OH-IO!!!! A Buck-Eye's View of The Scarlet and Gray Craze

(This is the first of several posts regarding the "scarlet & gray."  I hope you will check them out!)

Greetings! 

We are soon entering the season where everywhere in the world (that has deciduous trees)folks will enjoy the flow of color from green to russet, orange and yellow.  Everywhere except Central Ohio that is, where the landscape turns scarlet and gray.  

Yes, I am an alumnus of "The" Ohio State University (why do they insist on using the "The?") but there are thousands upon thousands of people who aren't that are way more hardcore Buckeye football fans than I am.  I do watch it, but don't always make it through the games awake:) 

I'm not sure what the "Urban Nation" will bring.  The football program has been through the wringer.  It's disgraceful that it took the horrific events at Penn St. to draw attention away from our long-standing penchant for giving "superstar" status to folks who turn out to be common thieves, thugs, malcontents and ne'er-do-wells.  Let's face it, it's been going on since Art Schleister, (the star at the time I went there) who can't make an honest buck to save his life, then Maurice Clarett going to jail a decade-ish ago.

It's just this last fall from grace group took out a coach and a program with them (and years of wins and millions in income.  Thanks guys!  At least Woody did it to himself!)  I have to say that although Coach Tressel isn't the saint everyone thought he was, I think he was a good person who had a whole lot of pressure from the athletic dept, the school, the community and heck, the world.  There is no doubt others knew and he was forced to take the fall.  He obviously is smart enough to know he could contact the school's legal advisors without giving up confidentiality.

My niece Abby hanging out with Brutus Buckeye!  (I must admit I am a bit jealous!)

There are pros and cons to "Buckeye Fever."  

The PROS:
1)You can shop anywhere you want without waiting on game days, just don't be by the stadium before or after the game.  This also applies to away games, but that day you can shop anywhere!

2)The central Ohio grocery stores sell tons of food for tail-gating and snacks.  There are folks with grills bolted on to their truck bumpers driving around!  You can smell cookouts everywhere.

3)The local economy also gets a boost from sales of the perfunctory jerseys, hats, and foam fingers.

4)In a tough Ohio economy, it's cheap entertainment (except for the jillion dollar used-to-be hard to get tickets), something to take folk's minds off their troubles and be part of the larger picture.  Since attendance was so high, the games were almost never blacked out on TV.

5)You get to hear that awesome TDBITL (the best damn band in the land) OSU Marching Band!  They work as hard as the team, but without the perks (and the NCAA sanctions!)

Watch this OSU Marching Band's Script Ohio link!

and there are many more... but the CONS:

1) The rest of the world has to ration red dye and clothing because we use it all.

2) "Normal" people turn into lunatics wearing face paint, no shirts, wigs or whatever in public and/or scream wildly at the TV.  They sometimes are superstitious about ridiculous things.  (I was once one of them, thinking I couldn't leave the kitchen because every time I did, something awful would happen.)

3) If you aren't part of this, you are stuck with it on every media outlet 24/7 for 3 months.  There are games, pre-game shows, post-game shows, re-runs of the games on Sunday, "Buckeye Fever" shows during the week, etc.

4) I feel sorry for folks on other local college teams.  They are pretty much swept under the rug (most with good reason though.)  I can't prove it, but I think OSU football has more fans than either, or maybe both of our NFL teams.

5) The "stress" probably sends folks to the hospital since we are famous for 4th Qtr. disasters (and infrequent last minute miracles.)

No doubt there are several more cons also...

Well, that's enough for today.  I have to be at work early.  If you have additional comments, please post them through the comment section. I'd love to hear from you!

Until then, "Go Bucks!"  

Gale
OSU Class of '83

P.S.:  Saturday is a pre-season game day against Miami!

Go Bucks!  Eat Michigan!

After going 12-0 in 2012!

Legendary Coaches: Woody Hayes, Jim Tressel, Earl Bruce and now Urban Meyer.

"The Tuck" Meets His Everlasting... His Way

Author's Note:
Please understand that though we are dog lovers, "Tucker" would want me to tell the truth about him.  He was a royal-pain-in-the-*** his entire life and he didn't care.  He was always looking for adventure.  It was all about him and we were his servants. ---GW-T

Corn Row Tucker of Darby Creek

1997-2011

I really don't want everyone to think I am a "kennel-blind" snob.  I have had average dogs, dumb dogs, smart dogs, mixed breeds and pure-breds.  Between owning, showing, handling, training, boarding and grooming I have come in contact with hundreds of dogs;  many nice ones, one aforementioned (in a previous post) crazy one (well, there have been a few nut cases), but only a few great ones.  Please note that the "great" ones aren't necessarily the best pets...

