in the rain. More joyful weather. The hourly forecast says it won’t stop until early evening. The Boss says he can “hold it” until then. This could be a long day…
Oh and did you know there are 56 days until Spring! But who’s counting?
Greetings blog aficionados. Frodo here for your reading pleasure on this post-snow day Saturday. Yes, winter finally arrived in the Halifax area- with a substantial “dumping” of white stuff. When we awoke, the flurries had begun, and they continued throughout the day. And as a result, the Imp’s obedience class was canceled. Pity. It meant no respite for me or the Coyote. Meanwhile, Her Highness proclaimed that it would be a “day of rest” during which she did just that – reading and relaxing and catching up with friends on the phone while Yours truly, endured the continual attempts to clean my ears by the Imp. That boy is persistent. And just occasionally, a bit stubborn. He and Her Highness have had a few “chats” lately about just who is in charge in our household. He appears to be at yet another “stage” where he needs reminders that HE does not rule the roost (though he likes to believe he does). I dare say that Her Highness is winning the battle – but by a small margin.
Because our humble abode is lacking exciting news, let us look to news elsewhere.
Here is a story of the World’s Oldest living Dog – Spike.
I am not certain about the exact age of Spike, given that he was a rescue – but if it’s confirmed by Guinness, who am I to question his longevity. Cheers to the old gentleman who reportedly began life in rather difficult surroundings.
The following article attempts to answer the stirring age old question: “Why do dogs sit on your feet?”
There seem to be a variety of explanations- none of which can be completely confirmed as it doesn’t appear they actually asked any dogs. Perhaps we do so because the spot below your feet is exactly where we wanted to be. But your feet are in the way. I dare say it will continue to be a question that remains unanswered.
Here is a heartwarming story about some very inventive teens – who clearly liked their teacher. And her dog…
But of all the stories, perhaps this is the one I personally enjoyed the most. Although it MAY have been “set up” as they say- the concept is quite amusing:
And you humans believe that you are smarter than us canines…. The Imp can release himself from a wire kennel if there are no carabiners to hold the latch down. He has also been known to release the Coyote from the same kennel. We never recorded the Imp and his escape skills – but this little dog has the same idea:
Well I believe it is almost time to patrol our property and take a jaunt to the lake. I just hope that the deep blanket of “white stuff” is not snowball- forming. In which case – take the others – and I’m fine just to relieve myself on the paved driveway. Age has its privileges. Although I DO want to make sure I’m not missing out on something. I may just walk in the boot prints of Her Highness.
Have a good one. Peace and paws up. Stay safe.
Final note from Linda: We are very sad to share the news that Bumble, the Picard who had gone missing and was miraculously found, has passed away. The effects of his journey were more serious than initially expected. Hearts around the world have broken and our thoughts are with Donna at this terribly difficult time.
They take our hearts, and break our hearts – but we still wouldn’t have it any other way…..Rest easy Bumble…
Yo. Blog people. Elroy here for a change. Here to share a fantastic, wonderful, incredible, heart-warming, happy-ending story with you. (Today also happens to be Thesaurus Day – so the Boss made me start off that way). I’m writing this story with his help, because my version would be a whole lot shorter….I’d rather spend time watching. Nobody knows what I’m watching – because they just don’t SEE and hear the way I do. We Picards are special in that way.
Anyway, if anybody from Disney is reading this story- it’s a movie waiting to be made.
It’s the story of Bumble – a Berger Picard just like yours truly. Bumble lived with his breeders and best peeps – Donna and Mike in Minnesota. And besides being a loved family member, Bumble was an awesome show dog – winning all kinds of ribbons.
On January 6, Bumble was being transported to another state – possibly to be in some dog shows. That part I don’t know for sure, but what I do know is that when Bumble and the people caring for him stopped for a break in Wells, Nevada, somehow Bumble got off his leash. And like yours truly, decided to go on an adventure. Quickly. In the vast Nevada wilderness. But unlike my adventures, Bumble’s adventure was a whole lot bigger.
