Tractor Supply Company Takes a Snipe at Foo Foo Dogs..

...and scores a direct hit.

I saw this wonderful new ad last night, and thought, "Wow.. I gotta find this and post it tomorrow".. but insomniac Pat Burns, Terrierman scooped me- and not for the first time- so you can watch it there.

A Week in the Life...

It's been an interesting past few days.. you might say from the ridiculous to the sublime.

We shot the River Raisin Rhodesian Ridgeback Club's AKC lure trial last weekend. Saturday was soaking waves of cold rain, all... day... long. That was fine; I've worked in the rain before. Could be worse.



Sunday, it got worse. The snow in and of itself wasn't bad, it was the 25-30mph gusting Northeast wind that was driving it that really sucked. Of course, in typical coursing irony, the snow moved on, and the sun came out... 20 minutes after the trial ended. The wind didn't go anywhere, however.

This is one of the great fields we shoot at. It's a private farm, and there are great rolling hills that are actually grass.. not a mowed hay field. Makes a natural bowl. Take a look when we get the pictures from the weekend uploaded to our website. (Should happen later today). I think the Saturday Borzoi runoffs give a pretty good look at the topography, as I moved into the bottom of the bowl.

From the trial, I drove into Ann Arbor to drop Margaret off at Weber's Inn and Restaurant, a legendary local establishment. She was going to get to spend the night there, in one of the nice poolside rooms, adjacent to her parents' room. I could have stayed, too... but somebody had to go back to Jackson and take care of the dogs. I would join up with them all on Monday morning.

Why? I probably haven't mentioned this before, but Margaret's parents are HUGE Michigan sports fans, and longtime members of the M Club, the folks responsible for the "Go Blue" banner any sports fan who watches football on Saturdays will recognize. They attend countless basketball (men's and women's), hockey, baseball, softball, swimming & diving, gymnastics, meets every year.

The guest speaker at the M Club luncheon (poached whitefish or grilled chicken) would be Michigan's new head football coach, Rich Rodriguez. This was his first meeting with "the club", and it seemed he started off on the wrong foot, with a group you really don't want to piss off. He was late, leaving the host to stall for time, while the natives got restless. And dessert was not a part of the lunch. WTF??

Well, "Rich Rod" finally showed up, to a lukewarm standing ovation... I overheard one of the men at our table say, "He doesn't deserve a standing ovation.. he was late". Tough crowd. They would warm to him, though; I knew they would. This guy is a favorite of ESPN, and we were about to find out why. For a kid who grew up in a tiny coal mining town in West Virginia, he's certainly a fabulous extemporaneous speaker. I hazard to say he can probably out-charisma any coach in the Big 10.. and a majority in the rest of the country.

But why take my word for it? Just watch this clip Margaret shot.. this was his "wrap up" story, about how fortunes can change in the business of college football coaching..





Needless to say, at the end of the hour the crowd was a bunch of pussycats, and they were eating out of his hand. More fun than I've had in a couple of years.

Tuesday, I had to finish up my article on the Pack Hunt and Desert Hare Classic for PSJ . Finish, did I say? I had to start and finish it.. already past the deadline. What the hell... I always work better under pressure. By Wednesday morning, I got it finished up and, not to boast,... (OK... I'm boasting), it may be my best stuff yet, so make sure you get your subscription started if you don't already have one. The issue should be out in about a month. Should be a good one, because Dutch will also have a piece about lamping jackrabbits, with some of the pictures I posted here during our Winter in New Mexico.

Anyway, Jackie, the editor, had a fabulous idea. We met her at Chicago Water Grill in the little burg of Jonesville, MI. We've met her there before and we were looking forward to it, as it's one of those incongruous places: fine dining at it's best in a little town far from any bustling metropolises. It gets its name from the fact it sits on US12, known as the Chicago Road... the way you got from Detroit to Chicago before the advent of the Interstate System. I had a Grouper sandwich.. I've mentioned here before my love of grouper haven't I? I'm sure I have. Desert was a "Old Fashioned Tin Roof Sundae". They even do Bananas Foster at your table, (which, by the way, was the answer to the last little quiz, not that anybody cared apparently.) Great restaurant if you're ever in the area. Go out of your way if you have to.

And for a final little restaurant tip... how about the place we just had lunch? Los Tres Amigos. In the Top 5 of all the Mexican and Tex/Mex places we've written about in the past. We try to get there at least once every trip into southeast Michigan. Try the Enchiladas Pacifico- 3 enchiladas stuffed with at least 2 dozen large, grilled shrimp, covered with green sauce (not green chiles.... damn!), rice, guac, beans, and sour cream. The best. Really good margaritas, too- you know that's important.

Tomorrow we'll be off to Stony Run County Park near the town of Crown Point, IN. This will be our first ASFA trial in quite some time.

Bone Appetít

We having Chow for dinner?

Interesting thread floating around the portion of the blogosphere that I hang around in... dog for dinner. Read Patrick's interesting piece here, and Steve Bodio's here. Further links to related posts and articles at the respective blogs.

Save me the tenderloin!

Runaways.

Well. That was exciting... in a stressful kind of way. And hard on the vocal chords. (Cords?).

What was that, Dan? See, it's like this: To get Rally out of the motor home to walk, she has to be picked up and set down on the ground.. while this is happening, the door swings wide open, because both hands (and attendant arms) are on the dog. This offers a golden opportunity for Mr. Sandia to make a break for it. Most of the time I've made a circus grab, on the fly, and tossed him back in before closing the door. Today, I got a finger on his collar, but he just slipped off and away he went.

