"Hunters Are People Too"
"Hunters Are People Too"
Actually, at least for the time being, this page will be limited to Bernie's Household only. It is a relatively small household, but each member is a very important part of my life and contributes heavily to the essence of my being.
I promise to try to keep it from being too maudlin.
Semper Fi
Rose - My beloved and devoted partner since 1963 This lady is no doormat; indeed she is a free spirit of self-design that evolved from hard times, hard knocks, and stronger will. Though all woman, she is still self-reliant and self-sufficient; so she was never one I had to be overly worried about when my military (or other) doings required my presence elsewhere. She can and does handle it. I called her "Kitten"; soft and warm, yet cool and sleek, with claws when needed. She has always worked longer, harder, faster, and more efficiently than anyone I ever met, in my long history of managing people. In her chosen, preferred occupation for the majority of her life, waitress, she was the fastest, most accurate I ever had the pleasure of watching. Oh, and believe me, it was a real pleasure. Since first we met, she has been my right hand, my help-mate, my steadying influence, and the light of my life. She has also kept me out of financial trouble, in spite of myself. We have loved, enjoyed, and supported each other and continue to do so. She collects elephants (not real ones) and has over *six hundred of them, at last count. Boy, that would make a good website, if I had a digital camera. Rose is a relatively private person, so I will bite my tongue and refrain from saying all I'd like to. From almost the very start, our adopted motto together has been:
"More Than Yesterday, Less Than Tomorrow"
and in this instance, less is more.*Now over 1,000 ("Baby Elephant Walk" Midi file)
Left: Rose - Hawaii - 1967 - This photo lived in my wallet a lonnnnng time. It is one of my favorites, not hers.
Right: Rose & Bernie 1998 - "What's a nice lady like you doin' out in public with old Ears MacNears?"
Scamp - Talk about will; and/or won't, for that matter. We got this cat as a pet for my mother, when we went to Maine to look after her the last six years of her life. Ma hadn't had a pet for years, as she was afraid of them outliving her. We decided it was time for her to have one again, and felt we'd be around to help take care of, it in any event. She was tickled with the little ball of red and white fluff, he was indifferent. Rose, who was always a cat attractant, purposely ignored him so he would bond with the proper person. He, being a "Contrary", of course bonded to me, an innocent by-stander. Ma has been gone 3 years, the cat is still mine; or more correctly, I am his. When we moved back to NC, after Ma passed, Scamp stalked the property line and decided he was really a North Carolina cat and had finally found his true home. We have a push/pull relationship that at times is a real test of (again) wills, and/or won'ts. Scamp is now Senior Animal and seems to know it. He has developed an endearing habit of nudging my elbow when I'm at the computer and he wants something. Usually just as I'm about to click on something with the mouse. I think he hopes it will make me miscue and cause the whole computer to delete.Note: On the last day of February, 2005 a buzzard mercifully showed me where old scamp had gone to rest. He had been missing for a week and two days and none of us in the little cul de sac where we live had seen him. Not at all like him. He was almost 15 and I guess it has been time for quite awhile but he seemed good right up to his disappearance. I hate that it has come but I am glad the turkey buzzard ended all the wondering, searching, and worrying. He was in a little patch of woods across the - where I had searched but missed seeing him. Goodbye my aggravating but faithful old friend.
Left: Scamp - 1996 - In dollhouse handcrafted by Rose, not for him.
Right: Scamp - 1996 - On "His Porch" at home in NC.
Sloopy - My Beagle, another contradiction in terms. She has the looks, the nose, and a be-yoot-i-full voice, when using that nose to track the squirrels and occasional rabbit that people the wooded areas around our lot. As our neighbors say, you can follow her progress even when she doesn't "yodel" as you can see her "happy tail" flashing through the woods. She also has the sweet disposition and happy demeanor characteristic of her breed. However, she is deathly afraid of any loud noise, such as, oh say, a thunderclap, or a gunshot (mmm-hmmm). She also gets carsick when/if requested to travel any further then to the closest corner and back. Well, no matter; contrary to what one might think, she was not procured for a hunting dog as such. I got her because two of our pets (see Spirits) were very old. I was afraid if I didn't get another before they left; we might not be able to "get back up on that horse". An unfounded fear as it turned out; a fact borne out by Dog 2. Sloopy's dam's name was Rose, by coincidence. I thought of naming her after our daughter because of that but in a rare moment of sanity, decided against that. Instead I named her after the first song our daughter ever danced to, "Hang On Sloopy". So it wasn't because she is a female "Snoopy" as some callous onlookers have ventured. Although born a kennel dog, Sloopy gave in graciously to becoming a housedog and proved very easy to train. Her own special beautician applied her eye liner in a manner to give her the most expressive eyes possible. She became, and is, a pure delight. Uhh, except when she is forced to chase vehicles going too fast in our cul-de-sac, which she is trying very hard to convince me she really doesn’t want to do. We're making progress, I think, I hope.Dog 2Left: Sloopy - 1997 - "But Ah'm not sure Ah wanna be a huntin' dawg."
