Cocoposts

Hard Town for a Dog That Hates Balloons

And Big does so hate balloons of the large hot air variety. He is also not fond of large birds and low flying planes. But bright large, round and silent-until-they're-not things are much much worse. Especially that unexpected noise, the horrible "PHHHAAAHHHPT!" 

Big dog otherwise qualifies as a very mellow dog. But in any photo where he appears to be calmly surveying the Weed Ranch pasture he is actually scanning the eastern horizon in the direction of the Balloon Fiesta Park for any sign of horrible floaty colored things that roar (or "Balloons" in Dog speak.) Evidence is met with fresh emotional distress - a new discovery of hot air ballooning every sighting. And multiple balloons cause amplified spasms of anxiety -  tail-tucking and whining and pacing. It is like some dogs get on thunder. Except thunder doesn't bother him at all. Thunder is nature. He can tell when thunder is coming. Horrible floaty colored things sneak up on you and go: "PHHHAAAHHHPT!" And that is so so much worse. Apparently.

I mock him for this, his only weakness. I make the burner roaring noise with my arms up and glide across the floor. He looks at me with a very sad face and sighs and I immediately feel guilty.

Oppenheimer's Crisis

While Director of Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory between 1943 to 1945, J. Robert Oppenheimer and his wife Kitty would ride two days on horseback from the mesa to his summer home in the Pecos, "much to the dismay of the FBI agents who had to accompany them." Oppenheimer frequently rode a spooky horse aptly named "Crisis."  

(Sources: Ferenc M. Szasz, Larger Than Life:  New Mexico in the Twentieth Century. and J. Abraham Pais, Robert P. Crease, Robert Oppenheimer: A Life. Photo: historycooperative.org)

Big Red

From Visual Economics: How Much Our Pets Cost in a Lifetime - theirs.  I'm not sure about the numbers or this visual of a reddish pink Big Dog with a deformed head.  

If you thought big dog = big expenses, we can’t fool you. Big dogs tend to cost a lot more, and their average life expectancy isn’t much shorter than a medium dog’s. Big dogs cost $700 a year, with first year expenses adding up to a whopping $1,500. Over the life of your big guy or gal, that comes to $7,800. But the slobber and attention is free!

Obama's Big Dog

Love the photo of the White House dog, Bo, in the doorway.  And I believe that's Obama's new budget director, Jacob Lew.  I got it from Ezra Klien's Wonkbook at The Washington Post.

From the Post Who Runs Government site:

Widely respected by centrists and liberals alike, Lew was a well-received selection for deputy secretary of state by policy wonks for his competent work as director of the Office of Management and Budget (OMB) in the Clinton administration. In July 2010, President Obama tapped him to return to his old White House stomping grounds as the replacement for outgoing OMB Director Peter Orszag.

Bo got big.  And he has a blog. 

Pub Dogs and Castle Cats

The canine species is welcome and commonly seen on trains and in places of business in the UK.  This terrier guy was enjoying the crowd and treats at a London pub.   Without exception, the dogs I saw were well-behaved and cleaned-up after. 

I watched a cat in a jewel-studded collar go after a dog in Tenby that had apparently gotten too close to her territory along a castle wall.

On hearing of it, Big now insists he wants to go pub hopping and Domina has reopened a spirited debate regarding pecking order in the household. 

Skyy Dog

One of Rockin' Ray's radical Skyy Dogs was doing his thing at the Isotopes park Mom's Day.   The wonderful seats, win, weather, beer, brat and entertainment made Sunday afternoon sublime and cast a happy afterglow well into Monday.  Happy afterglow, not a hangover.

Groundbreaking My I

A corner of coco ranchito  is readied for the houseboat i-house.

 

Dog Door Dream

A devil dog was at the dog door.  I had to stop him before he would ruin my house.  The plan was to throw my coffee cup at his nose as it poked into the room.  But now the little door was shrinking and when I tried to aim the cup it got stuck.  The dog was going to bite my hand so I screamed, get out!  and woke myself.  The poor cat, abruptly awakened by my thrashing, scrambled away and scratched my right hand. It looks like a tiny devil dog bite mark.

I've been packing coffee cups, as it happens, but I need a break. 

There may be a little anxiety about the new homeowners (on the part of the cat, of course.)

Crazy Red Dog

I've noticed that all the things I needed to be doing in off-hours before retirement have expanded to fill that 8 to 5 space.  And I'm still not doing them. 

I've also noticed many other, even less profound, things.  Like how some dogs bark a whole fucking lot.  All day.  Every day.  I never noticed this before because I was, like their owners, at work.

Guard Mares

They move like white tanks rumbling through tall weeds.  Fast, swishing their tails and tossing their heads at flies.  Big dog still thinks they could be meat eaters - looks apprehensive as they beeline for us.

Everything in the big pasture interests them.  They explore and lay claim to anything new - testing fences and lifting improperly installed gates off the hinges.  Throwing them to the ground with a big thud.

They are territorial.  They poop in the same spots, including on the new driveway. They have a pecking order and follow each other around that way. 

They eat anything.  Including the new cottonwood.   They eat like goats.  They might eat goat too.

They must be locked inside the corral when anyone comes to visit.  Otherwise they'll knock over the surveyor's equipment.  Walk out through open gates.  Stand in front of the mower.   Assess equinophobic tendencies in dogs and humans in order to seek out likely candidates for thorough nudging and nosing or - if they get lucky - a good chase.