Apr 18

Blue Fucked Off, Again

birdmandesk

Blue.

This is one of the mornings since he has been sleeping in his crate. He takes every chance to sneak onto a pillow.

This is one of the mornings since he has been sleeping in his crate. He takes every chance to sneak onto a pillow in his old bed.

You might remember him from such posts as Today’s The Day, I Love That Boy, or Blue And The Wolf.

Now he’s going to be known for this one. Hopefully it won’t be his last appearance.

Yesterday, we decided to do a bit of van camping, kind of like when we went to the hot springs. The girls were at their dad’s, so we were going to make some soap, pack up the van, and head up to the ski hill and then to Bullhead Mountain.

Then I got pretty sick and we decided to just go up to Bullhead, let the dogs go for a good run, and cook some burgers on an open fire. After that we were going to come home because my guts were hurting and I wanted to be in my own bed. I’m getting quite old.

We let them out at around the one km mark and they chased the van. By two km they had passed it. We got ahead of them while they pissed on a tree and they were starting to lag a bit by three, so we let them in the van and drove another little bit to the gravel pit that we decided would be a good stopping point. They were pretty beat, so we figured they wouldn’t stray too far from camp.

Then Blue fucked off.

This was on the hot springs trip. Dover was Yang or 9 depending on how your mind works.

This was on the hot springs trip. Dover was Yang or 9 depending on how your mind works.

They both were meandering along the side of the mountain, and Dover was sticking close to the camp on account of food.

Blue, not so much.

As we were getting the fire going, we heard the baying start.

“Oh shit, Blue’s after something.” I said. I was hoping it was a squirrel up a tree or something simple like that.

We just kind of shrugged our shoulders and finished splitting the kindling and the old punky shit that was lying around the pit. He wasn’t too far away.

Then his baying got fainter. A bit further up the mountain. Oh well, he has already had a good run, so he should be back before too long. We were going to be a few more hours anyhow.

And then the wind started to pick up. A lot. The baying was moving back closer to us. We walked to the edge and watched for him, yelling his name. I caught a quick glimpse of him, nose to the ground, moving through the edge of the trees, far below. He wasn’t really interested in what we were saying.

After a while it sounded like he had crossed the road. And then about an hour later, he crossed back again. I think. The wind was just howling through the valley by now. We could hear him every so often, but couldn’t tell where he was. You couldn’t even hear the echoes anymore. We weighed his cushion down with rocks on the edges and left him some food and water, then we went home. I was going to leave my jacket, but Gerri figured he would like his outside bed better. She’s usually right.

Blue

The arrows are where we know he went. The circle is where he might be now, if someone didn’t pick him up.

We then put Dover, some food, and the bed in the van and headed back out there for the night. We wouldn’t be able to sleep thinking he was waiting out there for us. When we got there, he was nowhere to be seen. The food and water was untouched, so we parked and honked for a bit. Then we dozed on and off until morning, got up, had a pee in nature (Dover’s was on Blue’s bed.), and headed back to get the quad to see if we could find him on some of the old logging trails.

We looked up and down every trail that we could find, calling and whistling, but there was nothing. I’m just going to assume that he made it to one of the roads and someone picked him up. He’ll climb into anyone’s vehicle, so there would be no problem there. We will just wait until tomorrow morning and put out a PSA and hope that someone calls the district with his tag number. He’s been gone for 24 hours, so if a cougar didn’t get him, or he didn’t run off a cliff, I’m guessing someone has him.

This is when he was a bus driver on our journey west.

This is when he was a bus driver on our journey west.

I have had some pretty crazy scenarios running through my head since we lost him. I have envisioned him bringing down a deer and then having to fight of a couple of coyotes for his kill. He was pretty beat up, but was able to drag himself back to his pad and wait for us to come and get him. In another, he was chasing an elk, but so was a cougar. As he was gaining on the old cow, the cougar got him from behind. He was so excited about the hunt that he didn’t feel the two inch canines1)Shouldn’t they be felines? sink into the back of his neck.

He didn’t make it home from that one.

Another was where he ran back down the road and saw the guy loading his quad onto his trailer and just jumped in with him. That’s the one I am hoping for.

It doesn’t matter which one I think of, I get really sad and happy. Happy to have known him, and sad to think of never seeing him again. Next to my wife, he is my best friend out here. His emotional neediness is endearing, and his love is unconditional.