Right: Sloopy - 1998 - A different kind of pose, to show off her ears perhaps, and her "Happy Tail".
Kissie - Our youngest; a Chihuahua of chocolate and tan color and markings, like a Doberman or Rottweiler. She also has a heart as big, and a spirit as fearless as those breeds. Her little tan eyebrows in her dark bandit-like mask make her eyes a fair competition for Sloopy's. She is named after a Hershey’s Kiss, due to her color and the fact her sire and dam had chocolate bar names. She turned out to be as sweet as that name, and prone to pursue the action of that name to the point of drowning any and every human she meets. We got Kissie because in, spite of our trepidation, and knowledge that you can't "replace" dogs, neither Rose or I could stand it any longer to have only our memories. Yes, our "Spirits" were Chis. Sloopy kept our hearts warm, but the void was too big to fill by her alone. Besides, she missed the others too. So Kissie came to make us laugh, and to make the tears taste sweeter. She moved in like a tiny tornado, and busied herself making us remember only the good parts. She took Sloopy over as her very own play toy. Like two sumo wrestlers, they thumped and rolled around the house; trying their darnedest to give their two humans heart attacks, one moment from concern, the next from laughter. Sloopy mouthed and pummeled her like a bear would a chunk of fatback, but with the tenderness and soft mouth of the best retriever who ever fetched a bird. No matter how tired or even in deep sleep, she would rise to Kissie's seductive call to play. Kissie warms that special place in her human's hearts that only a Chi could fill, and I like to think the Spirits are pleased too.SpiritsLeft: Kissie - 1998 - Is this a Hershey's Kiss or just a Frito Bandito?
Right: Kissie - 1999 - "Whup the Beagle, whup the Beagle! Chis rule!"
Pixie & Li'l Man - Princess Pixie, actually. Though her title was seldom used, she always was one in all the right ways. Li'l man was so named because he tried to prove his maleness with Pixie his first day home. Even though he was the tiniest thing I ever saw, which belied his later growth. These two deserve a whole book of their own, but I get ahead of myself, and here I only want to give enough to let it be known why I consider the Spirits as still a part of my/our life(s). There have always been pets for us, so there was a long stream of all kinds, shapes, and varieties; some great ones and some not so great, but all loved. In truth, enough pets for a large tome of works. However, these two were with us for an excess of seventeen years, each. Every bit as long as our precious daughter was, at home. Pixie was eight months senior, but Li'l Man stayed a few months longer. They have been gone between a year and two at this writing. Pixie, smaller then most Chis, all white with skin so pink it shone through on her ears and belly, a short, or regular, coat. Li'l Man was a long hair, tiny and black with a little white on his chest and face, grew larger than most Chis, and turned gray around the edges with age, like real folk. Pixie ruled the roost right from the start; didn't wait to become senior dog. I had Blackjack, a half Weimaraner/half Black Lab when she was a pup. Even when he was in deep sleep she would grab his lip in her tiny mouth and run half way across the room with it. He would raise his large head and look at us with soulful eyes as if asking, "Must I?" but nothing more. I nicknamed her "The Great White Shark". She would go up in any dog's face like a whirling dervish, if they were being scolded. I don't think she ever hurt any of them in the short flurries, but the unlucky offender was duly chastised, and she would proudly prance away like the best trotting horse on the racetrack. Boy, could she prance; I used to say she had her one-one on, 'cause she was too small for a tutu. She did hurt Li'l Man when she got after him, but only his feelings, for he loved her almost as much as he loved my wife. All their life he would yield to Pixie's slightest whim, and she knew it, and used it. Li'l Man had another love too, when a puppy. We had three Pekinese at the time also; yup, a houseful of critters. They were Bee-Bee, Cee-Cee, and Dee-Dee. Bee-Bee was senior dog then, but he and the other two put up with the Chis (and Blackjack) well; after all, they were just kids. Li'l man seemed to look at Bee-Bee as a father figure and doted on him. He pestered the elder unmercifully. Bee-Bee would snarl up that broad, flat face of his and Li'l Man would just giggle from head to toe until the old man smoothed his face and sighed a big relent. Pixie loved all people (as Kissie does now), but expected them to come to her. If they didn't, she would tip her little flesh-colored nose in the air and howl the highest pitched, most pitiful wolf call you ever heard, until she was given her proper homage. She did this particularly with strangers or infrequent visitors. On the other side of the scale, while Li'l Man was a love to us, others would never have known it as he never trusted people. You would have thought he could have benefited from Pixie's lead, but on that one thing he obviously figured she didn't have a clue. He wouldn't even believe us when we told him it/they were all right. He seemed to feel that was all we knew about it. He would bark to distraction and got sent to the bedroom many, many times. Ah, but small inconvenience indeed for all the love and blind devotion these two Spirits gave us all those many days and years, and still are now even in their absence. Enough!Left: Pixie and Li'l Man - 1983 - A couple of hams? Maybe so, but just looking through the glass door for "Momma" to return, here.
