tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45581251776013440332024-03-14T02:17:47.584-04:00Deuce's DayKC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.comBlogger377125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-37690704661509724772024-03-07T20:28:00.001-05:002024-03-07T20:28:17.839-05:00I impressed my vet! <p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJrF2_NiPFLNL66ukQ2DPNgjc3LqmO720rs3Vl3GWaxvIxSSs4JVLGRq6hJSOX6XW7vMF30k15zlbVMCp8rHQaYfNSUhA8HrvJFYv-MAX8z0NammlrGgMFTTgIsFVmxH6rTs0xDyBBbtaJIXhxzlafNbfiq5bsJ9Iusrzr9RsQyB8dnzDIyexwSscxRyQ/s2048/21_013021%20Deuce%20wanting%20snackies%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJrF2_NiPFLNL66ukQ2DPNgjc3LqmO720rs3Vl3GWaxvIxSSs4JVLGRq6hJSOX6XW7vMF30k15zlbVMCp8rHQaYfNSUhA8HrvJFYv-MAX8z0NammlrGgMFTTgIsFVmxH6rTs0xDyBBbtaJIXhxzlafNbfiq5bsJ9Iusrzr9RsQyB8dnzDIyexwSscxRyQ/s320/21_013021%20Deuce%20wanting%20snackies%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b><br />Mom and I have had a time of it this past month. Dad was in the hospital and poor little Deucie had to spend some time alone. I did not like this. Now Dad is in for some needed rehab and I'm still being left alone! But Mom has a plan!</b><p></p><p><b>Mom tries to make it up to me every evening. I get treats. I get brushed. Mom feels guilty she has to leave me alone but I know she has to keep watch over Dad to make sure he's getting what he needs. </b></p><p><b>As luck would have it, my annual checkup was this morning. I was born in January, so my checkups happen in March. I have a new vet and I think I like her. She scratched my belly so maybe I'm in love! </b></p><p><b>I checked out A-Okay! Ears, eyes, teeth = all good. She used a flea comb on me and didn't find a single "hitchhiker." That's because I do not have fleas. If I had fleas I couldn't sleep on the bed with Mom, so I do not have fleas! </b></p><p><b>The vet said I weighed ninety-three pounds and then she felt my sides and was impressed by my muscles. She should be. I'm an athlete! Just ask the local deer have fast I can run. Mom told her that walking season is here so those extra three pounds will go away, but the vet said not to worry. I'm a tall country boy with lots of muscles so it's okay if I'm a bit over the breed standard weight. My vet has some common sense! She knows it's almost walking season and I'll lose those pesky winter pounds.</b></p><p><b>My new vet also signed a paper to certify I've had all my shots and I'm healthy. That piece of paper will get me in to see Dad and that's a good thing! I miss Dad and Mom says he misses me, too. So Mom will take me to see him and he'll be home before we know it. I can't wait! </b></p><p><b>After all, Dad spoils me with more biscuits than Mom does. </b></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Labrador Retriever, Lab dogs, country dogs, vet visits, rural living, good dogs, dog biscuits, breed standards, hospitals, rehabs</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-76639308998243564402024-02-11T07:58:00.002-05:002024-02-11T07:58:40.889-05:00It's about time I'm showcased!<p><b> Finally! Mom took the videos off the trail cams, and I'm a star! Well, I'm always a star, but you know. Now the camera proves it! </b></p><p><b>I have to give Mom a bit of a pass. Not much, mind you. Dad's been sick and she's had her paws...er...hands full taking care of him. I sure hope he gets better soon because I miss our afternoon trips to the mailbox. Anyway...</b></p><p><b>Mom and I went to get those little blue thingees out of the trail cams. Mom calls them SD cards, so okay. Whatever. There was a short vid of ME walking in the snow.