Trust us...

Multi-JRTCA Working Terrier Champion and Bronze Medallion hunter Corn Row Tucker was the son of another great Jack Russell terrier named Corn Row Tyler owned/bred by Pam Simmons in KY.  Tyler won pretty much everything (including the national) in the JRTCA trials, then Pam moved over to the AKC and Tyler won Best of Breed at their first national specialty and the breed's debut at Westminster Kennel Club.  Aside from correct conformation, Tyler and Tucker also were known nationally as "smart."  We actually got calls from all around No. America asking if it was true.  (We didn't realize until later that this isn't necessarily a breed trait.)

"Tucker" displaying his lovely front and tight feet, as well as his masculine head.

Yes, often unfortunately, Tucker was smart.  He was also a very proud dog.  He was arrogant to the end.  He took advantage of every opportunity to escape or get into something.  Our whole family spent 24/7 for 14 years keeping him alive.  If you didn't out-think him, the results were immediate.  He never quit his desire to take off, though crippled from a series of strokes, deaf and blind, he died doing just that.  This is as it should have been because were debating how much longer we should keep him going.  There were some days when I was sure we would have to make the decision, then he would do better.  Mark was out of town working a lot and he needed to be here when that decision was made, so I just did would I could.  We are very grateful our neighbors found him, so he could be buried at home.

But he was no picnic to live with most of his life:

In order to maintain him, his pen door had to have a snap.  We had four-board fence with diamond mesh lining and electric horse fence around the top.  Gates needed double and triple checked.  We had to lock all the doors in the house if he was loose "visiting" and watching TV.  If he found a lapse in our security, off he went and you could follow screaming at him to come back and maybe he would acknowledge you by throwing his head over his shoulder to smirk as he kept on running.  One time (and only once) I allowed him to hang out in the cool garage with a window slightly open.  Of course, he figured out a path to climb, shoved the window up more, jumped into the bushes and took off.

"Tucker" doing what he loved

Mark loved to hunt and became a working terrier field judge.  But once Tucker got his Bronze, Mark was not too thrilled about taking him out.  The dog was an amazing hunter, but turning him loose meant you'd better keep up as Tuck would "wind" quarry and was off to the races, with briars, etc. not slowing him down.  It was pointless to call him as he never did come when called unless in a fence and wanting dinner.

Then one day we noticed him not barking and he tripped walking into our garage.  So, we raced him to the vet.  A 1 1/2 year old dog in prime condition was getting weaker by the hour.  Nobody knew what was wrong with him, especially the local vets who decided it was Lyme disease.  The meds weren't working though.  So, Mark started calling all around the country as it looked like we were going to lose him.  From top-notch university vets he got little help, but then someone mentioned a case about a coon dog and Mark started calling every good 'ol boy he could find.

The "good" news was Mark figured out what was wrong.  It was called "Coonhound Paralysis."  It is caused by swapping spit with an infected raccoon and getting some kind of microscopic worm.  It takes two weeks for the animal to look/act ill.  Exactly two weeks earlier, Tucker got into it with some coons.  He won the battle, but apparently not the war.  Nobody around here had ever heard of it and Tucker wasn't getting the right help.  Mark took him to Ohio State's Vet Clinic at midnight, where they had a respirator and 24 hour supervision available.  Apparently, the dog can get so weak they can't breathe.   The only "antidote" is to worm them hard after raccoon exposure, but it was a moot point by the time we found out.  This mega-scary (and mega-buck) adventure was just beginning.

Tucker went from bad to worse and was completely paralyzed, but he wound up not needing the respirator.  Apparently, it always gets bad before it gets better (and often they died) and we were told by the coon hunters we would have to wait it out as there wasn't a cure other then physical therapy and the physical/mental strength of the dog.  The neurologist who decided it was more important to go out to dinner and a movie, finally made it in to the clinic the next day.  He didn't believe Mark and without our knowledge, he performed exploratory surgery.  Besides a huge bill, the only other thing we got out of it was "yep, he's paralyzed."  Really?  He needed to operate to tell us that?