Right: Pixie, Li'l Man, and Rose - 1996 - The tumors grow and their sight is about gone, but their keen insight and ability to share love still abound.
Left: Pixie - 1983 - I couldn't resist showing you this classic pose of herself, the Princess.
Right: Li'l Man - 1998 - The "old gray beard" himself, with his Pixie gone on before, and now sightless.
Please visit our Memorial Page(s) on the moving web site:
or go directly to:
and our daughter's,
But please come back!
Note: I have not, at this time, included the tropical fish in the indoor aquarium, nor the goldfish and koi in the outside pond. I also have not included the multitude of various birds and squirrels we feed, nor even Sloopy's outdoor playmates. This does not mean they are not important in our life. They are, and do bring us pleasure. Who knows, they also may someday appear in these pages. As I said, I do hope it is a work in progress. I'm beginning to think maybe I'd like the site to mainly show the many sides of a person who just happens to hunt. Just a thought.
Re-note: In retrospect It was a "thought" that came to pass (I hope anyway) -
Mocha - Full name Koko Mocha, joined our family in June of 2001. Like most of our other dogs (don't say that word too loud - she doesn't know she is one), she chose us. We went to buy a catfish for the Koi pond and came home with a catbird instead. She was in a cage with another, younger little (you guessed it) Chihuahua pup. They were both cute but she was a chocolate like Kissie. I put my finger up to the glass and she kept running her nose into the other side of it trying to get to my hand - not too smart. Well, maybe she was after all. It resulted in Rose answering in the affirmative when the lady asked if we'd like to hold her. That's pretty much the end of the story, or the beginning of it I guess would be more accurate. She is a cute and bubbly little flibber-de-gibbit but I gotta say her face is not as pretty as Kissie's - yet. It is improving daily but she doesn't have the face mask effect Kissie does to start with - different but still neat. She certainly has the "bat" ears though. Hey, maybe that's why I like Chihuahuas so much - they make my ears look more in place. The shop lady (her daughter owns the shop) told us the breeder had brought her in once for selling, then took her back home to keep, then decided she couldn't do that so brought her back in. After that she came in the shop once and couldn't stand it so vowed to stay away until Mocha was sold. You can see the little tyke started out with some good news - bad news type days. This seemed to make her a real lover of people with a streak of paranoia or something. Anyway she stole our hearts and we told the shop lady to tell the breeder she now was not only sold but would have a real loving home with two other dogs and a cat, who coincidentally have a couple pretty decent old farts that they let live with them. What can I say? At first Kissie only stared at her with wide open (jealous) eyes like, "I don't believe this thing is happening!" Sloopy just looked at her and seemed to say, "OK, another one of those. It ain't no big thing," and lets her do pretty much anything she wants to. Scamp, the old cat pays less attention to her then he does Kissie. He is used to newbies by now I reckon. After a couple weeks Kissie has warmed up to her and we hope her new found playmate will help take her weight back down some. Mocha reminds me of Pixie's habit of pulling on Blackjack's lip, except she goes for tails. She will jump up and grab the end of Sloopy's tail and the Beagle looks like, "I know this dog is not pulling my tail!" With Kissie seeing as how she doesn't have to jump she just grabs the middle of her tail and the elder Chi just makes a quick but half-hearted pass at her and Mocha runs off like it is great fun. It is funny to watch them all. Kissie's dark chocolate is darker than Mocha's but Mocha's lighter parts are darker than Kissie's, at this time anyway. When they get to running and rolling around it looks pretty much like a chocolate and butterscotch pudding that someone swirled a spoon in. Did I just say that? I guess you could follow it all. Mocha is a real pistol and she is busy shaking up the house and worming her way into everybody's heart in the cul-de-sac as quick as her tiny little legs will carry her. Watch for more pictures of her as she grows, on the Gallery pages.
