Larry Gibbons
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LEARNING CURVE

26/11/2018

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Picture
HAWK UPSETTING THE BIRDS
Before we left for Ontario, Sue was given a bottle of pain killers. She was advised to take them if she was in pain during our trip to Ontario. 

So, we’re driving on the Trans Canada somewhere on theKingston’s side of Moncton. Sue has been valiantly fighting to not take any of the pills which were in a bag on the back seat floor. Not far from Buster.


Sue finally had to give in. Her sciatica and hip were not going to let her enjoy the trip. So, she asked me to reach back and get the pills. Buster is not trained for pill fetching. 


I was driving at the time, but, what the heck. I reached back, grabbed the bottle by its top and pulled it out of the bag.


I’d almost got to handing them to Sue when the top popped off. The pills shot everywhere. At my feet, Sue’s feet and on the back seat where Buster was lying and fully alert.


​Huge existential questions suddenly became very relevant. Where the heck are all the pills? How many are in the back seat? How smart is Buster? Does he have a pill addiction problem that we are unaware of? 

Just one of many incidents that occurred during our visit to Kingston.

Picture
NEAR RIVIERE DU LOUP
Almost from the first day Buster popped into our lives he has had us in his training programs. Sometimes he holds training workshops with Sue, sometimes with me and sometimes with both of us.

One of his first evening training seminars involved his being let out to do his business. The training began when we called him back to our trailer and he came in as an obedient dog should. 


Buster then ran to the corner, stood on our little white stool and waited for one of us to clue into what to him seemed a very intuitive fact, that he wanted and deserved, by god, a treat. 


The treats were on a shelf just above the said treat stool. Of course, nowadays, after a few years of training and intense eye contact, we obediently give him a treat for almost anything. For example, he gets a treat for having fun, getting his feet dried, coming back to the trailer after we let him out, eating his meal or almost all of his meal, getting his chain unwrapped from around a post, which forces us to go outside and unwrap it, and a whole bunch of etceteras and etceteras.


Well, I noticed, a few nights ago, that another one of Buster’s training workshops had been held without my knowledge. The workshop was called Master Buffet. 


​You see, I was sitting on the couch, probably shaking my fist at CNN, when I noticed that Buster wasn’t doing his usual silent telepathic demands for a treat. He was simply jumping off the couch, whipping off to the kitchen and returning with treats in his mouth.


Picture
BUSTER'S TREAT STOOL
Apparently, he and Sue had turned the treat stool into a buffet table. Different kinds of treats were spread out on the stool. Such delicacies as Dream Sticks, Dream Fillets, Oinkies, Roll Overs, Gourmet Beefhide Double Twists, Milk Bones,(the box with the Old English Sheepdog mug shot on the cover) and the occasional peanut or chocolate chip for variety. I was surprised Sue hadn’t laid them on a nice table cloth.

Of course, I’ve also had my own individual training courses. For example, one evening, Sue was perplexed about why Buster was sitting on the floor and staring at her while we were in bed. I, however, knew what was going on because I’d taken that course. So, there he was, waiting for one of us to take a treat off the lamp stand located at the side of the bed. Because, this was where he’d taught me to place his final bed-time treat stash. 


​I really don’t know why he can’t just train us all at the same time and save the confusion.


Picture
BUSTER'S CHASE-MATE
You may have noticed that my blogs have photos and written articles and that in many cases the photos and the articles don’t match. So, you might be reading about a little house in the woods and you’d see, as you were part way through the article, a photo of Buster carrying a newspaper. 

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WOMAN OF THE WOODS
I think my photos and my writing are in competition. They see each themselves as just the best and see no need for the other. Very independent they are.

Oh well, as a friend said to me, when we were in Kingston, “I don’t know what I like better, your writing or your photos.”


​All I can say is that competition is probably good for the final results.


Picture
And speaking of comments made to me while we were in Kingsto,n I heard another interesting one. Actually, I hear plenty of interesting comments everywhere I go.

On this occasion, a friend explained that her children had told her that she seems to have dropped many of her screens and now has a tendency to say things she might not have said when she was younger.


