The Other Tora Nado Sister
Those of you who read the tora nado report on Spinzia B may be interested to learn that I met her bigger meaner sister Spinzia A the other day.
I took the Golden Lab, the Blue Heeler, and the Norwegian Elkhound out at 'bout noon. I started at my great grandmother's homestead and I guess I must have walked about a mile North towards Bethesda and then East to the highway. I was pretty much at that little ravine that dips before the crossroad, you know where I mean.
And it was one of those days where everybody in the world who was behind a steering wheel was wearing reflective sunglasses. I find those make you look real thoughtful even if you're not.
(This is the same homestead that I was sent to for my "retreat" some time back. You remember the pig armies, the leper squatters, and that mile high tree? That's the place. If any of you good people have a record of that time I would much appreciate if you could send it back my way.)
So, out on the gravel north and east of my great grandmother's homestead with these dogs of mine which most of you know are not the most obedient mutts; I guess I just don't have the knack. They might as well be deaf and me mute. Half the time I think they're just fucking with me.
I mean, I know that they know the pickup truck is coming. I know that they're going to trot into the ditch at the last second. And I also know that they know which is the business end of a swather. I know. I know. For christ sake they were born farm dogs and I was born city. I know all these things but that doesn't stop me from having a thousand petty core sweats every time I scream at those fucking dogs to stay close to me... every time I see one of the dustcloud Koffry boys coming down the road in that old blue Fargo, everytime the Heeler goes off into the canola that Vernon's harvesting.
Every time. Makes me shit my pants every time.
If one of those dogs were to catch it... that would be the end of my walking days... I couldn't handle it. And that's why I yell at 'em. I yell at them dogs so hard some times it feels like my eyes are going to bust. Louder I yell, the less they listen. Go figger. So I'm yelling at the Lab "COME HERE COME HERE GET OFF THE FUCKIN ROAD STAY OFF THE FUCKIN ROAD" and that Lab she just pretends like I'm not yelling at her and the Fargo zips past me at like 90 miles an hour and the Elkhound is prancing off behind some sign waiting to dash in front of Vernon's combine and I don't know where the Heeler is except that I know she aint at my heel and when my yelling hit that pickup truck... When my eyebusting yell hit the side of that dusttail rock spitting pickup truck, when my words hit that rust... that was it, young Koffry and I knew... Spinzia A was born.
Yeah.
Now I aint worried about the Heeler or the Elkhound in a tora nado. Those are two smart dogs they was bred that way to be smart. But fuckin Golden Labs. They were bred to be stupid. I don't mean that the way it sounds. I mean, I love the Golden Lab, but that's one stupid dog you got to admit. It's the scientific genetics of it. They were bred to save people's lives even at the cost of their own. Now that's just contrary to your survival instinct, and that's as good a definition of stupid as you'll ever need. And what's a stupid dog going to do in the approach of a tora nado. Tell you what she's going to do. Nothin. And that's what she did. Nothin. Just trotted along and ignore me all the time and I'm yelling at her "HEY THERE'S A TORA NADO RIGHT BEHIND YOU GET INTO THE TREES" and sure enough Spinzia A just bore down on that stupid dog and picked her up and spun her around like a top. Probably dropped her in the Saskatchewan River. North or South doesn't matter. She's a good swimmer. That dog'll be back.
Stupid dog. Just stood there in the midst of a tora nado coming on. I saw it all coming. I tried to warn her. Now she's swimming in the Saskatchewan.
But then Spinzia A decides that she hasn't had enough fun yet and she starts coming for me. So. Can't outrun a tora nado. Don't even try. I just went limp when she picked me up and went along for the ride. When she saw I wasn't scared of her I think she kinda warmed up to me that tora nado. I mean she still was a tora nado and it was still a bull ride you bet it was but she wasn't trying to kill me at least. Just scare me. Make me shit myself or throw up or something. It was fun. And man, that Spinzia A, she knew how to fuck with drivers with their sedans on the highway.
She had me hanging over the highway for a little while and the rain's coming down the way it does like that so the tarmac's pretty slippery, eh. And then, uh... so I'm at the crossroad right. Kinda hanging there about seven feet off the ground. So when they come around that corner there, eh, and there I am hanging in the air. So they're slamming on the brakes and screaming and I'm dancing on their windshields and over their car rooves and scuffing up their hoods with my boots. Hilarious. That was the funniest thing. And that was like, you know 80 miles an hour.