When Donna got the news that Bumble was on the lam, it was a story like “Planes, Trains and Automobiles”. Minus the train. She hopped on a flight to the nearest airport – which was over a three hour drive from Wells. She then jumped in a car and possibly drove over the speed limit. I don’t know because I wasn’t there – but Donna was a woman with a mission: Find Bumble.
And so began the search and a massive media campaign to spread the word about Bumble – far and wide – so that it would increase the likelihood of him being found. HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of people around the GLOBE shared the news about the missing Picard. Thousands followed the story. In the area where Bumble made his exit, probably EVERYONE in the town was on the lookout. Signs were posted. Traps were set. Cameras were set up. A professional tracker was hired. A drone was used.
What no doubt made the story doubly heartbreaking was that when Donna arrived she actually SAW Bumble in the distance. But here’s the thing- when dogs go into flight mode, they often do not respond to even the people they are closest to. Bumble took off. And for almost a week, the search continued with no other sightings by Donna. Foot prints were found and initially there were reported sightings by others, but then they stopped.
Throughout this terrifying ordeal, people all around the globe (including Her Highness), obsessively checked social media for updates. And many people hopefully learned some valuable information for when a dog is lost- some of which I’ll post in a minute.
Anyway, after almost a week, the professional tracker said the trail had gone cold. Sadly, it was believed that Bumble was possibly hit by a vehicle and had been subsequently been picked up. Of course shelters and vet clinics had been notified – but it seemed Bumble had vanished. Although the media blitz continued, Donna made the sad decision to go home. Her final post before she left was heartbreaking.
But of course, the story doesn’t end there. We Picards are such crafty clowns. And pretty darn resilient. Bumble waited for Donna to get back to Minnesota and he then appeared and went up to the vehicle of a ranch worker, Juan. Juan unfortunately didn’t know Bumble was friendly, so he sadly did not invite him in the vehicle. But Donna was notified – and she turned around and headed back to Nevada. Operation Bumble: Part 2. Donna arrived with all kinds of smelly things from home to attract him.
The small local community continued its ongoing outpouring of support. Traps were set – and then, of course, snow came. Lots of snow. Making it a challenge to check the traps. I’m telling you – this IS a Disney movie.
And around the world, people waited. And prayed. And sent good wishes. And repeatedly checked for updates.
And yesterday, the ultimate update came – after an 11 day walk-about, Bumble was FOUND. Yup. Busted. After MUCH walking and searching, Juan (who joined in the search) and Donna, found some tracks way back in a field. Fresh tracks. And they followed them and found more. And then – because it was meant to happen, by luck and through the thousands of prayers and good thoughts from around the world, Donna spotted Bumble sitting under some sagebrush. Timid but tired. She slowly and carefully approached him, and with a slight touch to reassure him – he agreed that his walk-about should come to an end.
He was gathered up and carried as he was pretty weak – and he was taken immediately to a vet clinic – where he stayed to be thoroughly checked out and cared for.
He will probably have to wear an ankle bracelet with tracking device for the rest of his life. Just joking about the bracelet. Although one of those GPS collars MIGHT be a good idea.
Even though we don’t know Donna or Bumble personally- their story was one that touched many people owned by dogs. And not just people owned by Picards. Dog people. They felt they KNEW Bumble – and they could feel the anguish in his search. When news was posted that he had been found, you could literally hear a sigh of relief from around the world. Thousands of people indicated their happiness with on-line posts.
Donna is admired for her incredible persistence in searching. And one has to acknowledge the great support from the local community – who helped in the rescue efforts including Juan. And throughout it all, even when things looked somewhat bleak – HOPE remained. That desire. That wish. That anticipation that everything will be all right. And it was.
We’re glad you’re back Bumble. I guess we should thank you for the adventure – it’s been quite the journey – and most of all, we were happy for the grand finale.
We all deserve a happy ending now and then.
Have a good one. Peace and paws up. Stay safe.
Hopefully you will never need the following info, but here are some resources about lost dogs:
Viktorsviews. The Next Chapter. 