Dogs In Elk

[Dust Angel]

This was put on one of my work message boards, i could see Sienna and Flute doing this

For those who have never read it, here is a bit of humour for Fri afternoon (and yes, this is a verified and real story!)

http://www.webtree.ca/tree/keeper/dogs_in_elk.htm

Ok I have copied it here so people can read it a little easier:

Anne V - Okay - I know how to take meat away from a dog. How do I take a dog away from meat? This is not, unfortunately, a joke.

AmyC - Um, can you give us a few more specifics here?

Anne V - They're inside of it. They crawled inside, and now I have a giant incredibly heavy piece of carcass in my yard, with 2 dogs inside of it, and they are NOT getting bored of it and coming out. One of them is snoring. I have company arriving in three hours, and my current plan is to 1. put up a tent over said carcass and 2. hang thousands of fly strips inside it. This has been going on since about 6:40 this morning.

AmyC - Oh. My. God. What sort of carcass is big enough to hold a couple of dogs inside? Given the situation, I'm afraid you're not going to be create enough of a diversion to get the dogs out of the carrion, unless they like greeting company as much as they like rolling around in dead stuff. Which seems unlikely. Can you turn a hose on the festivities?

Ase Innes-Ker - I'm sorry Anne. I know this is a problem (and it would have driven me crazy), but it is also incredibly funny.

Anne V - Elk. Elk are very big this year, because of the rain and good grazing and so forth. They aren't rolling. They are alternately napping and eating. They each have a ribcage. Other dogs are working on them from the outside. It's all way too primal in my yard right now. We tried the hose trick. At someone elses house, which is where they climbed in and began to refuse to come out. Many hours ago. I think that the hose mostly helps keep them cool and dislodges little moist snacks for them. hose failed. My new hope is that if they all continue to eat at this rate, they will be finished before the houseguests arrive. The very urban houseguests. Oh, god - I know it's funny. It's appalling, and funny, and completely entirely representative of life with dogs.

Kristen R. - I'm so glad I read this thread, dogless as I am. Dogs in elk. Dogs in elk.

Anne V - It's like that childrens book out there - dogs in elk, dogs on elk, dogs around elk, dogs outside elk. And there is some elk inside of, as well as on, each dog at this point.

Elizabeth K - Anne, aren't you in Arizona or Nevada? There are elk there? I'm so confused! We definately need to see pics of Gus Pong and Jake in the elk carcass.

Anne V - I am in New Mexico, but there are elk in both arizona and nevada, yes. There are elk all over the da*n place. They don't look out very often. If you stand the ribcage on end they scramble to the top and look out, all red. Otherwise, you kinda have to get in there a little bit yourself to really see them. So I think there will not be pictures.

CoseyMo - "all red;" I'm not sure the deeper horror of all this was fully borne in upon me till I saw that little phrase.

Anne V - Well, you know, the Basenji (that would be Jake) is a desert dog, naturally, and infamous for it's aversion to water. And then, Gus Pong (who is coming to us, live, unamplified and with a terrific reverb which is making me a little dizzy) really doesn't mind water, but hates to be cold. Or soapy. And both of them can really run. Sprints of up to 35 mph have been clocked. So. If ever they come out, catching them and returning them to a condition where they can be considered house pets is not going to be, shall we say, pleasant.

CoseyMo - What if you stand the ribcage on end, wait for them to look out, grab them when they do and pull?

Anne V - They wedge their toes between the ribs. And scream. We tried that before we brought the elk home from the mountain with dogs inside. Jake nearly took my friends arm off. He's already short a toe, so he cherishes the 15 that remain.

Linda Hewitt - Have you thought about calling your friendly vet and paying him to come pick up the dogs, elk and letting the dogs stay at the vets overnight. If anyone would know what to do, it would be your vet. It might cost some money, but it would solve the immediate crisis. Keep us posted.

