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Eric

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36 minutes ago, janice6 said:

An animal can identify with shared experiences.  It's called bonding.

When they're both that young,  spending all day and doing everything together,  it's a "pack" bonding.

Some of the nicest friendliest dogs that ran loose in our neighborhoods would go berserk,  if you shoved their two-legged mate to the ground.

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Mom raised cairn terriers (Toto dogs).  They are known for being scrappy little buggers.

One male dog, Mackie,  once went gonzo, and chewed up five kids,  after they threw rocks at me and made me yelp.  Attacked them all at the same time.  Like a tornado.

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Our dog, Tubby, (one of Mackie's ancestors, probably)  one got out of the fence (Texas) to attack a pack of semi-feral dogs in the dirt road.  I heard the commotion, and looked out the window.  Some were, probably, real feral cowdogs.

I bolted out,  expecting to find a bloody carnage,  of where my dog used to be.

I got around the fence,  and down the road,  and found Tubby jaw-locked onto some shepherd's neck,  swinging around,  his feet weren't even touching the ground.  He was growling and shaking his head furiously.

So, the big dog's in the middle,  with a little snarling maniac on his neck,  and all the other dogs had backed up into a huge circle,  watching the show.

The big dog was trying to run in circles,  backwards, going, "WTF! WTF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!!"

I yelled,  and kicked dirt,  and Tubby let go,  and all the dogs ran away.

Tubby had this really cool strut,  when he knew he was badz.

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We went camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  We had just pulled into our camp and were stretching our legs,  when some people down the road yelled, "Hey!  Want to see some bears?!?"

So we walked down.  Further down,  bears were all hanging around the dumpsters.  We talked to the nice people for a while,  and turned to leave.

I had left the big sliding side-door of the van open.   There was a bear's ass sticking out of it.

Tubby,  by now,  was ancient-old and deaf and blind and a scabby little rhinoceros.  He was asleep in the back of the van.  I ran for a little bit,  but then skidded to a halt when I realized that I didn't want to fight a bear.

Then the van exploded.

The bear shot out like a bolt of lightning (with one of our coolers in his face),  and took off like a rocket,  with Tubby making fierce noises, and chewing him nine assholes, all at once.  They both disappeared over the hill,  into the forest.

By the time we got up there,  Tubby came strutting (that strut) from the woods,  all cocky and proud.

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We were all walking down the path to the pond,  with all our toddler kids.  One of Mom's males, Kipper,  as far as we knew,  had never even seen a snake.

But there was a HUGE copperhead,  right in the path.  We hadn't even seen it.  But the dog did.

Ten people yelling, "NO!!!",  and the little dog charged,  grabbed the snake right behind the head,  and went into a psycho head-whipping frenzy.  He whipped that snake into several pieces,  and then just instantly stopped,  dropped it,  and strutted around,  all badz.

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1 hour ago, Jack Ryan said:

I bet a block of dry ice and a hammer could do that.

Welded rail has been a blessing and a curse for the industry.

it’s a lot faster and smoother, but a joint still has room for expansion and contraction. Welded rail doesn’t.

with a temperature range from 100 in the summer to negative numbers in the winter, we can have miles of stress “pile up” on the weakest section of rail.

238A71BE-AA59-49EB-AEC3-BB7F901D4D81.jpeg.67d6671f30b390168e482bb1e3c9b67a.jpeg
heated rail expands

84268D91-54AB-47A0-B6D1-788F2829F0DB.jpeg.dbc15863d258fa38045c886fb0264ab6.jpeg
cold weather breaks

 

.


 

 

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1 hour ago, Huaco Kid said:

  and went into a psycho head-whipping frenzy.  He whipped that snake into several pieces,

It was a full minute of thing that can't be unseen.  A big, snarling, fury of nature gone wild. 

I don't know if it ever demented any of the kids,  we never asked.

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We were camping around Scotland (where these yappy dogs originated) (I was very little) and Mackie and Piper (the two first ones) ran off into the sheep fields.

They had never seen a sheep.  But they instantly teamed-up and herded them all into a corner.

Then we met the nice farmer,  with his shotgun,  because stupid Americans.  And their stupid dogs.  And stuff.

Mom had a major knack of making friends,  so the dogs didn't get blown off.

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I once saw these dogs get a rabbit.  A little yappy dog can't catch a rabbit.

But, two of them can. 

They don't even know how they're doing it.  Instincts kick in,  and they turn into a running-flying pack of hungry animals.

All one needs is a tiny bite of tail-tuft,  and the other one swoops in,  and then it's just a mass of growling and flying fur.

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Mackie once saw an armadillo.  Bang...  attack mode.

The thing had gone down a hole,  and Mackie went in,  and then I was up to my shoulder,  holding onto his tail.  I dragged him out.

I don't know how far he would have gone.  Or what he thought he was going to do with the armadillo,  when he caught it.

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Some of Mom's dogs were very expensive show dogs.  My reproduction is not near as lucrative.

So,  for a couple weeks,  they'd be all puffed and brushed and fluffy and perfumed and shorn.  And holding their tail right.  And cocky.  Cocky is a plus, for these dogs.  They know that part.

And the next week,  me and the dogs would be shooting the pigs with a bb gun, and throwing firecrackers down into the armadillo holes.  And then they couldn't even be brushed,  because there was so much Texas all brambled into their hair, and the brush wouldn't even go in.

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Rule 1 of dog shows is:  "Don't bite the Judge."

Which is fine,  for a cage-raised ***** dog.

Any dog I ever hung with,  if you grab him by the balls,  you're probably gonna get bit.

"He attacks armadillos in the face.  I wouldn't grab his balls,  if I were you."

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