Thu - December 6, 2007

Clara Bow? Or Clara Bow Wow?

We're tagged. We're it. We're at a loss.

Illustration by Gimlet Rose.
She'll steal your heart. But don't steal her art.

A snowball hit us.
Gob-smacked. Not a flurry in a hurry, but a Snowball Princess .
Yes, we were tagged with an award. Which we'll hoard and lord over, except that...
Everyone and his person has these awards.
We may be at the end of the dog leash, conga line, award-wise. The rules are that we must state eight random facts about ourselves and then tag eight other wards of the awards court.
Can't be done ... there is no one left to tag.
But, the eight random facts? Piece of biscuit.
Oh, the rules of the tag?
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. List eight (8) random facts about yourself.
3. Tag eight people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them).
4. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving them a comment on their blogs.

Here we come to random fact 1: we are not a follower of rules.
Random fact 2 also emerges: we noticed in rule 3 that we are supposed to tag "people." People? Really? We are animals. We are not people. That would be random facts 2 and 3: we notice things and we are not people.
Fore!
Tagging eight people, or dogs, or a combo? We're not in the mainstream, but in a tidal pool. Not to estuary, we will certainly try to scare up eight.
By the way, that's random fact 4: we are not mainstream.
Note that "eight" brings up pieces of eight, the eight ball, "Dinner at Eight" and "Eight Is Not Enough." (Enuf of that one.)
We'll stick with "pieces of eight," dredging up pirates, which can only bring us to ... Captain Blood, Errol Flynn. We're huge Flynn fans. He owned a fox terrier when he was a lad, and we think he also owned one while he was filming "The Adventures of Robin Hood."
That's our random fact 5, our love of Flynn.
Are we in like him yet?
Have you seen it? The Be The Blog Award?


Are we with the in crowd with this award? Probably "Far From the Madding Crowd." We're not far from Thomas Hardy now, since he's the author, and he had a wire fox terrier named Wessex.
Why, we're wire fox terriers! That's a fact. In fact, it's random fact 6.
We're becoming anxious now.. all the randomness. Random acts of kindness, Random House, Lady Randy (Lady Randolph Churchill, Winston Churchill's mother). Do you think the term "randy" is derived from the wild Lady Randy? Oh, you've guessed random fact 7, have you? We're like a Churchill (although she was American). We're wild.
Wild things, Oscar Wilde (irish), Wily. You know it: we're wily. Random fact 8.
Eureka!
Eight random facts, not six degrees of bacon, but facts ... and you hardly know us.
Let the tagging begin:
The Daily Dave
Sarah Says
The Tiny Tots
Jill the Lakeland Terrier
Summer
The
End.
Sorry.

Posted at 09:06 PM      

Wed - September 12, 2007

We're not talking Edie Falco ....

We are enraptured with a raptor.

Our neighbor, Hector the Falcon.

Last night we were in the car, headed for our usual evening stroll along the nature trails in Hammock Park when something popped out of the darkening skies and flew across our path.
What's this?
Someone reminiscent of Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade being hectored by Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre.
A large bird wearing brown pants and a morning coat with horizontal stripes. A falcon!
Oh, what a noble bird. Well, any bird wearing such fancy duds and observing the proprieties that go along with them must be noble. Falcon, coming from the Latin word falco, for scythe. The Roman nose, the shape of the head? Noble.
There was no other traffic on the road, so we stopped the car. Where was this assignation? The recycling center, of all places. What an urban comedown for a bird dressed like this guy.
He gave us the "cut." No recognition that we were watching him. But we knew he knew our eyes were on him. That's his M.O. The "I'm not watching you, I'll sort you out later" non-stare.
Joe, being Joe, doesn't travel in the car unless it's a trip to the vet's. Not his style. But we thought of Joe, and this two-legged, feathery competition for all the rats and rabbits in the neighborhood. After all, the falcon was just a block and a half from our home.
Too close for comfort, Joe?


The Maltese Falcon. An ancestor of Hector's?

Or does Joe know Hector? That's his name, or at least that's the signal he gave us. Hector. A name of which Dashiell Hammett would approve.
We continued to watch, fascinated by Hector's slow two-step. Clearly, he was fidgeting with something or someone on the ground, but it was clearly a disappointment to him. Maybe it was a piece of rubbish that had fooled him into thinking it was a luscious rat or mole.
Even falcons can be fooled.
The evening wasn't getting any younger, so we slowly drove away, a small jump from Hector signaled his good bye.
What a character, and it's neat to think he's one of our neighbors. Even Joe the Cat agrees.

Posted at 09:41 AM      

Sat - April 17, 2004

Offerings

Gimlet snags a rat.

Photo by Joe the Cat
Gimlet considers her options. And her trophy.

Lots of rats in the backyard lately.
Sometimes I think the winter residents and the tourists bring them.
So during my rounds this week, I discovered a small rat condo beneath a staghorn fern located just off the patio.
A rodent frathouse.
Or is that rathouse?
Anyway, I rousted them and they scattered. But I kept my vigil.
It paid off.
Yesterday morning I spied one of them trying to steal some peanut butter from the bird platform.
I was not amused.
In fact, I darted, jumped and chomped ... all in one motion.
I spent much of the remainder of the day posing for photographs and guarding my prize. Even Joe the Cat stopped by to admire my work.
No time to rest on my laurels, though. There are more rats and mice out there.
--Gimlet

Posted at 10:37 AM      

Fri - January 16, 2004

Vermin Verisimilitude

Et Tu Billy?

