flaps40. Go find another thread to hijack and @#$! off.
I have lost both a family member and pet - they are both painful. Pets are a gift.
To All our Bitches
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just another pilot
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niss
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I have watched both my dog and my grandfathers conditions degrade as a result of horrible diseses. Both of them layed there weak and shaking waiting to die.
Will I say that my dog was equal to or more important than my grandfathers death?
But both were equally hard to accept. If you loose your best (Human) friend or a family member, the loss is the same to you. How come people view best friend as family members but some can not accept a pet as a family member? Neither are related to you. If anything the pet makes more sense if you take into account that it lives in your home and you take care of it. Just like it takes care of you.
Not trying to belittle anyones losses, it hurts like hell no matter how many leggs your companion has, but just trying to give a little insight anyway.
Will I say that my dog was equal to or more important than my grandfathers death?
But both were equally hard to accept. If you loose your best (Human) friend or a family member, the loss is the same to you. How come people view best friend as family members but some can not accept a pet as a family member? Neither are related to you. If anything the pet makes more sense if you take into account that it lives in your home and you take care of it. Just like it takes care of you.
Not trying to belittle anyones losses, it hurts like hell no matter how many leggs your companion has, but just trying to give a little insight anyway.
She’s built like a Steakhouse, but she handles like a Bistro.
Let's kick the tires, and light the fires.... SHIT! FIRE! EMERGENCY CHECKLIST!
Let's kick the tires, and light the fires.... SHIT! FIRE! EMERGENCY CHECKLIST!
To alll our bitches
Best thing about animals is that they love you unconditionally, they don't care what you look like, how much you make or how many hours you have logged. I've always been leery about people who don't like animals.
There are days where I like my pets more than the human folk, related or not!
There are days where I like my pets more than the human folk, related or not!
......Last of the Rebel Road Sistas
If you don't jump, How will you know if you can fly?
DON'T BE A Wii-TARD
If you don't jump, How will you know if you can fly?
DON'T BE A Wii-TARD
Dogs and cats also tend to excellent judges of character. There are of course exceptions (the Lab that loves everyone, and the Blue Heeler that hates everyone).
For the most part, they are far more adept on picking up on non-verbal cues than we humans. A person's body language and scent speak volumes to an animal...signs that we humans are generally oblivious to.
A lot of smart people look to their pets to pass judgement on a new romantic prospect...and with good reason. No matter how slick a con artist may be, they'll have a hard time fooling your pet.
On the flip side, no matter how awkward or socially impaired someone is, that same pet can tell if they've got their heart in the right place.
We may be the dominant species on the planet, but we're not always the best at figuring things out.
For the most part, they are far more adept on picking up on non-verbal cues than we humans. A person's body language and scent speak volumes to an animal...signs that we humans are generally oblivious to.
A lot of smart people look to their pets to pass judgement on a new romantic prospect...and with good reason. No matter how slick a con artist may be, they'll have a hard time fooling your pet.
On the flip side, no matter how awkward or socially impaired someone is, that same pet can tell if they've got their heart in the right place.
We may be the dominant species on the planet, but we're not always the best at figuring things out.
Please don't tell my mother that I work in the Oilpatch...she still thinks that I'm the piano player at a whorehouse.
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shitdisturber
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w squared, about the only thing you said that I take issue with is that Labs love everybody. Just ask the couple of winos that on different occasions came up to my truck trying to scrounch hooch money off me. Thought the mutt was going to go right through the window after them; especially impressive when you consider the window was closed both times! Needless to say they decided to find someone else to bother for handouts!
I guess I wasn't 100% clear on that. Not all labs love everybody, and not all Blue Heelers hate everybody. In the right situation, any dog can be agressive, and any dog can be friendly.
I was just saying that not every dog will bother listening to the signals that their "radar" is sending them...there are some that are so good-natured and friendly that they see everyone as a new playmate, and some that are so suspicious and territorial that they view anyone "new" as a threat (or at least a potential threat).
I wish that my lifestyle allowed me to have a lab
I was just saying that not every dog will bother listening to the signals that their "radar" is sending them...there are some that are so good-natured and friendly that they see everyone as a new playmate, and some that are so suspicious and territorial that they view anyone "new" as a threat (or at least a potential threat).
I wish that my lifestyle allowed me to have a lab
Please don't tell my mother that I work in the Oilpatch...she still thinks that I'm the piano player at a whorehouse.
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shitdisturber
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N2, be grateful I only called you a wino, the mutt wanted to call you "lunch". Luckily for him I'm always concerned about his diet and would never let him eat something that might make him sick.N2 wrote:Hey..I resent being called a wino...cripes a guy can't even bum fuel money these days.