ChristiPeters - Yikes! My sympathy! When I lived in New Mexico, my best friend's dog (the escape artist) was continually bringing home road kill. When there was no road kill convenient, he would visit the neighbor's house. Said neighbor slaughtered his own beef. The dog found all kinds of impossibly gross toys in the neighbor's trash pit. I have always had medium to large dogs. The smallest dog I ever had was a mutt from the SPCA who matured out at just above knee high and about 55 pounds. Our current dog (daughter's choice) is a Pomeranian.A very small Pomeranian. She's 8 months old now and not quite 4 pounds. I'm afraid I'll break her.

Lori Shiraishi - Bet you could fit a whole lot of Pomeranians in that there elk carcass! Anne - my condolences on what must be an unbelievable situation!

Anne V - I did call my vet. He laughed until he was gagging and breathless. He says a lot of things, which can be summed as *what did you expect?* and *no, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog.* He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home. Thanks, Lori. I am almost surrendered to the absurdity of it.

Lori Shiraishi - "He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home." So he can fall down laughing in person?

Anne V - Basically, yeah. That would be about it.

AmyC - No, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog." Oh, sweet lord, Anne. You have my deepest sympathies in this, perhaps the most peculiar of the Gus Pong Adventures. You are truly a woman of superhuman patience. wait -- you carried the carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside?

Anne V - The carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside? no, well, sort of. My part in the whole thing was to get really stressed about a meeting that I had to go to, and say *yeah, ok, whatever* when it was suggested that the ribcages, since we couldn't get the dogs out of them and the dogs couldn't be left there, be brought to my house. Because, you know - I just thought they would get bored of it sooner or later. But it appears to be later, in the misty uncertain future, that they will get bored. Now, they are still interested. And very loud, one singing, one snoring.

Lori Shiraishi - And very loud, one singing, one snoring. wow. I can't even begin to imagine the acoustics involved with singing from the inside of an elk.

Anne V - Reverb. lots and lots of reverb.

Anne V - I'll tell you the thing that is causing me to lose it again and again, and then I have to go back outside and stay there for a while. After the meeting, I said to my (extraordinary) boss, "look, I've gotta go home for the rest of the day, I think. Jake and Gus Pong are inside some elk ribcages, and my dad is coming tonight, so I've got to get them out somehow." And he said, pale and huge-eyed, "Annie, how did you explain the elk to the clients?" The poor, poor man thought I had the carcasses brought to work with me. For some reason, I find this deeply funny.

(weekend pause)

Anne V - So what we did was put the ribcages (containing dogs) on tarps and drag them around to the side yard, where I figured they would at least be harder to see, and then opened my bedroom window so that the dogs could let me know when they were ready to be plunged into a de-elking solution and let in the house. Then I went to the airport. Came home, no visible elk, no visible dogs. Peeked around the shrubs, and there they were, still in the elk. By this time, they had gnawed out some little portholes between some of the ribs, and you got the occasional very frightening glimpse of something moving around in there if you watched long enough. After a lot of agonizing, I went to bed. I closed the back door, made sure my window was open, talked to the dogs out of it until I was sure they knew it was open, and then I fell asleep.

Sometimes, sleep is a mistake, no matter how tired you are. And especially if you are very very tired, and some of your dogs are outside, inside some elks. Because when you are that tired, you sleep through bumping kind of noises, or you kind of think that it's just the house guests. It was't the house guests. It was my dogs, having an attack of teamwork unprecedented in our domestic history. When I finally woke all the way up, it was to a horrible vision. Somehow, 3 dogs with a combined weight of about 90 pounds, managed to hoist one of the ribcages (the meatier one, of course) up 3 feet to rest on top of the swamp cooler outside the window, and push out the screen. What woke me was Gus Pong, howling in frustration from inside the ribcage, very close to my head, combined with feverish little grunts from Jake, who was standing on the nightstand, bracing himself against the curtains with remarkably bloody little feet.

