Category: Hounds (page 1 of 3)

Another Anniversary

It’s been TWELVE (12)!!! years??! Holy cow. In spite of all the special dogs (Feargal, Fergus, Fred, Roux, Sascha, Bosco, Goose, Tessa and now Charlie) we’ve had since Bayley crossed the Rainbow Bridge, the first dog who enters your life always leaves the most special imprint on your heart. And Bayley was indeed a special first one. So much so that we remember him and his anniversaries all the time. Here’s the post from 12 years ago, maudlin and sentimental and all that.

Bayley Murphey Beagle
20-Aug-1994 — 2-Mar-2007

Dear Bayley Murphey,

Thank you for being such a wonderful and good dog, a loving companion, for keeping us sane, for loving us unconditionally, for being such an incredibly important part of our lives for 12-and-a-half years. Thank you for putting up with all the picture-taking, ear rubbing, nail clipping, bathing, teefs-brushing and hugs and kisses. Thank you for curling up against us on cold, winter nights. Thank you being the touchstone of our lives. Thank you for being you.

We tried hard to give you a good life, full of all the things that good dogs such as you deserve. From the time of your puppyhood until today, you tried so hard to be good and please us, and you always did. We are richer for having had you in our lives, much, much poorer for your passing. Your suffering is over, now it’s time to run baying through the fields, chasing rabbits, rolling in squirrel pee, and lying under a tree gnawing a never-ending supply of beagle bagels.

Rest and sleep well, pookus. You leave a very large hole in our hearts and our lives.

Love,
Dad, Unca Frankie, and Unca David.

Steve Pollock

Anniversaries … so bittersweet. Sigh.

Puppy Bayley, Plano, October 1994.
Young Bayley being dignified, Plano, 1995.
Bayley napping in the sun, San Francisco, 2001.
Bayley and Frank in Ann Arbor, Autumn 2003.
Me and Bayley, Ann Arbor, Autumn 2003.

His Majesty Objects


His Majesty the Roux, Speaking on a Subject of the Gravest National Interest

His Imperial Majesty the Roux is rather protective of the Royal Demesne. So whenever friend and neighbor, the talented Lars Thorson (who just happened to be on Good Morning America and the Colbert Show this week, but that’s another post) walks the incredibly adorable, majorly awesome puppy the Townes-ter, His Majesty and at least 3/4 of the Royal Court (Queen Sascha typically can’t be bothered to soil herself in territorial disputes) collectively lose their … little doggy minds.

After some interminably loud defending the walls of the castle, HIM the Roux comes inside and complains for 15 minutes to us churls about Townes very existence in the Royal Orbit. Part of the Complaint revolves around the undisputed Treasonous Conduct of us churls in Divers Huggings and Walkings and Flauntings of the Dangerous Interloper, but as long as we churls pay the castle expenses, a standoff situation is guaranteed to prevail.

(Also, see how His Majesty’s face is getting lighter and whiter? He’ll be a dead ringer for King Lear soon. His Highness shall be eight (8!) years old next month. Lord, His old age will be a Thing to Behold! Also, shhhhhhh. Don’t tell him.)


—30—

Dean Allen, RIP (Jan. 2018)

Because so much has been messed up and unstuck during the first half of this god-awful year, I just discovered the other day that Dean Allen, the creator of Textpattern, which powers this site, and of TextDrive, which used to host this site until Joyent destroyed it, and of «Textism» and Textile and Cardigan Industries and tamer of the epically wonderful Weimaraners «Oliver and Hugo» … well, he died back in January. I had no idea. There has been death aplenty around here since January and his slipped past me.

I’m glad that part of Dean lives on here in Textpattern (still running my websites with no let up since 2004) and the consciousness-raising I got from reading his stuff. I wish TextDrive was doing the same. WebFaction and NameCheap (what names!) have been adequate substitutions, but hardly anywhere near the same thing. «Many people» wrote «many wonderful things» about Dean’s influence and I can’t beat «them», so here’s the first part of his obit in the Vancouver Globe and Mail:

“It is with unspeakable sorrow that we announce the sudden passing of Dean Cameron Allen, on January 13, 2018 at the age of 51. “He leaves behind his parents, James and Holly; his brother, Craig; an adoring family; longtime partner, Gail; and a legion of loving friends and admirers around the world.
“Renaissance man, trailblazer and autodidact extraordinaire, Dean was a person of dazzling wit, charm and erudition. “Graphic designer, typographer, teacher, web pilgrim, critic, author, Weimaraner tamer, song and dance man, chef… he brought titanic intelligence, insight and humour to everything he did.
“And whatever room he was in, he was the weather. “He was instrumental in bringing clean, elegant design and typographical rigour to the early internet. And in raising online writing to a fresh and thrilling new art form.
“A source of inspiration to many, he was generous with his guidance and praise. …”
Vancouver Globe and Mail, 6-Feb-18

God speed Dean … and thanks for all the … empowerment you gave us.

“Intellectual property is theft!”

His Royal Snit Fit

Portrait: His Imperial Majesty The Roux throws the Royal Snit Fit, leading His Court in vocal protests against All This Infernal Packing.
Again, sorry for poor video quality. You takes ‘em as you gets ‘em.)