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Springbok 2
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A couple of years ago I had a Staffordshire Bullterrier. His name was Bismarck and I got him from a friend when he was 4 years old. Anyone who has owned or worked with Staffies will tell you about their amazing tenacity, badger-like toughness and their gentle and loving nature. They also have jaws of steel and when they clamp down, they are reluctant to release. If any of you have seen the movie called “Jock of the Bushveld”, you will know what I refer to. Bismarck was the splitting image of the dog used in the movie. Light brown with a small white diamond on his chest. His only bad habit was his fascination with a beer can and his love of beer. As a special treat, I used to feed him a beer can which he would puncture and then drink at his leisure coupled with all the required slobbering and smacking of his chops.
Anyway, back to the story of how Bismarck saved my life.
I was acting as a safari guide working in the South Luangwa valley in Zambia. This function entailed leading small groups of 6 to 8 people on a walk into the game park. As guides leading tourists, we would always work in tandem. I regularly worked with a local Zambian guy by the name of Moses. During a walk we would both lead at point with the visitors strung out behind us in single file. It was our job to get the tourists as close as safely possible to all game species and at the same time we would tell them about the respective animal’s habits and give out other interesting tidbits which were generally not common knowledge. We also stopped to point out other interesting bush phenomenon such as tracks or spoor, scat and territorial markings left by larger games such as elephant, buffalo and rhino. We also pointed out interesting insect and plant life to keep everyone entertained along the way when the game was not in view. These walks covered a distance of at least 8 to 10 kilometers and we usually set off just before sunrise each day at the time when the African bush starts its wakeup call.
Prior to the start of each walk we gave the visitors a briefing where we laid down the rules and advised them of what the drills were in the case of a potentially hazardous encounter with big game. The rules were simple:
Silence or talk in whispers at all times. Never run! All the game we would encounter would easily outrun a human. If things got hairy, the folk were reminded to follow our explicit instructions and to always position themselves behind our rifles and to allow us to ct as the final line of defence. We were trained as heavy caliber rifle marksmen but the firing of a “shot to kill” was considered a last resort. Instead we mostly relied on our understanding of the specific animal. Essentially, all game is territorial and they have their own personal space. The art is to never antagonize the animal and never to invade this personal space. Sometimes this is not possible because in thick bush, one could easily find yourself within feet of big game and a confrontation would be on the cards. In most cases, we would only resort to a warning shot if there was no chance of a subtle withdrawal. If we found ourselves close to big five game but in a downwind position, we almost always guaranteed a quiet withdrawal without the animal even being aware of our presence.
Now, prior to taking tourist out on walks, one or both of us would walk a new route and plan the walk to take us close to heavily populated areas such as water holes, thick wooded areas for cover and patches of open savanna. This was designed to place the tourist amidst the full spectrum of wildlife and hopefully get close to the big 5, namely, lion, rhino, elephant, buffalo and leopard. On one such “mapping” walk, I went alone armed with a .375 Holland & Holland and I took Bismarck along for company. He was very good at locating game and then just standing still with his head cocked in the direction of the sighting. Moses had informed of black rhinoceros sightings in a wooded area close to the banks of the Luangwa River and I wanted to see if the rumors were true.
Although there is no difference in their actual skin coloring, black rhino are very different to their kin, the white rhino. They both have light grey skin. The black rhino are smaller in stature, meaner in temper and there are browsers, preferring thicker bush. They have a triangular shaped upper lip allowing them to pinch off tasty bits of shrub. White rhino are grazers and they have a wide, flat lower lip. Originally they were named “wyd” rhino. The word “wyd” is Anglo-Dutch meaning wide and referring to the lip shape and not the color. Over the years, the word ”wyd” simply became bastardized into “white. White rhino also have a kinder temperament and are not as half as volatile as their cousins are. Another interesting difference is the way the females act when they have young calves. Besides both being murderously protective, the black rhino will lead a charge with the calf following in the mothers wake. It is believed that because they are mainly found in thick bush, the mother ploughs a path through the tough thorn and bush and baby follows mom along the fresh track. Because white rhino are found in more open grassland, the calves always lead the charge and mom comes trundling on behind baby. One therefore has better injury free survival odds with white rhino. You can get out of the way from baby before mom appears on the scene seconds later. They are fast animals with a VNE of at least 50 mph. Both animals have very weak eyesight but are blessed with extremely strong senses of smell and acute hearing. Staying downwind when approaching these animals is therefore crucial.
