"Limbo" lived in paradise. High in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California. Seldom hot, below 0F winters. We would hike in the summer or go on 14-day mule pack trips. Every morning he would demand a hug whereupon he would kiss my cheek. 30 years later nothing could ever replace him. One summer day I was working on a motorhome in a national forest campground. I had left a note at the shop as where to find me. A surprise visitor showed up. An acquaintance from a small California fishing seaport. "I brought a present for you" he announced proudly "a 30 lb frozen albacore". I glanced at his pickup truck. "Oh, no" I left it on your front porch" he answered my silent question. "Not with the dog?" I moaned. "Oh yeah" he replied. "He was sound asleep when I drove up" I groaned, yet again. I hurried through the rest of the job then departed on the 20-minute trip to the house. Limbo, was laying on his side, breathing rapidly in little groans. He looked like he had swallowed a basketball. The plastic and burlap had been ripped off the albacore. The entire side of the fish looked like it had been clear-cut. "How could he? I mean..." my friend stood mouth agape. "Jeez!" I exclaimed "He's an 80 lb Alaskan sled yanker! You plopped down a 30 lb frozen Popsicle right next to him and what else would you expect?" I walked over to the huffing and puffing fur ball and gently poked a finger into his inflated belly. "You traitor! I accused "How could you eat most off the side of a giant albacore?" He yelped then went back to rapid breathing. I filleted the opposite side of the fish. And no, Limbo got none of what was left...
We need to see a picture if you can of this ' fishy popsicle eating ' boy As you said ' what do you expect ? '
... and he didn't bloat? When we think of our past dogs, the years just melt away. You have reminded me of running on two Golden Retriever puppies in the early 60's. As I worked, and still lived with my parents, they had a large shed for the daytime, and some food items were stored on a shelf above their heads - or so I thought! One day I returned from work to find that they had reached and eaten about 14 pounds of dried meat, (this was before the era of complete feeds, and was my stop gap supply). I couldn't let them have free access to water, but this was a rainy day, and they never lifted their tongues from the ground on their evening walk, - and no, they didn't bloat!
Oh Carol you have just jogged my memory too We had a Great Dane once - Dillon My husband made one of his delicious curries from fresh ingredients, time consuming as you can imagine. Whilst we were away from the kitchen Dillon helped himself...to the lot, given his height and no lid on the pan Our carpet certainly paid the price that night !
In South Lake Tahoe, I purchased a pound and a half of 8-year-old cheddar cheese. When we made camp at Round Lake, the Dog's nose was glued to my backpack. Fifteen dollars worth of cheese about twenty five years ago. It would curl the toes. We bear-hung most of the food, but then as we were getting ready to go fishing I remembered the cheese. I extracted it out of the backpack with the dog glued to my leg. There was a sapling in camp about ten feet in height. I threw a line around the plastic sack and then climbed into the Ponderosa pine. Nearing the top the trunk bent precariously. So I wrapped the cord around the trunk and darned near fell on the way down. Off we went fishing. The cutthroats were rising. Having accumulated enough fish for dinner, we agreed to start back to camp. "Hey, where's the dog?" Everybody shrugged. "Haven't seen him lately" someone remarked. You guessed it. Upon arrival we found the dog six feet in the air. He had snagged the bag and my precious cheese was history. He was trapped in the young pine. We were going to teach him a lesson but his pitiful "Mwow, mwow, errahr" Malamute begging had us rescuing him. Later that night around the campfire we had a most unpleasant discovery of a reaction between the Malamute digestive tract and aged cheddar cheese, The odor was almost weapons-grade. How is it possible to have thirty-years pass and still be heartbroken over the loss of a pet - I mean buddy? "Wanna Go?" initiated an 80 pound furball jumping two feet in the air. Early summers meant a dogwash with Dawn detergent. We then went into the mountains where he was singularly unsuccessful chasing marmots but left mountains of winter fur in the manzanita. The marmots played with him. First a squeak over here then another over there. They ran him ragged.
I don't think I have ever had eight year cheddar. Does it get full of crystals? Strange how these old dogs live on in spirit. I hesitate to say it but they seem closer than most of our lost humans.
Super aged cheddar leaves a bite on the tongue. But not bitter. That animal had a Malamute paradise. Once a month we would drive down to the local "Inn" where Harry, would save two full racks of prime rib bones (lots of meat). Gnawing bones is like cocktail hour. He would lay outside my window and I could hear him cracking bones all night. The next day he had a very tender jaw. The funniest incident happened in Reno. We visited the friend of a friend's Siberian Husky kennel. The owner's dog was a darling huskyette. Washed, groomed and perfumed. Blue eyes and fur like silk. The fool of a malamute took one look at her, raised his snout made a small "o" with his mouth and began to serenade in malamute yammer. We all watched as the husky utterly ignored him. He then flipped over onto his back and his legs started dog-paddling the air. The kennel owners broke up laughing and soon we all had tears streaming down our cheeks. i have never seen a dog act like that. Some malamutes I have seen are hyper. One red malamute I encountered was a clone as far as temperament goes. The mellower dogs seem to all have a drooping tail rather than a curled one.