Here are some things I have learned, this Rosh Hashanah weekend:

1. almond milk removes elk blood from curtains and pillowcases,

2. We can all exercise superhuman strength when it comes to getting elk carcasses out of our yard,

3. The sight of elk ribcages hurtling over the fence really frightens the nice deputy sheriff who lives across the street, and

4. the dogs can pop the screens out of the windows, without damaging them, from either side.

What I am is really grateful that they didn't actually get the damn thing in the window, which is clearly the direction they were going in. And that the nice deputy didn't arrest me for terrifying her with elk parts before dawn.

Imagine waking up with a gnawed elk carcass in your bed, like a real-life "Godfather" with an all-dog cast. There is not enough almond milk in the world to solve an event of that kind.

[j]

[Kirislin]

I remember reading this years ago, when I first got my computer. Yes, it's very funny. I wonder what happened eventually.

[Rainy]

almost unbelivable

[whiskedaway]

[grumpette]

OMG that is an absolute classic

The mental pictures it conjures up are hysterical and horrific at the same time.

I so needed that laugh

[espinay2]

He he he. Glad you enjoyed it DA ;). It really is a classic. I do remember reading a follow up years ago. Will have to look and see if I can find it.

Gus Pong BTW was a New Guinea Singing Dog. And from all reports, quite the character!!

Edited to add this link is a better one with more info on the story : http://www.jerrypournelle.com/reports/jerryp/dogsinelk.html

And here is Gus Pong : http://www.angelfire.com/sd/guspong/

Edited June 6, 2011 by espinay2

[dogbesotted]

this is one of the eternally sidesplittingly funny dog adventure tales... the writer is sooo wonderful with her descriptions it is almost like watching the stoey unfold before our eyes.

sometime when i feel a bit down i re read this and feel so much better

h

[Faolmor]

I have to admit, I burst out laughing at the part where they tried to tip the dogs out, but they just dug their toes into the ribcage and screamed. LOL

[kitkatswing]

Another great story : http://littera-abactor.livejournal.com/7748.html

Copied here as well

I Has a Sweet Potato

You know, a lot of times I write up random posts and then don't post them. But Best Beloved just called me, and I could not really explain why I was inarticulate about sweet potatoes, so I said I'd go ahead and post this. That way, she can read it at work and know just what kind of day it has been. (Short version, for those who do not feel like reading the whole post: ARRRRRRG. F@#%$ sweet potatoes.)

The longer version, summarized in conversation form:

Dog: I am starving.

Me: Actually, no. You aren't starving. You get two very good meals a day. And treats. And Best Beloved fed you extra food while I was gone.

Dog: STARVING.

Me: I saw you get fed not four hours ago! You are not starving.

Dog: Pity me, a sad and tragic creature, for I can barely walk, I am so starving. WOE.

Me: I am now ignoring you.

Dog: STARVING.

Dog: Did you hear me? I am starving.

Dog: Are you seriously ignoring me? Fine.

[There is a pause, during which the dog exits the room in a pointed manner.]

[From the kitchen, there comes a noise like someone is eating a baseball bat.]

Me, yelling: What the hell are you doing?

Me: *makes haste for the kitchen and finds dog there*

Dog: *picks up entire raw sweet potato, which is what was causing the baseball bat noise, and flees for the bedroom*

Me: *chases dog, retrieves most of sweet potato, less the portion which has disappeared into dog's gullet*

Dog: See? STARVING.

Me: ...That can't be good for you. It's a RAW SWEET POTATO.

Dog: I had to do it. I haven't been fed. Ever.

Me: You realize you aren't normal. Normal dogs don't steal raw sweet potatoes.

Dog, sadly: I was badly brought up.

Me: Yes. Yes, you were.

Dog: By people who starved me.

Me: Oh, no. I am not doing this again.

Me: *exits the room, bearing sweet potato*

[There is a pause.]

[There is a noise like someone is trying to eat a baseball bat very very quietly.]

Me: Oh, for the love of GOD.

Me: *heads off to the kitchen*

Dog: I am not eating a raw sweet potato.