I said,”I don’t think any of my kids have told me this.”


She said, “Why would they? You’ve never had any screens.”


Ha, ha, ha. We learn so much about ourselves when we go to Kingston.


​Buster learns that he is the sweetest, cutest, most gorgeously coloured little doggie that one could ever find in the whole wide world. I swear that his head looks a little bit bigger every time we get home.

Thus sayeth Larry.

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MOUSE IN THE HOUSE

3/11/2018

1 Comment

 
Picture
OUR ROAD IN THE FALL
“What’s that? Did I really see something or was it an eye-ball floater?”
I’m sitting in the woodshed, on an orange beach chair, in front of a huge stack of firewood. I take a sip of my elixir and, whoosh, there it is again. That black spot whipping across the floor and disappearing outside.
However, the puzzle was solved a few days later because this time Sue and Buster were sitting nearby and they saw the streaker too. Sue said it was only a wee mouse.

Picture
BUSTER'S KITTY CAT FRIENDS
I mean, I hate to admit it, but Mice creep me out. They’re so clandestine. They know how to hide and when I was a young boy I was told by an all-knowing adult that they can run up your pant leg. My imagination went wild after that piece of information.
And so, the very next day, I removed all the wood and other stuff that leaned against the wall and which had given the mouse a place to hide before he made his run for the outdoors. This offered me a clear view of his launch pad.
Picture
CAMOUFLAGED DEER
And, let’s face it, it’s autumn and definitely mouse season. So far, I’ve caught three. Poor sods. I hate killing mice.
However, let me tell you, after what happened a few nights ago I was zipping off to the hardware store to buy more traps. 
Picture
LAKE O'LAW IN THE AUTUMN
That specific night Sue had suddenly popped awake. I was worried because she sounded distressed.
“You okay?” I’d asked. 
“I think a mouse ran across my hand.” 
Oh god! A mouse in the bed. Now that’s a real emergency.
“Be brave, Larry. Keep calm, Larry.” That’s what I said to myself.
I then grabbed one of our hundreds of flashlights and searched around the mattress, under the mattress and at the back of the mattress. I found no mouse. 

​
Picture
FOX WATCHING ME
“Be brave Larry.”
Maybe I should go to the couch, turn on CNN and be enlightened by the realization that there are big rats in the world that can trump any wee mouse.
Instead, I fetched my trusty lap-top. Turned it on. Searched for music that might drive the mouse away and keep him from getting under our covers. I chose New Age music. The kind that drones on and on and on and on and annoys a person to sleep. Music that would irritate or scare or hypnotize the mouse.
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IS THIS A BAD TIME
Maybe the illumination from the computer screen would make the mouse think we were still awake and therefore a danger to be avoided.
Huge downer. The computer has a screen saver and I had to keep punching in my pass word so that the illumination and the music would stay on. I know, all you tech-savvy people could correct that problem in a minute. I’m not tech-savvy and it was one o’clock in the ^&* morning and there’s a friggen mouse only feet away and I need my sleep. 
Picture
OUR RIVER'S EASTER ISLAND HEAD
The next morning was terrifying. It was like a scene from the movie, ‘Willard’. When I rolled over, I felt the mouse. He was tucked up against my leg. 
“Oh god!!” I prayed as I so gently moved my butt away from the mouse. Attempted to lift the blankets off me without annoying the mouse.
Carefully, I lifted the blankets. Gently, as if I was disarming a bomb, did I elevate my butt off the mattress. 
Oh god!! The mouse had followed me. Chased me right out of my own bed. I jumped up. Wrenched the blankets off the bed and off Sue and before I could stop him Buster had it in his mouth. 
There Buster was. On the bed with it in his mouth. The mouse was a bone. An Oinkie. A F#$% Buster treat.
That day I bought more mouse traps and set them up around the house. 
And that night, Sue said, “I think that mouse thing  might have just been a dream, dear.”

​
Picture
MY BIKE PARKED AT LAKE O'LAW
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