White Oak Mtn Ranger
Active member
- Joined
- Aug 28, 2007
- Messages
- 28
THE POINT
Flirting with fame is, for most humans, a quiet and fleeting thought. For the egotistical few it goes way beyond calling everyone you know and telling them to rush home so they can see you on the local news and smile at your five minutes of glow in the spot light.
Some wise of student of this phenomenon created the myth that most of us have in our lifetime fifteen minutes to deal with this type of self aggrandizement. Even in fifteen minute intervals most people seem to think of it as a lifetime’s worth.
It’s one thing for a human to feel the need, or sense of doom associated with fame but what is this issue for a bird dog?
Do dogs know the sensation of fame when humans make them famous? Could it be that a dog just knows when he has done the right thing and just plain doesn’t give a dog’s damn about the concept of famousness?
Simplicity clearly dictates our perception of what constitutes a dog’s emotional state. If he can’t eat it or make love to it there is little to do other than a good wash down from a three legged stance.
Ah the simplicity of the life. Why do we as humans feel the need to muck it up with trying to include fame in the simple way of life?
We must ask ourselves if we should even care about such things as a dog’s feelings concerning the idea of being famous.
After a dog achieves fame is it something that sticks in his ten minute attention span as a good thing, or does the feeling simply fission away in just another fleeting prelude to his next knee high view of the horizon, spurring him on to the next canine based thrill.
It’s an amazing thing to see a dog become famous. You have to be there of course, dogs rarely become famous without a witness. More importantly you have to be tuned, locked and completely enmeshed in the very nanosecond of the event to capture the dog’s moment of fame.
Applying fame to an animal is an incident that has to be filled with an inordinate amount of human patience. Clutter must be removed in order to enable a mere human to capture a dog’s ascension into the realm of the famous.
Last Saturday I saw a dog achieve fame on my brother in law’s fifty first birthday. She did it with a point, her wet, pollen covered nose in the strong wind, her leg curved like she had stepped out of some bronze sculpture. A gift like this comes into a life on rare occasions and this was one of those times.
Rock solid would be a description that would do this point justice. Steady as a stone except for the wild wind rhythmically blowing her long flowing hair, quivering with the sound and the smell of quail scuttling through the windblown weeds of the Cumberland Plateau.
We stood on a birthday, transfixed at the gift of the point of the small birds while the rays of an autumn sun danced, laughing off of the fame surrounding the dog’s back, fame everywhere, literally glowing in an intense, shimmering heat.
The dog had now become famous in front of our very eyes, all biblical like and timeless. We were capturing the nanosecond in alternating short flashes of reality and perception. This was a truly fitting celebration of a birthday and another season of chasing quail.
Everyone that feeds dogs during the off season quietly worries that during that time away from wild birds, your dog will satanically become afflicted with all manner of strange and bad habits. Bust the covey types of bad habits, or eat what you manage to shoot bad habits. There are innumerable scores of terrible and irreversible inbred transgressions that most of us are clueless to correct.
This sort of madness seems to peak during the hot, sticky, sleepless nights of August waking up most bird dog owners in a cold sweat. Negative fame is the fame of Orwellian nightmares.
Yes, fame comes in both models, even when it is applied to hapless bird dogs.
Negative fame is such powerful business that it is dangerous to speak of it for much longer than it takes your dog to wash down a fire hydrant. Enough said.
On this day, the day of celebration of the fifty first year of one’s existence, the dog decided it was time to show us that fame was her gift. In a split second, in a wind blown patch of sage grass, somewhere on this huge orb of a planet, a dog and some bobwhites decided that fame should be witnessed, collected and stored like a sack of gold nuggets.
Fame and wealth all in one day is about all a man can ask for from a dog and get away with it. This dog is destined for greatness.
Flirting with fame is, for most humans, a quiet and fleeting thought. For the egotistical few it goes way beyond calling everyone you know and telling them to rush home so they can see you on the local news and smile at your five minutes of glow in the spot light.
Some wise of student of this phenomenon created the myth that most of us have in our lifetime fifteen minutes to deal with this type of self aggrandizement. Even in fifteen minute intervals most people seem to think of it as a lifetime’s worth.
It’s one thing for a human to feel the need, or sense of doom associated with fame but what is this issue for a bird dog?
Do dogs know the sensation of fame when humans make them famous? Could it be that a dog just knows when he has done the right thing and just plain doesn’t give a dog’s damn about the concept of famousness?
Simplicity clearly dictates our perception of what constitutes a dog’s emotional state. If he can’t eat it or make love to it there is little to do other than a good wash down from a three legged stance.
Ah the simplicity of the life. Why do we as humans feel the need to muck it up with trying to include fame in the simple way of life?
We must ask ourselves if we should even care about such things as a dog’s feelings concerning the idea of being famous.
After a dog achieves fame is it something that sticks in his ten minute attention span as a good thing, or does the feeling simply fission away in just another fleeting prelude to his next knee high view of the horizon, spurring him on to the next canine based thrill.
It’s an amazing thing to see a dog become famous. You have to be there of course, dogs rarely become famous without a witness. More importantly you have to be tuned, locked and completely enmeshed in the very nanosecond of the event to capture the dog’s moment of fame.
Applying fame to an animal is an incident that has to be filled with an inordinate amount of human patience. Clutter must be removed in order to enable a mere human to capture a dog’s ascension into the realm of the famous.
Last Saturday I saw a dog achieve fame on my brother in law’s fifty first birthday. She did it with a point, her wet, pollen covered nose in the strong wind, her leg curved like she had stepped out of some bronze sculpture. A gift like this comes into a life on rare occasions and this was one of those times.
Rock solid would be a description that would do this point justice. Steady as a stone except for the wild wind rhythmically blowing her long flowing hair, quivering with the sound and the smell of quail scuttling through the windblown weeds of the Cumberland Plateau.
We stood on a birthday, transfixed at the gift of the point of the small birds while the rays of an autumn sun danced, laughing off of the fame surrounding the dog’s back, fame everywhere, literally glowing in an intense, shimmering heat.
The dog had now become famous in front of our very eyes, all biblical like and timeless. We were capturing the nanosecond in alternating short flashes of reality and perception. This was a truly fitting celebration of a birthday and another season of chasing quail.
Everyone that feeds dogs during the off season quietly worries that during that time away from wild birds, your dog will satanically become afflicted with all manner of strange and bad habits. Bust the covey types of bad habits, or eat what you manage to shoot bad habits. There are innumerable scores of terrible and irreversible inbred transgressions that most of us are clueless to correct.
This sort of madness seems to peak during the hot, sticky, sleepless nights of August waking up most bird dog owners in a cold sweat. Negative fame is the fame of Orwellian nightmares.
Yes, fame comes in both models, even when it is applied to hapless bird dogs.
Negative fame is such powerful business that it is dangerous to speak of it for much longer than it takes your dog to wash down a fire hydrant. Enough said.
On this day, the day of celebration of the fifty first year of one’s existence, the dog decided it was time to show us that fame was her gift. In a split second, in a wind blown patch of sage grass, somewhere on this huge orb of a planet, a dog and some bobwhites decided that fame should be witnessed, collected and stored like a sack of gold nuggets.
Fame and wealth all in one day is about all a man can ask for from a dog and get away with it. This dog is destined for greatness.