Mark was fit to be tied and said he was on his way to get him.  They said no.  Since Tuck had stabilized without the respirator there wasn't really any reason for him to stay.  From there on out it would be hand feeding and carrying him out to potty (Tucker was a clean dog and peeing the bed would mortify him.  He only pooped if Mark could find a bush while we were traveling. )  The vet folks argued, but Mark brought him home.

As handsome as he was, we only have a few good photos of him.  This was taken by a friend.

The "experts" said he would likely at least limp for the rest of his life.  But Mark was determined not to let that happen, especially on such a young, strong dog.  So, we took turns every two hours flipping him on the egg crate mattress, spoon feeding him and putting him on his back to work his joints.  In a few days he was standing on his own, but didn't walk for awhile.  It took a month before he was acting half-way normal.  He never did limp.

A few months later, Tucker started winning conformation trials, siring litters and acting 90% of his old self.  He never really got back his speed, though he could still out-run you and most dogs.  He couldn't stand to be cold and now and then he would get mopey and we would worry that it would come back.  He lived nearly 14 years, but I still think a lot of his health problems at the end were associated with that paralysis.

"Tuck" winning one of many Working Terrier Championships, even after contracting Coonhound Paralysis.

But we had many good years.  Folks used to call and thank us for not showing up at trials with him.  (Mark had to work for a living!)  Though Tucker hated to show--you could tell he thought it was dumb--some days he decided to humor us and pulled it together.   (He did like the "star" treatment!)  If it didn't involve hunting or girls, he really didn't care.  He had quite a following though.  The British judges loved his big head and narrow chest.  He never did "blow up" in the chest and was narrow and flexible all of his life.  He could fold nose to tail which is good when you are working underground and need to get out quickly.

Tucker was very controlling and relentless.  He hated all other male dogs.  Like most jack russells, he was racist.  They don't like dogs "of color."  If you weren't like them, you were their enemy.  Cats also generally have a limited life span around them.  He could catch wild birds.

He had several levels of barking:
"bark" delay "bark" delay "bark bark" meant dinner time.  He ate at 4:30 p.m. and would start in about 4:15.  He wouldn't stop if it took all night until he got fed.  He never said much at breakfast unless we were really late.  Whining, shrill barks were for hunting.  Howling barks were saved for the middle of the night when we had a bitch in season around.  It would drive you to drink until you put him in a crate next to our bed and shook it.  Then, he had the regular bark for when someone pulled up to the house.

He destroyed every toy he ever had.  We went through several Kung Fu bears that would say HI-YA! if it was squeezed.  He came unglued over that toy.  Mark bought him a so-called "indestructible" toy perfect for jack russells.  He returned the pieces to the vendor in less than 15 minutes.  They asked if he wanted a replacement and he said "What for?"

"Tucker" in winter coat with his umpteenth Kung Fu bear.

I'm sure there are many more stories I've forgotten to include.  He was a character to say the least.  Though he is gone, he will not be forgotten.  If any of you have stories about him to share, please post them in the comments.  We would love to hear them!

Until next time,

Gale

"Pull!" Gale "Annie" Gets Her Gun

(Check out the latest on what folks are sayin' 'bout "The Creek"...http://www.somethingwagging.com/2012/08/02/the-guilt-free-blog-award-edition/)

Good Morning (Afternoon, Evening, Night) Faithful Readers,

It could be (and has been) said that my husband and I are "hobby-aholics."  Although we've settled down a bit over the years, I think one's brain functions better when they learn new things.

So many of you won't find it hard to believe that "Santa" gave me a shotgun in the mid-1990s.  We needed to find something to do together that didn't involve young kids... this would definitely fit the bill.  Ironically, we lived more than 45 minutes from Mad River Sportsman's Club when we were shooting. We moved to within 15 minutes-ish thirteen years ago and haven't been there since.

Like with most "extreme" (to me) hobbies, it started with Mark.  He had guns before and is very knowledgeable about collecting, repairing, etc.  I, of course, had never even touched one (just like the motorcyle post. "Harley & Me"--see index.)  I still have some fear of handling my Browning Semi-Automatic, but that's probably a good thing.

Mark hired a coach and suggested I take a few lessons.  Nobody could explain it, but I hit most everything.  I still have some of the shells.  One of my best physical attributes used to be my vision.   That must have been why I was "Gale-Annie" Oakley LOL!  (BTW, my middle name is Ann.)

