It is five-thirty a.m. My four-legged alarm clock – Ernie – is bed side, parked in the darkness on the floor staring at me. When I try to ignore him – which is most mornings – he lets out a nearly imperceptible whimper. That’s audible number one. Trying to hide is a fool’s task but I attempt it anyway. Predictably
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We finished our early morning walk uneventfully. Getting ready to return inside Ernie stopped, looked at me and sat down. That’s his way of talking. In this case I wasn’t sure what he wanted since we had just done our jaunt. My first reaction was to give him a second go, but he took a few steps and re-seated himself on
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What put me onto this quirky subject was a recent foggy morning walk with Ernie. We were out in the pastures and into my nostrils wafted a noticeable scent of celery. Celery? It has been growing in my raised test-bed since March, and doing very well. However, over twenty-five years have passed since I first started it from seed and
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Visiting College Station last week on business I took the opportunity to stop at a Petco. They have everything imaginable for dogs. Ernie is a connoisseur of a certain type of toy that I knew would be a good present. Shelf shopping up and down the aisles I found the small fuzzy ones that have an embedded small balloon-like device that squeaks when bitten
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Ernie bolts out of the Shack for his morning walk with the enthusiasm of American Pharaoh leaving the starting gate. I catch up with him as he leads the way with conviction down the well-worn path to pasture. Frequent stops are made so he can sniff out any rabbit that might be hiding in the high grass alongside the welded
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I first did it a couple of weeks ago. There was an early evening respite from being inside watching the soaking rain. A southerly breeze began kicking up and the rear of the truck seemed a good place to sit and enjoy the jostling air. I knew that Ernie would agree as he lights up at any opportunity to be
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Ernie has now been with me since the end of last December. At about fifteen months old he gets to roam safely, free of big-city traffic and tumult. With his amazing nose he has replaced chasing tailpipes with pasture-resident rabbits, cows, goats and field mice. And I know he is happy because he tells me so. On numerous occasions sitting outside
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It is 2:22 a.m. Ernie starts barking. Not just one or two obligatory warnings, but a dedicated alarum. I flick on the outback lights. The beams highlight a solitary killdeer, a bird common to Texas and North America. What is the grounded aviator doing out there in the cold and fog at this early hour of a winter morning? Startled
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Ernie the intrepid and I went out for the nightly walk. Bog-like conditions from leftover rain don’t faze him; visibility near zero, no problem. And throw in the scent of a rabbit, swoosh………. his twenty pounds stretch the leash as taut as a mooring line in a hurricane. If they put a rabbit in front of a railcar I think
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