Unless there’s hunting. If there’s hunting, you’re shit out of luck in the friend department.

Birdman


*Note: We got a call last night from Blue’s rescuer. We went and picked him up and other than being gimbled up, he seems okay. Thirsty, tired, and hungry, but his tail still wags and he doesn’t have any puncture wounds in his neck, so that’s awesome. I guess he was found on the cushion that we left. 🙂

Thank you so much, James. You saved us another restless night.

BTW, I already had the post mostly written, so I decided to finish it. Call me cheap if you want, but it’s hard to get the motivation to write, so I wasn’t wasting it.

Awesome footnotes   [ + ]

1. Shouldn’t they be felines?
Aug 19

Road Rash

Birdman

Alright, so after my parents divorced, we moved with my mom to a house that was two doors north of my Uncle Larry’s place. He was my dad’s brother, and it wasn’t uncommon to see Dad’s pickup parked there on a Saturday or Sunday morning.

It also wasn’t uncommon for me to have stupid ideas.

This is one of those times that the two landed on the same day.

Now this was a weekend that we were at Mom’s and my brother Larry and I were playing in the yard. We just happened to be looking for something fun to do, when Dad’s truck pulled into Uncle Larry’s driveway.

Don't you dare make fun of my Paint skills; my wife was sleeping, and I don't know how to use Photoshop.

Don’t you dare make fun of my Paint skills; my wife was sleeping, and I don’t know how to use Photoshop.

“Hey, we should go and crawl under Dad’s truck.” said I, in my infinite wisdom.

“What for?”

“We’ll drag underneath it when he backs up, then we’ll climb into the box and scare the shit out of him. He won’t be able to see us in his mirror,  then…BANG! We are yelling at him in the back of his truck. It’s going to be so funny.”

“Haha, that’ll be so awesome. Let’s sneak through the ditch, so he doesn’t see us. We’ll be like ninjas.”

I thought that was a great idea, so I answered with a silent nod and point towards my uncle’s place.

Back in the early 80’s, people weren’t as flippant with the word “ninja” as they are today. Back then it meant something; especially to a young boy who had just watched this.

So we stealthily crept through the ditch and crawled under the truck, hanging on to the rear bumper so he couldn’t take off without us, and we waited. After a short while that seemed like two days, we heard the screen door open and heard him say goodbye to Uncle Larry.

This was it, our time to shine.

He fired up the beast and started backing out onto the road. Everything was going according to plan. We smiled at each other and laughed inwardly. As the truck came to a stop we spun around and grabbed the bumper while moving into a crouch position behind the truck. YES! It was totally working. As he started going forward, Larry lost his grip on the bumper and was left behind as I “land skated” behind the old girl.

Shit. I was going to have to go this one alone.

As he picked up speed, I reached up to grab the top of the tailgate and pull myself into the back of the truck. This was going to be so cool. I secretly wished I would be able to record the the manoeuvre and the look on his face as I leapt into the box and started yelling at him.

That was when the tailgate popped open from not being shut all the way and smashed me in the face. That sent me skittering onto the road at about twenty miles an hour. I’m not going to tell you that I wasn’t concerned, because I was, but when I finally stopped and realized that I was okay, I began to grin. Partially because I was glad to not be mortally wounded, but also because I knew I would have made it had the gate stayed shut. A few scraped up limbs was worth knowing that.

Seriously, stop laughing at me. It's not my fault.

Seriously, stop laughing at me. It’s not my fault.

The truck slid to a stop and Dad came running back toward me, as my brother was yelling and making his way toward me too. He was laughing and grinning when he got to me, and had a look of incredulity at what had just happened.

Then there was Dad. I’ll never forget the look on his face through the stars and my pulsing, bloodshot eyes. It was an expression of shock that turned to horror. Oh, and then the fear, that I might have mistaken for rage.

Can you imagine being a parent and seeing your kid in the middle of the road with blood all over his smiling face? I couldn’t then, but I sure can now. He had no clue what had happened, just as I suspected, but instead of that being funnier, it was just a lot scarier. I think about the myriad of emotions that would course through me if it was one of the girls that this happened to. It’s really hard to fathom.

Not that I will ever have to worry about that though, because they are far too smart to pull that kind of stunt, and they rarely go outside. This is good, because that means that most of the things I expected to die from as a young man are off the table, and there’s a way less chance of them developing harmful sunspots.

