Blast from the Past

LeAnn posted this blog on Saturday, December 1st, 2012 at 8:06 am

Here’s a blast from the past…my blog posting from December 1, 2005.


Thursday, December 01, 2005

Ewwwwwwwww. . .

I took the dogs for a walk this morning around the neighbor’s fields and woods. At one time the property was part of our farm. The neighbor knows this and does not mind if I walk there with my dogs.

The ground is frozen hard now, seeing as the temperature has been in the single digits overnight, and with a brisk north/northwest wind today, it was cold walking. I took my walking stick with me to help me navigate the frozen hummocks and gopher mounds that are hidden in knee-deep thatch. The dogs, Pixie and Charlie, enjoyed themselves immensely, running around and snooping here and there.

When we were almost back to our place, we passed the field of corn the neighbor has planted on CRP ground. Actually, it is now nothing more than a field of corn stalks. The deer and the raccoon and the neighbor’s beef cows, when they have gotten out, have picked 99 percent of the corncobs, leaving nothing but stalks rattling in the wind.

As I walked next to the cornfield, suddenly, our Springer Spaniel burst out of the corn, carrying something in his mouth.

“Oh, goody,” I said to Pixie, who was trotting along behind me, “Charlie found something.”

This is a frequent thing with Charlie. He often finds a deer carcass or a turkey carcass — once he found some frozen fish! — and then he will carry part of it home to chew on it. I, of course, am then left with the task of taking it away from him.

I wasn’t in any particular hurry today to get back to the yard to take away Charlie’s toy. The ground was too frozen and slippery to hurry, plus, seeing as it was 15 degrees, I figured the “thing” would be frozen solid, and he wouldn’t get much chewing done on it, anyway.

When I got back to the path leading past our garden, I could see Charlie, crouched on the driveway with the thing between his paws.

“Okay, Charlie,” I said when I was 10 feet away. “You can’t have that, you know.”

Charlie looked up at me. . .

. . .and growled.

And snarled. And growled. And snarled. His teeth were pulled back from his lips, and his eyes were glowing with malice and hatred.

I didn’t say a word to Charlie. Just headed across the lawn to the house, calling Pixie as I went. If this was going to be a fight, I didn’t want Pixie in the middle of it. I went into the house, Pixie came with me, I gave her a piece of rawhide, and then I put two pieces of rawhide in my pocket.

When I was halfway down the hill to where Charlie was, I threw my arms up in the air — with the walking stick still in one hand — and ran toward him.

“Arrrrrrrrrghhhhhh!” I growled. “Arrrrrrrrrghhhhhh! How dare you! Growl at me! Who feeds you? Who takes you for walks? Arrrrrrrrrghhhhhh!”

By the time I got to the bottom of the hill, Charlie had sat up.

By the time I got to Charlie, he looked distinctly worried. There were lines across his forehead, and he was looking up at me from beneath his eyebrows.

“Arrrrrrrrrghhhhhh! Drop it, Charlie!” I said.

Charlie was just worried enough about my behavior to drop the thing that he had brought home.

“Okay, that’s better,” I said, reaching into my pocket. “Want some rawhide?”

Charlie looked at me.

Looked at the thing he had brought home.

Looked at me.

And chose the rawhide.

“Good boy!” I said.

I picked up the carcass Charlie had brought home — and discovered it was what was left of a turkey.

As soon as I picked it up, I wanted to gag.

You wouldn’t think that at 15 degrees, the thing would smell.

You would be wrong.

It reeked. It stunk so bad my stomach started to roll. My stomach hasn’t been in that great a shape since I came down with this flu stuff, anyway.

I took the carcass into the basement, put it into an empty feed bag, went upstairs to get the can of carpet fresh powder, and liberally sprinkled the carcass before rolling the bag up and putting it in the garbage.

Then I went upstairs and got the disinfectant spray out of the bathroom and thoroughly sprayed my gloves.


That was this morning, and even now, the thought of the smell of that thing makes my stomach do flip-flops.

When I told Randy about the incident this evening, he said Charlie was lucky it was me and not him that Charlie had growled at.

“I wouldn’t have been so nice about it,” Randy said.

I beg to differ.

I wasn’t nice.

Not a bit.

I was devious.

What’s that saying about old age and treachery winning out over youth and agility?

Or in this case — old age and treachery winning out over teeth and fangs.

LeAnn R. Ralph

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