Anyway, I was cruising the river bank looking for rhino tracks, found fresh spoor and followed them into thicker bush and about 5 minutes later, the shit hit the fan. Out of nowhere, I heard and then saw a large black rhino appear out of a thicket. The rhino hit me on the right hip with its shoulder and knocked me into the base of a tree where I sat stunned. My rifle was flung away to my left and lying about 10 feet away. As I started my recovery, I once again heard a sound like a steam train coming from the same direction and baby made its dramatic appearance. I slid around the base of the tree to avoid being flattened and everything went quiet. I looked for Bismarck and saw him facing the direction the rhino had taken. He remained very alert and his attention was riveted on what seemed to me like a wall of bush. It was then that I realized that mom was on her way back. I tried to scramble up the tree but my right leg was lame and felt like pins and needles. Every time I tried to climb, I lost my footing and slid down. I could hear the rhino thundering through the bush towards me and I knew that I was going to be history if she got a good bead on my scent. I always used to pass on sound advice to clients when they encountered a rhino that was prepared to charge. Firstly, look for a tree to climb, second, if they is not one big enough to climb, find one to hide behind. Lastly, if there are no trees nearby, stand still and pretend you are a tree! Well, at least I had a tree and could hobble around the base and hope to avoid contact with 3 tonnes of pissed off mommy rhino. Even avoiding the 1200 lb baby would be a bargain. As she came closer, Bismarck stood his ground and started to bark madly. As she got nearer, I tried climbing again to no avail. Mommy then thundered into view, Bismarck leaped at her hind quarters and latched himself onto her tail…probably by accident more than his intention. She came flying into the base of the tree that I was cowered behind and I felt the impact in my back as the tree shook. She drew back and started moving in circles as she tried to dislodge a 65 pound mutt from her tail. Her widening circles of panic took her away from the base of the tree and I slowly retrieved my rifle as Bismarck kept her busy. I chambered a round and fired into the ground at her feet. She went absolutely ballistic and charged off into the bush again with a Staffie firmly attached for the ride. As the feeling returned to my leg and as I discovered to my relief that it was not broken, I followed at a slow pace. Unbelievably, this entire encounter had only occupied a mere 90 seconds of my life.
I found old Bismarck about 800 feet down the track where he sat panting in the shade. The rhino were nowhere to be seen. I returned to base camp, took some Voltaren anti-inflammatory tablets and sucked on a cold beer for both Bismarck and I. A toast to his heroism was in order. Needless to say, Moses and I revised the route to avoid this area. It would have been absolute chaos had something like that happened with 8 tourists on tow.
Anyway, back to the story of how Bismarck saved my life.
I was acting as a safari guide working in the South Luangwa valley in Zambia. This function entailed leading small groups of 6 to 8 people on a walk into the game park. As guides leading tourists, we would always work in tandem. I regularly worked with a local Zambian guy by the name of Moses. During a walk we would both lead at point with the visitors strung out behind us in single file. It was our job to get the tourists as close as safely possible to all game species and at the same time we would tell them about the respective animal’s habits and give out other interesting tidbits which were generally not common knowledge. We also stopped to point out other interesting bush phenomenon such as tracks or spoor, scat and territorial markings left by larger games such as elephant, buffalo and rhino. We also pointed out interesting insect and plant life to keep everyone entertained along the way when the game was not in view. These walks covered a distance of at least 8 to 10 kilometers and we usually set off just before sunrise each day at the time when the African bush starts its wakeup call.
Prior to the start of each walk we gave the visitors a briefing where we laid down the rules and advised them of what the drills were in the case of a potentially hazardous encounter with big game. The rules were simple:
Silence or talk in whispers at all times. Never run! All the game we would encounter would easily outrun a human. If things got hairy, the folk were reminded to follow our explicit instructions and to always position themselves behind our rifles and to allow us to ct as the final line of defence. We were trained as heavy caliber rifle marksmen but the firing of a “shot to kill” was considered a last resort. Instead we mostly relied on our understanding of the specific animal. Essentially, all game is territorial and they have their own personal space. The art is to never antagonize the animal and never to invade this personal space. Sometimes this is not possible because in thick bush, one could easily find yourself within feet of big game and a confrontation would be on the cards. In most cases, we would only resort to a warning shot if there was no chance of a subtle withdrawal. If we found ourselves close to big five game but in a downwind position, we almost always guaranteed a quiet withdrawal without the animal even being aware of our presence.
Now, prior to taking tourist out on walks, one or both of us would walk a new route and plan the walk to take us close to heavily populated areas such as water holes, thick wooded areas for cover and patches of open savanna. This was designed to place the tourist amidst the full spectrum of wildlife and hopefully get close to the big 5, namely, lion, rhino, elephant, buffalo and leopard. On one such “mapping” walk, I went alone armed with a .375 Holland & Holland and I took Bismarck along for company. He was very good at locating game and then just standing still with his head cocked in the direction of the sighting. Moses had informed of black rhinoceros sightings in a wooded area close to the banks of the Luangwa River and I wanted to see if the rumors were true.