I can’t say I’m proud of all of the things that I’ve done, but I can say I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone,

Birdman

Feb 19

Float Your Fanny Down The Ganny

mindofbirdman

That’s right, Gadget and I are teaming up with PXL Cross-linked Foam and building a raft for the annual Float Your Fanny Down The Ganny race. I was excited because I love the thought of capsizing in frigid waters, so I wasn’t thinking about details and other shit that are rather important when planning a job like this. That was when he asked a question that I hadn’t even thought about.

“How many people do you want to have on the team, so I know how big to design this for?”

Up until that point I thought I’d just be lucky if he would join me, but then I thought, maybe other people would like to be on Change The Topic’s Crazy Craft.

Doesn't that look fun? I think we should have something a little more top heavy.

Doesn’t that look fun? I think we should have something a little more top heavy.

Photo Credit

Continue reading

Feb 05

Leave It To Cleaver

mindofbirdman

I don’t even know how to start this, but it needs to be told, so I’m just going to go from the beginning.

I was on Facebook when I saw something come up from Armchair Patriots page in my little right sidebar thing that tells all of your secret conversations with fake Justing Bieber accounts. Don’t worry, I’m sure you weren’t the first to tell him you want to milk his prostate, and you surely won’t be the last. Because they always have funny and thought provoking content on there, and it said “This is fucking nuts” or something to that effect, I just clicked on it without actually looking to see what it was.

What they had shared was an article from The Blaze, and it was a story that was so fucked up, I couldn’t recite it to Mrs. B with a straight face. It’s really whacked out.

As wild as the story is, the news interview with Kai was the piece de resistance. It was so out there that I copied it from Youtube, so in case they took it down, I’d still have a copy to show you.

Here’s the full, uncensored interview in case you don’t want to read the article, but you do want to hear a fucking bizarre story and lots of swearing. There were a lot of people in the comments talking about how foul mouthed he is, and how he’s a piece of shit loser, but I thought the guy was fan-fucking-tabulous. I guess I’m partial to real people, be they flawed or not. I say the guy should get a free bag of weed, an old jeep, and some surfing gear for being awesome.

Right? He cleaved his motherfucking head right open, yo. That shit is fucked up. If Jesus was real, he certainly wouldn’t rape 14 year olds or masturbate in front of schools. He probably wouldn’t want to rid the world of all black people either. What would his reasoning be? They work too hard? He’s fucking Jesus, he don’t care about colour and shit. He’s the Prince of Peace. He wouldn’t snap a woman’s neck like a pencil stick.

I’m glad Kai was there to stop this whack job, and I’m glad he was using the sharp side of the hatchet. I would have brained him with the back or the flat side, but the blade works too, it’s actually the most effective.

Now, at the bottom of the article was a comment section, and it’s way better than mine. I think I need more Republican commenters or something. I took a couple of screen shots for your perusal, and also for some merriment.

Seriously. Pat Alexander is bananas. You know, because  "The Shit is bananas".

Seriously. Pat Alexander is bananas. You know, because the shit is bananas, or the bananas are the shit. Whatever.

 

Searching For The Truth? Not as much "The Shit\', as he is just plain shit.

Searching For The Truth? Not as much “The Shit’, as he is just plain shit.

That’s it for today, kids. If you have any Therapy Thursday stuff for us to figure out, please let us know. We want to help you so bad that it hurts.

We bury the hatchet, but leave the handle stickin’ out,

Birdman

Feb 04

What A Great Vacation

mindofbirdman

I really want to tell you about it too, but I can’t right now, because I have to get the pictures to properly illustrate the level of fantastic that was experienced. If I had to measure it in words, I’d say that it was kind of like if Jennifer Aniston is your hairdresser and she always wears thin cotton t-shirts that are old and almost threadbare. That’s just the ice cream of this sundae, because she is constantly brushing her breasts against your cheeks, and she’s never wearing a bra. I’m going to add in that she kisses and bites your ear, while she hugs you when you give her the $15. It was that good.

Anyhow, because I’m waiting for the technical difficulties to work themselves out, I will point you in the direction of my latest post at Aiming Low. It’s called Chin Up, Gun Nut. Maybe Next Year, and it’s so amazing. Well, if you like to hear about hillbillies shooting themselves and others.

What’s your best hillbilly joke?

Amarillo by morning, up from San Antone,

Birdman