Yeah. So. Yeah. Telling ya. That's how it happened.
I took the Golden Lab, the Blue Heeler, and the Norwegian Elkhound out at 'bout noon. I started at my great grandmother's homestead and I guess I must have walked about a mile North towards Bethesda and then East to the highway. I was pretty much at that little ravine that dips before the crossroad, you know where I mean.
And it was one of those days where everybody in the world who was behind a steering wheel was wearing reflective sunglasses. I find those make you look real thoughtful even if you're not.
(This is the same homestead that I was sent to for my "retreat" some time back. You remember the pig armies, the leper squatters, and that mile high tree? That's the place. If any of you good people have a record of that time I would much appreciate if you could send it back my way.)
So, out on the gravel north and east of my great grandmother's homestead with these dogs of mine which most of you know are not the most obedient mutts; I guess I just don't have the knack. They might as well be deaf and me mute. Half the time I think they're just fucking with me.
I mean, I know that they know the pickup truck is coming. I know that they're going to trot into the ditch at the last second. And I also know that they know which is the business end of a swather. I know. I know. For christ sake they were born farm dogs and I was born city. I know all these things but that doesn't stop me from having a thousand petty core sweats every time I scream at those fucking dogs to stay close to me... every time I see one of the dustcloud Koffry boys coming down the road in that old blue Fargo, everytime the Heeler goes off into the canola that Vernon's harvesting.
Every time. Makes me shit my pants every time.
If one of those dogs were to catch it... that would be the end of my walking days... I couldn't handle it. And that's why I yell at 'em. I yell at them dogs so hard some times it feels like my eyes are going to bust. Louder I yell, the less they listen. Go figger. So I'm yelling at the Lab "COME HERE COME HERE GET OFF THE FUCKIN ROAD STAY OFF THE FUCKIN ROAD" and that Lab she just pretends like I'm not yelling at her and the Fargo zips past me at like 90 miles an hour and the Elkhound is prancing off behind some sign waiting to dash in front of Vernon's combine and I don't know where the Heeler is except that I know she aint at my heel and when my yelling hit that pickup truck... When my eyebusting yell hit the side of that dusttail rock spitting pickup truck, when my words hit that rust... that was it, young Koffry and I knew... Spinzia A was born.
Yeah.
Now I aint worried about the Heeler or the Elkhound in a tora nado. Those are two smart dogs they was bred that way to be smart. But fuckin Golden Labs. They were bred to be stupid. I don't mean that the way it sounds. I mean, I love the Golden Lab, but that's one stupid dog you got to admit. It's the scientific genetics of it. They were bred to save people's lives even at the cost of their own. Now that's just contrary to your survival instinct, and that's as good a definition of stupid as you'll ever need. And what's a stupid dog going to do in the approach of a tora nado. Tell you what she's going to do. Nothin. And that's what she did. Nothin. Just trotted along and ignore me all the time and I'm yelling at her "HEY THERE'S A TORA NADO RIGHT BEHIND YOU GET INTO THE TREES" and sure enough Spinzia A just bore down on that stupid dog and picked her up and spun her around like a top. Probably dropped her in the Saskatchewan River. North or South doesn't matter. She's a good swimmer. That dog'll be back.
Stupid dog. Just stood there in the midst of a tora nado coming on. I saw it all coming. I tried to warn her. Now she's swimming in the Saskatchewan.
But then Spinzia A decides that she hasn't had enough fun yet and she starts coming for me. So. Can't outrun a tora nado. Don't even try. I just went limp when she picked me up and went along for the ride. When she saw I wasn't scared of her I think she kinda warmed up to me that tora nado. I mean she still was a tora nado and it was still a bull ride you bet it was but she wasn't trying to kill me at least. Just scare me. Make me shit myself or throw up or something. It was fun. And man, that Spinzia A, she knew how to fuck with drivers with their sedans on the highway.
She had me hanging over the highway for a little while and the rain's coming down the way it does like that so the tarmac's pretty slippery, eh. And then, uh... so I'm at the crossroad right. Kinda hanging there about seven feet off the ground. So when they come around that corner there, eh, and there I am hanging in the air. So they're slamming on the brakes and screaming and I'm dancing on their windshields and over their car rooves and scuffing up their hoods with my boots. Hilarious. That was the funniest thing. And that was like, you know 80 miles an hour.
Yeah. So. Yeah. Telling ya. That's how it happened.
posted by steve at 11:44 AM
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