Hey, it’s me again – Tynan the High on Hooking Welsh springer spaniel!

Let me start by saying how much I love my ladies. No, not the mistress. Okay, I love her too, but she’s family. You know, overly familiar. No, I love her friends, the ones who come here to hook once in a while. Better, some of them even let me go to their houses! My house is fine, but again, overly familiar. Hey, I’m ten now. I need stimulation so I don’t go all geriatric.

 

So, today’s Wednesday, the day the mistress usually gets her blog out. This week, though, she is COMPLETELY unprepared, very distracted. “I’ve got another show in a week and a half. Have to finish one table runner/wall-hanging and then hook another. All by next Friday!” If you’re not in the loop, she and Cathy Kelly (one of my lady friends) are vending at the Cinco de Mayo Folk Art Fest here in town on…May 5! Duh! Cinco de Mayo, get it? Whatever. She’s got to replace some sold merchandise and is spazzing out about it.

So, she and Cathy were visiting Ruth, another one of my ladies, this afternoon, and, apparently, the mistress bitched about the blog, thought about not posting this week when Ruth and Cathy made a fabulous suggestion. “What about having Tynan do it this week? He did such a bang-up job with the Pagosa Springs post. We’re sure he’d be happy to sub in for you again.” (You can see why I love them. They get me.) So, here I am.

Because she caught me by surprise and has me on a deadline, I suppose I’ll just fill you in on my general activities lately. Let’s see.

Well, since the mistress finally got over her allergy phobia, and there’s less juniper in the air, we’ve been walking the Bosque more. I’ve lost a few pounds which was more apparent when they took me to the groomer – like weeks late! Sure, this isn’t Phoenix, but it’s been pretty freakin’ warm here this spring. Like the mistress, I prefer to keep my fur short. The master, he hates that, especially on her, but I prefer not to be dragged into their petty marital spats.

Had my rattle snake retest Sunday. The idiots were so sure that I would fail. What? She never told you about the rattle snake training? Yeah, this is ostensibly a rug hooking blog, but I’m the High on Hooking Dog; pretty much the whole marketing concept. She should’ve at least mentioned it. I will.

 

Two years ago March, she thinks it a fine idea to 1) inject me with actual rattle snake venom (the vet called it a “vaccine“) and 2) enroll us in rattle snake avoidance training. For #1 I think I’m going on a nice car ride, and I end up at the vet’s. I hate the vet. I hate shots. I showed her, I peed on the vet’s floor. For #2, again I think I’m going for a car ride, an adventure even as it took a while to get to the middle of nowhere somewhere way west of here. A place where you know they buried bodies in Breaking Bad. Instead I find a guy who puts a shock collar on me and marches me up to a f-ing testy rattle snake. When the damn serpent strikes at me – yes, the idiots really put me through this – the guy puts an lightning bolt through me. I swear I am NOT making this up. Now I think that somehow I’m actually in Breaking Bad, that somehow I got on Walter White’s bad side. “Walk it off,” they tell me. And never go near a rattle snake again. Not a problem, I think.

Of course, my skin was smelling much like barbecue by then. A half-hour goes by. I wonder why we don’t leave. The mistress says, “Come on, man, let’s walk over here.” Okay, maybe the car’s that way. I don’t know, my brain’s are still scrambled. We walk into the brush; she tugs on the leash, “this way.” I try to focus and I see…that f-ing snake! Feet don’t fail me now! I go running the other way. Back on the dirt road they tell me what a good dog I am. Freak that shit! Who drags their ever faithful canine friend out into the middle of nowhere to torture him with a snake and electricity? Really, who does that?

I’d finally forgotten all about that episode till this past weekend. It started innocently enough. “Let’s go for a ride, Tynan!” I bound into the car. The miles go by; we leave Albuquerque. Rio Rancho goes by. We’re going west. And just like that we’re back two years, in exactly the same spot. Other dogs are there. I try to warn them, but the idiots keep me off to the side. Suddenly, Shock Collar Guy is there talking. “I am going to hurt your dogs…” He holds up a collar. By now I’m not listening. What fresh hell does he have planned? Not much time to think; the mistress is pulling me towards the brush. I try to fight back, but there are other dog smells compelling me into the bushes. And I’ve not peed here yet, enlarged my own social network. Like a newborn lamb I follow. “Take the lead, Tynan.” Again, I can’t help myself. I love being first on the trail when we hike! Things look good, nothing out of the ordinary. And then I hear something familiar. I smell it too. She pulls on the leash. “This way, bud.” Against my own instincts I move in that direction. Right into the path of…the rattle snake!

Needless to say, I did not stay around. Dragged her ass right back to the dirt road and all the way to the car. Again with the “good dog” to soothe me. Bite me, I told them as I settled into the back seat. If I’m to believe them, they’ll never take me to that place again. “We’ll make it up to you,” she said. Right. “How about going to the park now. The one with trees and nice, green grass.” I cocked my ears. I love real grass. We only have that stupid fake turf in the back yard. “Okay,” I told them.

What a maroon I was. Sure, we went to the park. Because it was the annual quilt show put on by the Thimbleweed Quilters. Even the master fell for it. Some day we’ll get away from all of this stupid fiber art stuff. Till then, though, I’m still stuck here as the High on Hooking Dog.

 

 

 

If interested, the rattle snake avoidance clinic was conducted by Terry and Janet Chandler of Rugerheim German Shorthaired Pointers Kennel in Texas. Each year the Central New Mexico Brittany Club brings them to the Albuquerque and Santa Fe areas.