"The celebrated dog Billy killing 100 Rats at the Westminster Pit', 1822.

Terrier history always involves making history of vermin.
Rats.
The old-fashioned kind. With four legs, a long tail and whiskers.
Here's an introduction to Billy the Ratter, the most celebrated terrier of early Victorian Times. (Naturally, Billy was a Fox Terrier.)
Billy was notorious for his skill at dispatching large rats, Roman Coliseum-style, in Victorian rat-match.
In an era when as many rats roamed the city of London as PHBs infested American workplaces, rat-matching was a hugely popular pasttime among the poor (make that most people).
In a sporting pit where as many as 500 hundred rats might be dropped, most terriers could manage the not-too-shabby rate of 15 a minute.
Not so Billy.
Billy's great triumph was the snuffing of 500 rats in five-and-a-half minutes.
A paragon of ratting.
Billy, we need you now!

*Information from Christopher Hibbert's "London, The Biography of a City" was used in this entry.

Posted at 08:32 AM      

Sat - October 18, 2003

Let Us Prey

Gimlet is on the prowl.

Photo by Joe the Cat
Gimlet does not take prisoners. Ask any rat but this one.

Nigel was out of town on a business trip during most of this week and that left me in charge. Lots of activity in the garden. I was taking my usual patrol on Wednesday when I caught a glimpse of a large member of the rodentia order. A big brown fruit rat.
After stalking him a bit, I nabbed him. Was he surprised!
Squeals ensued.
Briefly.
When I was certain he was dead, I carried him inside and left him just in front of the dog door.
I wanted Pat to see him. Which she did, that evening.
She took him to the garage and Joe got out the digital camera and a ruler for official measurements.
Seven inches, not including a very long tail.
Everyone congratulated me and we celebrated with some treats: Good Boy dog chocolates for me and some catnip for Joe the Cat.
Sorry, if any rats are reading this, but I just couldn't help myself.
It's my nature.
--Gimlet

Posted at 04:23 PM      

Sat - September 27, 2003

NIGEL GETS TAKEN FOR A RIDE

A routine visit to the vet almost takes the wrong road

Photos by Joe The Cat
Post-incident, Nigel takes a seat on the Chevy's passenger side.

What a difference a day, a sturdy collar and the superhero reflexes of a Doggie Dad makes.
As you may have read on The Daily Dave a routine visit to the vet (my eyes are troubling me) on Thursday took a turn for calamity.
The driver's side front door of my Doggie Dad's 1970 Chevy Bel Air flew open as we were taking a turn into my vet's parking lot. Naturally, I was seated in my dad's lap when this occurred and of course I began to tumble out the open door until I was caught in mid-air by the collar.
I wear a sturdy yet stylish Italian leather collar and my dad has the reflexes and strength of all The Fantastic Four put together.
I do not exaggerate.
I am fine and escaped harm. But I will tell you that after we left the vet's office and it was time to get in the car and go home, I jumped up into the Chevy on my own.
And took a seat on the passenger side.

Posted at 09:22 AM      

Fri - August 8, 2003

You're Elected!

Nick Otto joins the blogging fray with Mr. Pezident.
It's pezidential.

Friend and colleague Nick Otto just grubstaked his blog, Mr. Pezident.
Nick and I once put our paws to the pavement in an ALS walkathon. He's a good walker, even if he only has two legs.
Welcome to the Cyber Terriertories, Nick.
Good luck as you leave for your sophomore year at UF.
We'll miss you.
Will someone please show him how to allow the posting of comments to his blog?

Posted at 12:19 AM      

Fri - June 27, 2003

And They called It Puppy Love.

A celebration of all things Terrier.
Here's to the archetype Wire Fox Terrier, the fiercest little white dog that ever was.
Zephyr, afraid of nothing and no one, who allowed us to share her life, and agreed to be my muse.
Zephyr, like the West Wind.

Puppy Love, 1993. Kitchen cabinet, painted, with legs attached.
Zephyr's urn, along with her photo, on the right. Her ceramic likeness howls on the left.

Posted at 09:08 AM      

Thu - June 26, 2003

Musings

The Code of the Small Terrier.

We have our masters but we do not obey them.
That is not why we are here.
We are here to enjoy and revel in the moment.
We are dogs. Wee dogs ... small white terrier dogs!
Small, white and wicked!
Watch us as we show you how to live.
– Gimlet and Nigel

Posted at 09:24 AM      

Mon - June 23, 2003

How Fetching! A Daily Davism!

The Daily Dave's Dave Simanoff drops us a line.

Macs are like dogs and PCs are like cats! Both are perfectly acceptable pets, but dogs really want to please their masters, while cats just do whatever the hell they want to do.

Dave Simanoff

It's writing like this that's snagged 11,500 visits to The Daily Dave since last July.

Posted at 06:13 PM