Another step to improve my accuracy was to have my gun "fitted" by a master gunsmith near Bowling Green, OH.  You take him the gun, he runs some tests on you and decides what will make you a better shot.  Then he makes some adjustments.  I will NEVER forget our conversation as I am sailing through the tests busting up target after target:  Me (giddily laughing):  "Tom, I have no idea what I'm doing!"  Tom (with major look of disbelief):  "You know what, I believe you!  There is no logical reason for it as you are all over when you aim, then you magically wind up at the right place! "

A bit deflating, but true.  Oh well, I can live with "dumb luck" as it appears to impress those around me.  I did have a hard time answering questions involving my "technique."  I'm afraid I wasn't much help to them.  I don't know isn't a definitive answer!  I do believe in shooting ahead of a target, but that's the only sound advice I have.

Of course shooting a 12 gauge shotgun isn't nearly as hard as shooting with a rifle because you can still get a piece of something in the shot pattern.  A bullet either hits or misses.  So, I am not an expert by any stretch of even my vivid imagination.  BUT...

Mark thought it would be fun to test our skills during a real tournament with real rules as well as folks that really shoot.  It wasn't just a little tournament either.  Mark is methodical and very good, so was in a much bigger, more advanced class.  I went into the women's non-pro class with maybe five times ever shooting in my life.  Lo and behold, this shotgun packin' mama actually won a trophy!  I scanned it for proof...LOL!

It proudly hangs alone on the wall among Mark's many awards:

If it wasn't so expensive, Mark and I would probably still be doing this every now and then.  But, it was fun while it lasted.  I highly suggest at least trying it once.  Your local club will rent you a gun and provide everything you need.  For more info on a place in your area try "Sporting Clay" magazine either at the store or online.

Until next time,

Gale "Annie"

Some Things Just Aren't Funny I: Puppy Mills

1/27/2015:  I just saw a preview of the "Go Daddy" Superbowl ad promotes puppy mills and I am appalled on so many levels.  Those of us who breed and show purebred dogs are very careful and selective about where our puppies go (and go to great expense in our care, selection and guarantees).  We all find it despicable that there are people who call themselves "breeders" who prostitute their dogs and sell from a website, then ship them to people without caring where they go as long as their credit card clears.  This ad not only shows that, but that the puppy came back home only to have the "breeder" tell them to "get back on the truck!"  Please know they aren't breeders, but frankly, "screwers of dogs for profit only."  NEVER, EVER BUY A DOG FROM A WEBSITE!  YOU WON'T GET WHAT YOU PAID FOR AND WORSE, YOU ARE KEEPING DISREPUTABLE PEOPLE IN BUSINESS!

This article addresses puppy mills and backyard breeders.  It was a bad situation then, but worse now with internet sales...


Hi,
I had a nice blog all finished for you except for one photo that I can't find.  Until then, I thought I would share something from many years ago.  It's not funny, but I think it's still informative.  It won numerous awards in its day including "Writer's Digest" and Dog Writers' Association of America honors.

Now, there are a few differences in pet marketing since the 1980s---we've managed to get many pet stores to either quit selling puppies or at least they are placing shelter puppies.  We "dog folk" don't patronize pet stores that sell dogs, especially since the advent of pet supply stores.  That's a good thing.  

However, we didn't have to deal with the internet back then and now we do.  I can't stress enough that you should never buy a dog online.  This isn't a lawn mower part, it is a living thing.  You can't believe everything you read and that is really true with websites.  Most are in it totally for the money.  They aren't scrupulous in their sales--they don't care where the pups they "manufacture" go, they are overpriced and poor quality, they'll ship anywhere and sometimes they take your money, then you never see any puppy or not the one you "ordered."  Often the dogs live in the same disgusting environment called a "puppy mill" that you will be reading about shortly.

Another marketing issue is so-called "designer dogs."  Don't be fooled into thinking these are anything but overpriced mutts.  Labra-doodles will never be a real breed, nor will yorkie-poos, cock-a-poos or any other poo...  My blood pressure goes up every time someone tells me they bought a mutt for huge bucks when there are so many deserving dogs at shelters and pounds for the price of shots and spay/neuters.  These folks prey on people's emotions and in most cases, lack of knowledge.

Anyway, I will get back to humor next time, but for now please read and share this post.  I saved it as a PDF, but can't seem to get it to work, so please forgive me once again if this is a bit hard to read.  There are six pages, with unavoidable gaps between.  Whenever I tried to cut it out it shrunk the words!)

Until next time,

Gale