Left: Koko Mocha - showing off her special wrestler's type "skull hood" markings - like "The Destroyer" or somebody.
Right: A "little" perspective on Mocha's size at 6 months of age - she's pretty tiny.
Smokey Joe - OK, OK - so the powers to be saw us spend money on that small puppy when there are so many homeless animals just begging for good homes. Sometimes you just can't help it (especially if you are Rose and Bernie) and you have to be prepared for when those powers decide if you want more young ones, then more you shall have.
In early July, 2001 I descended the three steps to our carport floor. I had just finished my breakfast and other morning things I do at o:dark-thirty every AM while waiting for daylight. Now I approached my bike to install a new "toy" purchased the night before. The noise sounded like a small animal complaining. Maybe a squirrel, possum, or raccoon had crawled into the 55-gallon plastic pickle barrel that was standing the other side of my bike and below my hanging canoe. I peered in - cautiously. Nothing, yet the cries were constant and continual, though soft. It dawned on me as I scanned and re-scanned the carport that it was a kitten sound. (It had been a long time since I'd heard that particular sound.) On my first look around my eyeballs took in my canoe. I'd recently placed a gray tarp over it to keep it dry from the rain that sneaks in the semi-open carport. The only reason I even looked at it was the sound seemed kind of muffled and I was looking for anything it might be inside of. When I saw and remembered the tarp, I dismissed it as a poor possibility. On the second scan (with the cries becoming more insistent) my eyes picked out the kitten laying on the tarp, not more than a foot above my face. He had picked a good place to hide, as he also was gray and nearly invisible. If he hadn't moved right then and disclosed his white boots and chest blaze, I might not have spied him at all. It was obvious he was very scared but also very hungry. It didn't take long to figure out he wasn't wild enough to have been born outside but was leery enough to show that "people" he trusted had betrayed him.
Someone had dropped him off, hoping some softy like me would take pity on him. This time it worked out - too often it doesn't and the poor unfortunates are robbed of their life in one horrible way or another. Or in the case of cats, become feral (wild) in the forests. There are too many of those out there now, living off song/game birds and other small prey. Wild and dangerous, believe me don't mess with those kinds and please don't contribute to their swelling numbers. It is becoming a much larger problem than most people realize (other than those who hunt, camp, hike, fish, or otherwise use the forests and meadows). There are no easy solutions to the problem other than preventing it.
Anyway, it took two days of feeding outside and a lot of coaxing on Rose's and my parts to make the kitten trust us enough to even lay a hand on him. When we did finally get to touch him he started singing. Once we got him in the house it became obvious it had all been a scam of sorts on his part and he was as much at home with all the animals and us as if he had been born here. Even old Scamp, Cat 1 (who stays outside nights during the summertime) gets a rub of cheeks in cat-style every morning when he comes in. I wasn't sure just how well that little trick was going to work out but I'll be darned if the old guy doesn't rub back. Smokey Joe immediately started using the litter pan, ate the food, played with the dogs toys, pets and people, and in general made himself at home.
"SJ" seems to feel and say, "Here I am. Take it or leave it, like it or lump it, I'm here to stay. I, for one intend to sing my ever-ready song and worm myself into everyone's hearts. Oh, and you may call me Smokey Joe if you like, or any diminutive of that and I'll probably even respond - most of the time. Aren't I just too, too handsome, precocious, and loads of fun for everyone? I do thank you for rescuing me though"
You're welcome, Smokey Joe. The least we could do. Hmmm!