Posted by Steve Pollock on Thursday, April 26, 2018

Goose's Most Favoritist Thing in the World

Goose loves when the sun goes down, because it makes great reflections off the phone, which is his MOST. FAVORITIST. Thing. IN. THE. WORLD!!!!! to chase. Tails are for pikers. He gets very excited, which in turn Wholly Displeases His Imperial Majesty The Roux, who is then bothered and obliged to Issue Verbal Correction to the Wayward Prince. They’re both quite mad, really.

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, April 10, 2018

We Want Dinner!

What happens when Unca Frankie goes to the store without first serving dinner to the Royal Family.
(Kinda funny/sad at the end is Bosco, who is now pretty much just lying around, but who still feels well enough to join in the howling. I think he’s turned another corner and we don’t have long. Lotsa pain pills, lotsa love. As Dolly Parton says in “Steel Magnolias,” “Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion!” Lotsa that around here lately.)

Posted by Steve Pollock on Thursday, March 15, 2018

Sascha and Bosco Asleep

Bosco snoozing up next to his sister before his nail trim. Things have taken a turn and not towards the good. More pain pills on way. We’re waiting for his decision and being strong for him.

Posted by Steve Pollock on Wednesday, February 21, 2018

[And thanks everyone, your support and love for Boscketty and us is wonderful and overwhelming and greatly appreciated. There is diminished lung capacity and he is limping and sleeping more. Vet says his heart is strong, and so is his appetite. And His Majesty the Roux is (mostly) keeping the lid on so Bosco can sleep. Thanks again!]

Simon Invades

His Imperial Majesty registers Royal Displeasure over an infiltration into the Kingdom by an insolent guerilla fighter from the K.A.T. organization, which only His Majesty’s keen eyesight can detect. (It’s white with some brown and three houses away and goes by the moniker “Simon.”)
Simon conducts hit-and-run raids at least twice daily, and His Royal Roux-ness, like LBJ with Vietnam, can’t figure out why His troops aren’t meeting with success in curtailing the insurgency. (Simon even has his own Ho Chi Minh Cat trail and has recruited four (!) additional K.A.T. guerillas to infiltrate the Demesne and Drive. The. Roux. Nuts.)
His Majesty is NOT amused!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Monday, February 26, 2018

Bosco is Limping

Bosco started to limp today, indicating a spread of the osteosarcoma to his joint. He also just had a long episode of tremors, so now we’re on our way to NVS to try to get help to get him through the night. And snow is beginning in Nashville. So. You know. Yeah.

[And thanks everyone for all the support! It is much appreciated! He’s holding his own and the pain pills have him sorta drugged but there’s no pain. We’ll keep him in comfort until he decides to let us know what he needs. Hugs back from Hound House!]

Three Hounds

Our beloved Bosco (in the middle between His Majesty the Roux and Queen Sascha) is not feeling good tonight. Feels like…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Wednesday, January 10, 2018

[So very sorry to have taken so long to say it, but thank you everyone for all your love and support for Bosco, Sascha and us. It is appreciated greatly.

He needs his pain meds every six hours and is noticeably feeling worse. With meds, he seems more normal, but is just enough off that you know what’s happening.

Sascha is being her bossy self as usual; she has issues getting up, but flings herself around and hollers at everyone to do her bidding. We’ll keep her meds flowing.

Thanks again to all the wonderful Belly Rubbers and friends of hounds everywhere!]

Unhand Me, Foul Knave-Churls!

His Majesty is NOT in a mood to be recorded. Rash is gone, ears are better, but not quite there yet. Annnnddd … we discovered a cyst on the Royal Tuckus, which will be medically treated. If that doesn’t work, lancing and draining will be required and that brings forth a nightmare of epic proportions in our heads, so we churls are hoping it doesn’t come to that. Caring for Sascha AND a Roux with a tube in his tail root draining ugly things is just … inconceivable! <exhausted sigh> C’mon meds, do your stuff!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Sascha's Going Into Traction

Two days, two vet visits. Sascha, Queen of Our Hearts, seems to be steadily losing the use of her back legs. Not been a…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, December 12, 2017

[Update: She’s home resting. Ummmm. Herniated disks and arthritis and a messed up spine and has feeling lower down, but can barely move. She’s on complete bedrest for two weeks, and we’ll have to assess her quality of life and if she veers off into pain and more paralysis, welllll. Not giving up. Fighting as we always do (three times in ten years). But … yeah.
I’ve said this afternoon … rescuing senior dogs is vital, important, and deeply rewarding. They return great amounts of love unconditionally and trust you completely. But … sometimes it just sucks bigtime. I still wouldn’t … well, to quote “Steel Magnolias” … “I wouldn’t exchange thirty minutes of wonderful for a lifetime of nothin’ special.” Madame is still ruling the roost even if the roost is a forced perch on the couch. As long as she wants to do that, we think that’s pretty special.]

Say Your Prayers

My girlfriend Tessa is staying a week with us while her mommy Carol Miller Stewart is up nawth havin' Thanksgiving 'mongst her Yankee kin. She has a set of steps her daddy Rick made her to get up in bed, but always ignores them and wants me to boost her. (She's a tripod dog and all the stairs around Hound House kinda wear her out even before she reaches the bed.) So here's a recording of the routine we do every night now.

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, November 21, 2017