It's Thursday, and on Thursday we were promised storms of rain and snow, apocalyptic cold, hurricane wind, plagues of frogs and locusts, piles and jerboas. The meadows turning to blood. Fire from the sky. Mass hysteria.
At nine this morning it was mid-sixties, hardly a cloud in the smiling sky. It's a bit breezy, which promises heavy wind this afternoon, and that can blow in some weather. But right now I can only wish it was like this every day of the year.
Took the second load of horseshit over to S&L's and got it all spread in their garden plot. Ghost and LB came along and were perfect angels, which for once in my life annoyed me a bit because I've got J&H's shock collar on loan for a week, and strapped to LB's throat. How he'll react when I pull the trigger is something I'm curious to know, but I'm not gonna do it for laughs. So naturally, this once he gave me no cause.
Ah, perversity.
MG11: The Magnificent Swiss Maxim Gun
1 hour ago
3 comments:
Ahhhh the shock collar, I have dismissed it as a training aid, even for Lola the wonder (as in I wonder if she has a brain) Dog. When I went to the pet store to explain her wee barking issue, issue being the wee thing barks at everything, leaves, snow falling, wind, toys left on the floor, cars passing by, EVERYTHING. He suggest this barking collar that sprays citronella. A shock collar would give a tooooo toooo strong a jolt for her 6 lb self to take. It no worky, but on the bright side she does smell like fresh laundry on a constant basis.
I am now seriously re-considering the shock collar, cause if she doesn't learn to stop soon and it don't kill her I am almost willing to make the worlds smallest fur rug out of her for in front of the fire place.
I will be very interested in your feedback on how they work and to see if LB acquires a nervous tick or not. :O)
All I know, GL, is that my neighbors D&L have two dogs about LB's age. One was a discipline issue, the other a discipline NIGHTMARE. Both loved to run off into the boonies. D&L used the shock collars for a few weeks, and now you couldn't lure those two off the ridge with fresh bacon. It's like there's a fence there, and they refuse to cross it unless Mom and/or Pop are there with them.
What a wonderful thing that must be.
One of our local "meteorologists", lovingly referred to (by the public, and his co-workers!) as "Dead Wrong Dale", is famous for over-dramatizing the weather by a factor of at least ten. Torrential rainfall usually winds up being sprinkles, hurricane winds arrive as mere zephyrs, and pea soup fog nothing more than morning mist. We often wonder if there's a window in his office...
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