</b></p><p><b>Snow is cold on my paws, but I'm tough. Mom puts boots on her, um, feet. That might make her a weenie, but don't tell her I said that. </b></p><p><b>The west forty is full of really neat smells. Even in the snow, I know who's been in my yard. Deer, foxes, raccoons, opossums, more foxes, skunks, and even a coyote. I really, really, really don't like that a coyote has been here. He's worse than the foxes. </b></p><p><b>It's still early February, but Mom says we're going to work in the woodyard today. I'll be able to wander around, within reason, while she works. That's a good thing in little Deucie's world. </b></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx7DvjA6G4dz38Qq_txsVl1V60wKh4K9dJhxhzfejKJIVa2sesX50fONxx-szzQkkU9a3G6p7-jE7xbuzGuTA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Labrador Retriever, rural living, trail cam, wildlife, coyote, fox, skunk, country dogs, good dogs, snow days, happy dogs, dog videos</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-6667090564740098212024-01-21T08:07:00.003-05:002024-01-21T08:07:48.369-05:00A snowy walkabout<p><b> It snowed a lot! There is snow everywhere! I convinced Mom I had to have a walkabout so I could see who left tracks in my yard. Mom received my telepathic command (for once!) and off we went. We didn't stay out long because my paws got cold! </b></p><p><b>Mom took a video so everyone can come along!</b></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cjHaWm94uTs" width="320" youtube-src-id="cjHaWm94uTs"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, Labrador Retriever, black Lab, snow day, good dogs, country living, dog video, dog blog, happy dog</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-50650198122480254002024-01-20T07:19:00.001-05:002024-01-29T08:46:43.829-05:00I'm a little worried<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifT7lKzY86xnHIrxJo4cuRGb9cU4Hucj7qQwf-JUBkl9gYiLUy-YESkKXa_Z7pBKSv-UZd99sMwKHzNyumXm7QKTW7kD7gFfoDpNK4mo5fGkGENuSJ5uRnKX3nNZXQLokbdw-KR24PNhMT3XtJuWPSMwBz75aAT7i1uDVEbsWciJsn6b3EJCzHKOJxL7Wh/s1438/24_011924%20snow%20measure.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1438" data-original-width="1258" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifT7lKzY86xnHIrxJo4cuRGb9cU4Hucj7qQwf-JUBkl9gYiLUy-YESkKXa_Z7pBKSv-UZd99sMwKHzNyumXm7QKTW7kD7gFfoDpNK4mo5fGkGENuSJ5uRnKX3nNZXQLokbdw-KR24PNhMT3XtJuWPSMwBz75aAT7i1uDVEbsWciJsn6b3EJCzHKOJxL7Wh/s320/24_011924%20snow%20measure.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><b><br />It snowed yesterday - a lot! I didn't like going outside to do my, you know, "outside activities" because Mom didn't go with me. She told me I was a big dog and I shouldn't need someone to hold my paw when I have to pee-pee. </b><p></p><p><b>That's not the point! </b></p><p><b>I need someone to go along and tell me I'm a good boy!!!!</b></p><p><b>It snowed all day. Mom and Dad just hung out inside. The good news there is I got eggs for breakfast and a bit of spaghetti for an after-dinner snack. </b></p><p><b>Snow can be a lot of fun, but what if Mom doesn't take me for a walk? What if she doesn't take pictures of me playing in the snow? Does being eight mean you worry more about stuff? </b></p><p><b>I'm a little worried being eight will change things. I mean, Mom got me SENIOR dog food for some of my snackies. SENIOR!! It's crappy, too. I don't like it much. </b></p><p><b>And then there are those chewies for my joints. Flavored my black ass! Nasty flavored is what they are. And I know Mom is going to make me eat all of them. </b></p><p><b>We're going to be outside in the snow a lot today. Or at least Mom is. I have to be careful not to let her know my paws are cold or she'll make me go back inside with Dad. I won't like that because I need to keep an eye on her when she's on the John Deere 1023 tractor. </b></p><p><b>Maybe I can convince Mom to do a little walk around the yard to get pictures of me and then I can go inside with Dad. We can watch Mom through the window. </b></p><p><b>Yeah, I think that's the plan. </b></p><p><b>I think being eight means I'm more of an independent thinker, but then again, I worry about stuff a lot more. </b></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Lab, Labrador Retrievers, country dogs, snow days, rural living, a writer's life, John Deere 1023, snow removal, good dogs, </span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-62034805507200597402024-01-14T21:05:00.002-05:002024-01-29T08:45:11.124-05:00Today is my birthday!<p> I'm eight years old today, and Mom put together a collage of her favorite pictures of her best boy - ME!