Left: Smokey Joe, resplendent in his white boots and "cravat" - check my shoe heel for size comparison as picture makes him look larger than he actually is, yet.
Right: "Awright, smarty-aleck piece of dry food, I double-dog-dare ya to move again!"
Footnote: I am afraid our beautiful and sweet-disposition, volunteer cat, Smokey Joe is not with us in this vale any longer. The last time we saw him, he was strolling across the front lawn on New year's Eve 2003. Now I know cats can and do disappear, sometimes for months on end, and then show up all the sudden again. This could happen with the Smoke Man but I just don't feel it will. I know nobody could pick him up as he never would go near anyone other than Rose and I. He didn't want even us to touch him when he was outside. He got so very close and loving with us that it was almost unreal but he always remained scared to death of all other people - even nice neighbors with food, etc. He got, towards the last, very punctual about being here for his and Scamp's morning and evening meals. I don't believe he missed one in about 3 months. We never saw or heard any sign of him having been run over but he spent more time in the woods out back, where he first showed up from, than anywhere else. It is possible dogs (perhaps stray hunting dogs) got him, or even a hunter thinking he was feral (since he was so anti-social). There is always the possibility he got into it with a large old boar raccoon, fox, or even bear also. Whatever the cause or the happenstance, I fear he is gone. We will miss you Smokey, and can't help but think of you often. You were a joy to us and you put up with old man Scamp's bad attitude so humbly, even after you got to where you could have trounced him resoundingly any time you wanted.
Taffy - Our latest addition is not so much an addition as a contribution. Ever since we moved here and Kim, the youngest daughter and songbird from next door, saw our, then still alive, "Spirits" she has wanted a Chihuahua. Finally last year her dream came true when she rescued an adult female from the middle of a highway, in the middle of the night. Kim is the dog's savior and "Angel Guardian" but "Angel" doesn't care too much for anyone else and especially not men. Kim was in seventh heaven when no previous owner came forward in response to her attempts to locate them. After that she had a chance to get a Chi pup at the Southern States feed store where she and her sister worked. Since Angel had been house broken and easily fit in (except for barking at everyone) she saw no reason not to - after all we, her trusted mentors and friends, had always had multiple Chis. We advised her against it as she would not be home to train her "Taco", but to no avail. Later, after Kim and Kathy were about crazy from trying, she appeared on our doorstep with the little buff colored dog and all of her (many) possessions and begged us to take her. Well we already loved the girl - and the dog - what could we do? You don't suppose Kim knew that in advance, do you?
As one of our steps to make the new family member fit into her new home we felt a name change was in order. Her color, sweet disposition, and our "candy" named Chihuahuas lead us easily to the moniker "Taffy". She is more sweet than spicy anyway. Also Kim, Kathy, and Jabo had to stay away until Taffy "adopted us". Now that restriction is no longer needed - and the house breaking is pretty much an accepted thing too, thank you, Lord.
Senior Cat and Senior Dog (Scamp and Sloopy) reacted with aloof and casual attitudes of , "Oh well, our humans have got another one. So, what else is new?" Kissie accepts her (just for us) but she doesn't care for the "little twit" and while she puts up with all of Mocha's shenannigans she barely tolerates any advances (of which there are many) by the newbie. We have to caution her to, "be nice to the baby." Mocha alternates wild play periods and gross acts of jealousy over this faded out dog, who while younger is slightly taller and longer than she. Now, Smokey Joe takes her in stride and she runs around after him with her nose on the poor guys butt. The first night though her color (I think) convinced him she was a white rat, or some other kind of edible, so it was touch and go for a few days there. Taffy is a sweetheart in her own silly way and loves everyone she meets and wants them to return that love. In some ways she reminds us of Princess Pixie (but I don't think she is near as smart as Pixie was - sorry, little girl but few are). Doesn't matter, she's "home" for the long haul - and everyone knows it now.
"Taffy" loves to go out on the porch and lounge in regal, sunbathing comfort, as "The Princess" did long before her.
Camo - November 20, 2004 we added Camo to our family. I will wait until he assimilates to write about him. For now please visit Gallery, Pg9, Row Four for pics and first impressions (don't miss this one).
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