Although there is no difference in their actual skin coloring, black rhino are very different to their kin, the white rhino. They both have light grey skin. The black rhino are smaller in stature, meaner in temper and there are browsers, preferring thicker bush. They have a triangular shaped upper lip allowing them to pinch off tasty bits of shrub. White rhino are grazers and they have a wide, flat lower lip. Originally they were named “wyd” rhino. The word “wyd” is Anglo-Dutch meaning wide and referring to the lip shape and not the color. Over the years, the word ”wyd” simply became bastardized into “white. White rhino also have a kinder temperament and are not as half as volatile as their cousins are. Another interesting difference is the way the females act when they have young calves. Besides both being murderously protective, the black rhino will lead a charge with the calf following in the mothers wake. It is believed that because they are mainly found in thick bush, the mother ploughs a path through the tough thorn and bush and baby follows mom along the fresh track. Because white rhino are found in more open grassland, the calves always lead the charge and mom comes trundling on behind baby. One therefore has better injury free survival odds with white rhino. You can get out of the way from baby before mom appears on the scene seconds later. They are fast animals with a VNE of at least 50 mph. Both animals have very weak eyesight but are blessed with extremely strong senses of smell and acute hearing. Staying downwind when approaching these animals is therefore crucial.
Anyway, I was cruising the river bank looking for rhino tracks, found fresh spoor and followed them into thicker bush and about 5 minutes later, the shit hit the fan. Out of nowhere, I heard and then saw a large black rhino appear out of a thicket. The rhino hit me on the right hip with its shoulder and knocked me into the base of a tree where I sat stunned. My rifle was flung away to my left and lying about 10 feet away. As I started my recovery, I once again heard a sound like a steam train coming from the same direction and baby made its dramatic appearance. I slid around the base of the tree to avoid being flattened and everything went quiet. I looked for Bismarck and saw him facing the direction the rhino had taken. He remained very alert and his attention was riveted on what seemed to me like a wall of bush. It was then that I realized that mom was on her way back. I tried to scramble up the tree but my right leg was lame and felt like pins and needles. Every time I tried to climb, I lost my footing and slid down. I could hear the rhino thundering through the bush towards me and I knew that I was going to be history if she got a good bead on my scent. I always used to pass on sound advice to clients when they encountered a rhino that was prepared to charge. Firstly, look for a tree to climb, second, if they is not one big enough to climb, find one to hide behind. Lastly, if there are no trees nearby, stand still and pretend you are a tree! Well, at least I had a tree and could hobble around the base and hope to avoid contact with 3 tonnes of pissed off mommy rhino. Even avoiding the 1200 lb baby would be a bargain. As she came closer, Bismarck stood his ground and started to bark madly. As she got nearer, I tried climbing again to no avail. Mommy then thundered into view, Bismarck leaped at her hind quarters and latched himself onto her tail…probably by accident more than his intention. She came flying into the base of the tree that I was cowered behind and I felt the impact in my back as the tree shook. She drew back and started moving in circles as she tried to dislodge a 65 pound mutt from her tail. Her widening circles of panic took her away from the base of the tree and I slowly retrieved my rifle as Bismarck kept her busy. I chambered a round and fired into the ground at her feet. She went absolutely ballistic and charged off into the bush again with a Staffie firmly attached for the ride. As the feeling returned to my leg and as I discovered to my relief that it was not broken, I followed at a slow pace. Unbelievably, this entire encounter had only occupied a mere 90 seconds of my life.
I found old Bismarck about 800 feet down the track where he sat panting in the shade. The rhino were nowhere to be seen. I returned to base camp, took some Voltaren anti-inflammatory tablets and sucked on a cold beer for both Bismarck and I. A toast to his heroism was in order. Needless to say, Moses and I revised the route to avoid this area. It would have been absolute chaos had something like that happened with 8 tourists on tow.
Last edited by Springbok 2 on Tue Apr 18, 2006 5:24 am, edited 1 time in total.
HAPPY ARE THOSE WHO DREAM DREAMS AND ARE WILLING TO PAY THE PRICE TO SEE THEM COME TRUE: CARL BOENISH
That was an awesome story! Kudos to your dog.
I spent most of the 70's in Africa - born in Zambia and ended up in Tanzania. I remember the bush and the animals and the warm rains. We were also chased by a rhino once, but we were in a landrover so it made it a little easier.