To make today unique, Fanny took advantage of the wide open door while I was turned and yelling at Sandia. Just one, I can get back fairly easily. With two, I had co-enablers. Away they rushed... toward the campground office. They said hello to a lady getting into a pickup, wheeled and ran back toward me.. hey, this was going to be easy after all.

Not. They ran to a corner and peed, looked over their shoulder at this...

Yes... a cornfield. A big cornfield, with a couple of deer stands on the perimeter. The temptation was obviously too much, as they disappeared. When the dogs disappear in the deserts of New Mexico, I don't mind.. I know they'll be back. This is completely different. Farmers in Michigan, and most other states in the vicinity, shoot dogs that are chasing deer. I hoped they didn't jump any deer. I did see a sandhill crane launch more vertically than they're used to.

Meanwhile, I still had Rally on the flexi, and she hadn't peed yet, so I couldn't put her back in, and I couldn't trudge across the cornfield with her and her cast, and the long-promised rain just beginning. So I stood on the campground side yelling, and they cavorted on the opposite side. I just hoped they stayed in the field and didn't venture into the surrounding woods.

Rally finally peed. I ran back to the motor home, threw her in, grabbed my Fox 40 Classic, and ran back to the cornfield, hoping they were still in sight. I was now ready to venture into the field myself... alternatingly yelling their names and blowing the whistle.. Sandia, made a run back toward me, I brought out a dog biscuit, caught his eye... and he slowed,... and then decided he hadn't had enough exercise. Meanwhile, Fanny had disappeared from view. Then Sandia disappeared.

It had now been almost 20 minutes they'd been running loose. I was on my own, because Margaret had gone into Ann Arbor to visit her parents.. if I dropped dead in the middle of the field, no one would find me until they came through to plant new corn. I had to find them..

I was halfway across the field when Sandia approached. And stayed. I got a leash on him, gave him a biscuit that he was too exhausted to eat, (although he did remove it from my jacket pocket after we were back in the house), and we went in search of Fanny.

We got all the way across, to the foot of one of the deer stands, and she was nowhere in sight. There was a trail that sloped downhill toward Goose Lake, west of the stand... as we started down it, Fanny broke out of the woods behind us, and stood to be leashed. She was finally out of gas. But not out of surprises.

I'd thought the worse thing that could happen was that they'd be shot by some farmer. Perhaps not... Fanny was covered in burrs... including covering her right eye completely; and she'd rolled in something exotic. Crane crap? Deer carcass? It was black, and greasy, and stunk to the heavens. Great. She needed washing, and it was raining and only about 45 degrees. I didn't want to bring her in, but that was my only option.

And that's how I came to do a thorough cleaning up of the shower and the bathroom today!

Return to the Swimmin' Hole

Remember that slide show from last October? You know, the one with Sandia and Rally playing in the little temporary pond in the back corner of Windyglen? Good. We figured, if still shots are good, movies will be even better.. so Margaret took Fanny and Sandia back to the pond which, due to recent heavy rains, was much bigger... and deeper, and shot this video with the Fuji ...

Listen... maybe that's why it's called Windyglen! And look at Sandia... that's why I think he's Bipolar.

Whats the Matter With Kansas?

Hey, we're back. Miss us?

We've been on the move for the last week or so.. from Oklahoma to Kansas to Michigan. Kansas was our stop last weekend for an AKC trial outside of Wichita... which leads us to the title of this post. And no, I'm not talking about Thomas Frank's excellent book by the same name, wherein he investigates why hundreds of thousands of poor Kansans voted against their own economic self interest in the 2004 elections. (Hint: they drank the Bush KoolAid).

No, I'm talking about our own wacky experiences in Kansas. First, we stopped in the brand new Wichita World Market... where we've found a wine we really like. Once in the store, I discovered we weren't going to be there for very long. No wine and beer section! What the hell is this? When leaving, one of the employees asked if we found everything OK... that's all the invitation I needed. Like she was prescient, she said, "Ah, the liquor?... thank you, Kansas". I don't understand what convoluted statutes allow Sam's Club to have a complete liquor store attached to their building, and forbids World Market from selling wine and beer. We never did get any wine.


Then, as we were leaving the state on Sunday, we witnessed a phenomenon we saw a couple of years ago: Every Spring, Kansans set themselves on fire.

They have their reasons. Good ones it turns out, as explained at the link. It's just bizarre to drive past mile after mile of smoldering grasslands. The smell and the haze aren't all that pleasant, but they're working on that.



And then there's "Pastor" Fred Phelps in Topeka. Actually, God hates you, Fred.


Now, I don't want to leave the impression that all is bad and bleak in Kansas. Saturday night we were invited out to dinner at the Kabob House restaurant on Wichita's west side. An intimate (read: small) place, featuring Turkish and Mediterranean cuisine. This was clearly a winner. I had the "Donor Alexander Kabob".... grilled, seasoned lamb, covered with a tomato-butter sauce, together with rice and bulgar. It was sooooo good. Finished up with a delicious Turkis coffee.


Now we're back in Michigan... I'm so glad we weren't still in Kansas when Kansas University won whatever meaningless sports tournament we watched on TV last night. We might have gotten trampled by the celebratory run on the campus malt shops. "Rock. Chalk. Jayhawk." What the hell does that mean? (Can you tell my money was on Memphis?).


Michigan. Snow in the forecast for the weekend. Figures.

Ontario-friendly Whippet Products.

Now the fine, law-abiding folks of Ontario, Canada have nothing to fear about putting the Shot On Site "I'd Rather Be Coursing" sticker on their vehicles... The American (and Global... except for perhaps Saudi Arabia) "Porn" version remains on the shelves.

See also new products for Azawakh, Irish Wolfhound, Ibizan Hound, Italian Greyhound, and Pharaoh Hound! (In addition to all the original breed goodies).

Where do you get them? here, of course.