Hard Head Meets Horse Hoof

Of Hard Heads and Not-So-Miniature Horses

Our baby girl, our OEB (Old English Bulldog) Dixie, has the hardest head of anyone I know. Stubborn Taureans, bulls, and helmeted football players be damned. This is THE most stubborn and thick-skulled gal I know.

She has recently made the acquaintance of our BFF’s miniature horse Honey. For some reason she is obsessed with Honey’s rectum.

Now, just to be clear, yes Honey is a miniature horse. BUT, it seems that she is the biggest damn miniature horse around. She grew too much and is just a bit too tall to compete in miniature horse competitions. I guess that makes her a giant dwarf? I’m not really sure how that works, only what I’ve been told from BFF. But, I digress.

Whenever the two of them are in the same vicinity Dixie will always be found with her big, wrinkled head up underneath Honey’s long, beautiful tail. What does she do under there??

Well, she sniffs…A LOT; she licks her inner thighs; she sniffs her tummy; and she tries to get her little, dolphin-like, blowhole of a nose up as close to her rectum as is physically possible with her stubby bowlegs and even shorter neck.

Does Honey appreciate all of this doting attention?

OH NO, she does not. No sirree, Bob.

How does Honey tolerate all of this persistent attention?

Well, at first she was pretty patient. Then she began to swing her long neck around and put a hard eye on Dixie.

Did Dixie notice? Did she seem concerned? NOPE, oblivious.

We all watched from a distance and had our own running commentary of their interaction. I felt like Marv Albert while trying to interpret their interspecies discourse to my seven-year-old daughter.

In my efforts to gently discourage Dixie from overwhelming Honey, and completely invading her personal space while in her own scent-induced oblivion, I would give her sing-song praise every time she turned her head or body away from Honey. This was my way of gently encouraging Dixie to increase her intermittent pauses and hopefully walk away from the little horse and turn her attention to more pressing matters like playing with one of the kids or coming to me for a favorite wrinkled head rub.

Alas, it was not to be. When Honey would begin to feel her tolerance reaching its max she would raise a rear leg and splay it for the dog to see that she was ready to kick at any time.

Poor Dixie. She really CAN be quite intelligent. It just happens that when her little bulldog brain is fixated on any visceral instinct I swear her IQ drops in half.

All was fine until Honey decided to run. Suddenly she was prey to Dixie’s predator. Off they went.

This happened a few times, over the course of a few days, until the predictable, inevitable conclusion that resulted in Dixie being kicked squarely in the eyebrow by a fleeing Honey.

I didn’t see it. I heard it from across the acreage. A quick, high-pitched whine from Dixie and suddenly she was no longer in hot pursuit. The next thing I knew she was skulking back to me, ears laid back flat against her huge skull, with a small gash in the middle of a large lump above her left eye.

“That’ll learn ya!” was my first thought.

“Aw, my POOR wittle BABY!” was my second thought.

My third was laughter.

Dang stupid bulldog.

I wonder how long it’ll be before she pesters Honey’s hind end again??

Too funny.


What’s a Country Gal ta do?

Mama. aka Beauty Queen / Service Dog / Mutt / Escape Artist

What’s a Country Gal ta do?

Having recently moved to a rural area my former foster dog, Mama, who is a STUNNINGLY beautiful dog of very mixed heritage and who is also my loyal service dog…whew, that’s quite the intro, eh?

…anyhoo, she has not been at my service as much of late as I have been a bit of a recluse these past few months. She has been simply DYING of needing a J.O.B.

And what’s a smart girl like her to do without enough adventure?

Go out and seek her own.

Smarty Pants has a knack for finding weak spots in our perimeter fencing and gates. While driving me out of my mind, out of my solitude, and out over all of these rural, bumpy ass damn roads in search of her adventurous self…at all hours!

The first time we had to search for her she had escaped with her P.I.C. You know, her Partner In Crime, her little buddy whom I affectionately call Bo-Knows.

Bo-Knows earned his nickname because he is a short and squat, GORGEOUS red nose pit bull (a former champion fighting dog who was…ahem, rescued…from his former life of torturous hell) who is built like a brick shit house.

He earned this moniker because he reminds me of the Bo Jackson, of baseball and football fame, who was in so many advertisements years ago with his supremely muscular physique. (I seem to recall he was actually a bit taller than he looked on television as his huge muscles were so prominent on his frame that it actually made him look squat.)