For some reason now I'm thirsty, so I think I'll have a beer
I spent most of the 70's in Africa - born in Zambia and ended up in Tanzania. I remember the bush and the animals and the warm rains. We were also chased by a rhino once, but we were in a landrover so it made it a little easier.
For some reason now I'm thirsty, so I think I'll have a beer
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Springbok 2
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Sully, where in Zambia. My Dad was born in Ndola, grew up in Luansha and went to school in Salisbury, Rhodesia. He boxed for Northern Rhodesia and was a mine Captain on the copper mines before emigrating to SA in 1960 where I was born.
HAPPY ARE THOSE WHO DREAM DREAMS AND ARE WILLING TO PAY THE PRICE TO SEE THEM COME TRUE: CARL BOENISH
I was born in Luanshya actually.
We lived there, then Blantyre in Malawi, then moved to Tanzania, just south of Dar es Salaam.
My parents met in Canada, then went to Africa on contract with CUSO, a development organization - building schools, digging wells, that sort of thing. Once I grew older they felt I should get a North American education, so we moved (back) to Canada, to Saskatoon, Sask. where I spent my teenage years and twenties. I tell ya, it was a bit of an adjustment going from +40 to -40
It was funny in school - around grade 5 the school nurse came into our class and gave all of us our immunization records - most of the kids had like 3 entries on theirs and I had 3 full pages as a result of all the shots I got in Africa to keep the dreaded diseases at bay.
I managed to avoid most of the bad ones, and the only thing I got (other than mumps etc) was Bilharzia (http://www.escargot.ch/personel/schisto.htm), which the nice Saskatonian doctors cured with a bunch of big purple pills.
I would love to return to Africa one day - my parents went back for a vacation a long time ago, but I haven't been back since we moved to Canada. I have great memories of the wildlife and the friendly people and the ocean.
When is the last time you were there?
We lived there, then Blantyre in Malawi, then moved to Tanzania, just south of Dar es Salaam.
My parents met in Canada, then went to Africa on contract with CUSO, a development organization - building schools, digging wells, that sort of thing. Once I grew older they felt I should get a North American education, so we moved (back) to Canada, to Saskatoon, Sask. where I spent my teenage years and twenties. I tell ya, it was a bit of an adjustment going from +40 to -40
It was funny in school - around grade 5 the school nurse came into our class and gave all of us our immunization records - most of the kids had like 3 entries on theirs and I had 3 full pages as a result of all the shots I got in Africa to keep the dreaded diseases at bay.
I managed to avoid most of the bad ones, and the only thing I got (other than mumps etc) was Bilharzia (http://www.escargot.ch/personel/schisto.htm), which the nice Saskatonian doctors cured with a bunch of big purple pills.
I would love to return to Africa one day - my parents went back for a vacation a long time ago, but I haven't been back since we moved to Canada. I have great memories of the wildlife and the friendly people and the ocean.
When is the last time you were there?
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Springbok 2
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I left in December 2003. Am due to go back for a visit as the folks live in George, South Africa. Besides the folks, the only other thing I miss is the bush.
I lived in Blantyre, Malawi from 1991 to 1994 and then again from 1997 to 2001. I still have a good mate in Blantyre and he confirms that is has turned into a real dump.
I had to leave Malawi after my immune system battled with Malaria which I was contracting at least once every six weeks. I was being treated by a Canadian doctor by the name of Cattehorn and he warned that kidney or liver failure would be next due to all the anti-malarial drugs being consumed and the fact that I was unable to use a profilactic drug.
I lived in Blantyre, Malawi from 1991 to 1994 and then again from 1997 to 2001. I still have a good mate in Blantyre and he confirms that is has turned into a real dump.
I had to leave Malawi after my immune system battled with Malaria which I was contracting at least once every six weeks. I was being treated by a Canadian doctor by the name of Cattehorn and he warned that kidney or liver failure would be next due to all the anti-malarial drugs being consumed and the fact that I was unable to use a profilactic drug.
HAPPY ARE THOSE WHO DREAM DREAMS AND ARE WILLING TO PAY THE PRICE TO SEE THEM COME TRUE: CARL BOENISH
Ahh, Malaria. More than one of my parent's aquaintances contracted Malaria. No fun at all. I feel for you, and I hope the change in climate and environment has slowed down the recurrences.
As far as missing the bush, I agree with you. The vast countryside, watching the rain clouds move in from the ocean or watching a billion ostriches run across the road, those are things you can't get anywhere else.
As far as missing the bush, I agree with you. The vast countryside, watching the rain clouds move in from the ocean or watching a billion ostriches run across the road, those are things you can't get anywhere else.