Me: You have sweet potato parts all over your snout.

Dog: But you don't actually SEE a raw sweet potato, do you? So maybe that's just - um. A birthmark.

Me: Did you seriously eat a whole sweet potato?

Dog: You don't listen. I told you, I wasn't eating a sweet potato.

Me, searching around fruitlessly: Look. NO MORE SWEET POTATOES.

Me: Oh, what am I saying? This is you we're talking about, here. *goes to hide all the sweet potatoes that are left - which isn't many - in the fridge, because some people cannot be trusted*

Dog: *attempts to look thwarted*

Dog: *does not succeed, because her tail is wagging so hard small cyclones are forming in the kitchen*

Me: *has a very bad feeling about this*

[There is a pause, during which I do not even bother trying to return to what I was doing. I just stand in the computer room, waiting.]

[There is, as I wholly expected, a baseball-bat-eating noise.]

Me, stomping back to the kitchen: OKAY. GIVE ME THE DAMNED SWEET POTATO.

Dog, looking up guiltily: What sweet potato?

Me: THE ONE IN YOUR MOUTH.

Dog: Oh, did you want this? I just, um. Found it. Lying here.

Me: *confiscates the sweet potato and deposits it in the locking trashcan*

Me: Let us say no more about this.

Dog: ...Nooooo! They be stealin' my sweet potato!

[i attempt to remember what I was doing before the sweet potato episode.]

[some ten minutes later, I succeed, and return to it.]

[NOT ONE MINUTE LATER, I hear a noise with which I have become all too familiar.]

Me, bonking head on desk: Arg.

Me, arriving in kitchen: How did you even get another sweet potato?

Dog, smugly: I have my ways.

Me: Are you punishing me for being away for several days? I was at a FUNERAL, you know. It wasn't FUN.

Dog: How would I know? You didn't take me. You left me here with only one human to look after my needs. One human is NOT ENOUGH.

Me: *shuts dog in bedroom, conducts a sweep of the kitchen to track down all remaining sweet potatoes, wipes up random sweet potato particles from floor, eradicates all traces of sweet potato from house*

Me: *lets dog out*

Dog, sulkily: Oh, so you think you've won.

[i watch her go about her business with the same sense of overwhelming doom that heroines of Victorian novels get when they meet Count Sinistrus Grimblack for the first time.]

[Half an hour later, there is a wetter, juicier eating noise, as though someone was eating a very moist baseball bat.]

Me, wearily: What NOW?

Dog, hunched over the remains of a butternut squash: *says something garbled because her mouth is full*

Me: Okay. Fine.

Me: *stomps over, empties entire vegetable bowl into trash*

Me: WE JUST WON'T HAVE ANY ROOT VEGETABLES ANYMORE. THERE. ARE YOU HAPPY?

Dog: I'm not even remotely sorry. I told you I was hungry. And you went to a funeral without me.

Me: ARRRRRRRRG.

[A half-hour later, there is another baseball-bat-eating noise from the kitchen. The dog, who apparently does not know how to win gracefully, has found another sweet potato, or possibly caused one to materialize from the Rift.]

Me, hauling chewed sweet potato parts from the mouth of a dog very reluctant to part with them: Oh my god how is this my life?

Dog: Don't you think it would just be easier to feed me?

Me: EVERYONE GO TO THE BEDROOM AND STAY THERE. EAT NOTHING.

Dog: Actually, I feel...um...not so good.

Dog: *throws up* *vomit is very bright orange*

[unfortunate details ensue.]

Some time later:

Me, attempting to rescue something from the wreckage: So. What have we learned from this?

Dog: Sweet potatoes are yummy!

Other Dog, looking thoughtful: I should pay more attention to crunching noises. Sweet potatoes are probably yummy.

Me: I need a lobotomy.

And that, Best Beloved - and anyone else who made it through that - is What Kind of Day It Has Been.

#$%#^ SWEET POTATOES. ARG.