So it seems that Mama gets to exploit her dearest love of herding by pursuing Bo-Knows, who himself seems to LOVE, simply ADORE, being CHASED by our beauty of a gal. Seeing the two of them play together warms and lightens our hearts. Two former dogs in dire need of rescuing who now are so loved, protected, and joyful in their play with one another. They embody zeal and pleasure when in one another’s company.

Well, on this first occasion of their escape we found Bo-Knows trapped in a cow pasture looking boringly forlorn while standing at a tall gate. He looked up at us between the bottom two bars of the gate as if to say, “Can you be of some assistance?” His pathetic acquiescence to his situation made me guffaw at his fate.

Mama had joined him in their galavanting but had completely abandoned him when he became stranded (and presumably too dull witted and/or spent to master mind his own escape). Apparently she was back at home, comfortable and in repose when we stumbled upon him just before dark. She was smart and had pranced her way back home while we were out in search mode.

Later, after a few similar joint escapades which required us searching hither and yon only to retrieve Bo-Knows from various desolate roads and intersesctions (clearly lost, exhausted, and not knowing his way home) while Mama made her way back home in our absence…the funniest damn thing happened.

One evening we found ourselves home enduring another joint escape while biding our time simply waiting for Mama to reveal herself there. As time continued to tick away we realized that she was not returning, he was not returning, and this was the longest absence they had accrued thus far. We began to be concerned. Finally we could wait no more and began to load up the SUV to search our now more familiar new ‘hood.

This time SEVERAL search parties combed the rural roads. After much time had passed none of us had had any luck finding them. We reconnoitered more than once, to no avail.

Just as we were reaching maximum frustration, imagining all sorts of rural, backwoods, horrible scenarios of neighbors shooting them for trespassing, etc. I found the headlights of my SUV alighting on a bouncy and happy Bo-Knows boy.

It was weird though.

We found him…FIRST??

And he didn’t come completely over to our SUV as he had made his habit.

Ok, yes, definitely weird.


I drove so that my headlights shone behind him and saw the funniest damn thing I had seen in quite some time!

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Who was trapped behind the big rural gate THIS TIME?? And looking quite beside herself with pent-up excitement too!

“WHEW!!” and HALLA-FREAKIN-LUJAH!” her demeanor seemed to shout. Wiggle-Hop-Pace-Pant. Wiggle-Hop-Pace-Pant.

I guffawed. The bitch was stuck, couldn’t escape on her own, and was being comforted and protected by her loyal Bo-Knows boy who refused to leave her. OH, what a good BOY!

I had to call my husband to join us. It took quite some explaining to do for him to understand exactly where we were, especially considering that this was an area which they had never been known to wander. But, we needed his assistance. Mama is about 60 pounds on her slim days; a long, tall, fluffy gal who was going to have to be hoisted up and OVER this rural gate.

I would be trespassing. Breaking the law. Ugh. But, it was worth it to save my precious, ROTTEN, girl who was in such a desperate situation.

(BTW – No one was home. The property seemed to be one that was not inhabited full-time. No assistance was forthcoming from the property owners, unfortunately. And fortunately if they were the Shoot First And Ask Questions Later kind of neighbors.)

My husband arrived, I stormed the gate, grabbed my trusty gal (who was quite damp by the evening dew at this point, L.O.L.), and hoisted her up and over the gate into my husband’s arms as she began to squirm when realizing our solution required that she defy gravity…YIKES MOM!!

They were safe.

Rotten girl had got herself stuck.

Ah, serves her well for abandoning her P.I.C. in the past. Touche’ darling, touche’.

Tug of War is Fun

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These Paws Have Wings

Life has a funny way sometimes of taking all of our well-laid plans and incinerating them. Out of the ashes of our former lives we arise like a Phoenix to embrace the new world in which we find ourselves. Such is the life of our pack.

The flames are still burning around us but our future is within sight. What do we see on the distant horizon? A journey to be made with our dog pack and clowder of beloved felines. Beautiful vistas and distant glory give us hope for a renewed life, a more authentic life.

Please, join us on our journey; and bring your faithful companions too. Life is richer and deeper when we have our four-legged companions with us on our adventures. Our dogs love to ‘ride shotgun.’ We call them our ‘Go Dogs.’ Let’s do this.