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9Mz1w0Xr4pt24lndbEJrzP5bwG4ix-yp7I1ndXdvg_Xqoz13-AG41WdDQPCAzDgyNkWtBgJV3n2qKz0ngZx1XThx1Sr1z_s3VR0i_u1kvZO38L9IHvpjA1DQCzfi3RGYmKResc6pfN2uuvl7M4Kmj7E-ASi_MblGHB3g3VumuSFx4ED3skihcCHk5PS6/s2640/24_011424-Deuce's-birthday-collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2640" data-original-width="2640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9Mz1w0Xr4pt24lndbEJrzP5bwG4ix-yp7I1ndXdvg_Xqoz13-AG41WdDQPCAzDgyNkWtBgJV3n2qKz0ngZx1XThx1Sr1z_s3VR0i_u1kvZO38L9IHvpjA1DQCzfi3RGYmKResc6pfN2uuvl7M4Kmj7E-ASi_MblGHB3g3VumuSFx4ED3skihcCHk5PS6/s320/24_011424-Deuce's-birthday-collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-79829879023471145712024-01-09T14:59:00.001-05:002024-01-09T14:59:04.709-05:00I want hazard pay!!!<b>It's a new year and the same old Sadie. </b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIPgATbfjBOGG5labbU2JZUIDA3zhyphenhyphenpcfykM5Rm1GCFGqUpeqsRu3mGYgpU72bnxcCrTsF3kyiUo2lOGFsMdzOQQ_ZIkabZOdiGstQMwKaaOpTEbQPmm-Q9fosKym_PZYUj7tWgBvB93tJDfwA_pO4ehSnDUgrUUe2DSV5NCH0raUBJ-oO0tXWPHsyizdZ/s3264/24_010924%20Sadie%20having%20a%20bad%20day.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIPgATbfjBOGG5labbU2JZUIDA3zhyphenhyphenpcfykM5Rm1GCFGqUpeqsRu3mGYgpU72bnxcCrTsF3kyiUo2lOGFsMdzOQQ_ZIkabZOdiGstQMwKaaOpTEbQPmm-Q9fosKym_PZYUj7tWgBvB93tJDfwA_pO4ehSnDUgrUUe2DSV5NCH0raUBJ-oO0tXWPHsyizdZ/s320/24_010924%20Sadie%20having%20a%20bad%20day.jpg" width="240" /></b></a></div><p></p><p><b>Yep. Mom and Dad <a href="https://hollytreemanor.blogspot.com/2024/01/dreary-days.html" target="_blank">doggy-sat Sadie </a>the Heathen again today. Did they consult with me first? Nooooo. They most certainly did not. </b></p><p><b>It was pretty obvious Sadie was having a bad day. She wouldn't listen to Mom at all, and she usually does. When Mom says, "SIT," she means the dog's butt should hit the floor. I know it. Sadie knows it, too. But today Sadie ignored Mom. </b></p><p><b>Mom tried to take her picture, but they all came out looking like a demon dog, which was accurate for today. </b></p><p><b>Sadie followed Mom downstairs to the den, which is a big no-no. Loki's litter box is down there and it's off-limits to canines. Then Sadie made a grab for Loki's feeder, also a big no-no. It's a good thing Loki wasn't there when she did that. He's not one to mess around with when he's pissed off. </b></p><p><b>Oops. I'm not supposed to say that. When he's annoyed. Don't mess with Loki when he's annoyed. </b></p><p><b>Cousin Dave wasn't gone all that long, I'm happy to say. Things got back to normal after they left and I finally got my morning nap. </b></p><p><b>I'm going to ask Mom and Dad for hazard pay. I want ten extra biscuits this evening. I'll be counting! </b></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Lab, Labrador Retriever, rural living, dog sitting, hazard pay, good dogs, rainy days, dog treats, </span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-50475818897081327102023-12-28T20:39:00.001-05:002024-01-06T10:46:09.271-05:00We had a lot going on!<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZxPUBpDugSDPIOsOIArtSeXxUUeXAes-nNe_wxfrknfX7q70vJJRY2yA71GsbO8KusHZyNdi74p_-kRm5tKGNdJROPm89hrK5YTspOMDFAwiYuvN0HO4dWqU688drwgP14P7_toVAiwNB8CP49jpY2PrQaq94MAfX5qO6xYyrforGZZZIYm2Sv3L-Jta/s2688/17_011517%20Deuce%20bedroom%20photoshoot%20(11).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1520" data-original-width="2688" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZxPUBpDugSDPIOsOIArtSeXxUUeXAes-nNe_wxfrknfX7q70vJJRY2yA71GsbO8KusHZyNdi74p_-kRm5tKGNdJROPm89hrK5YTspOMDFAwiYuvN0HO4dWqU688drwgP14P7_toVAiwNB8CP49jpY2PrQaq94MAfX5qO6xYyrforGZZZIYm2Sv3L-Jta/s320/17_011517%20Deuce%20bedroom%20photoshoot%20(11).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><br /></b></div><b><br />Mom was going to blog for me first thing this morning, but her computer did something really wonky. She was not happy. She got all these messages about a recovery assist and stuff - she really wasn't happy. Finally, after about two hours, the computer came back to life. Mom spent the day making sure she had all her documents, pictures, music, and videos backed up instead of being with me. </b><p></p><p><b>I don't like computers. Then again, Mom made sure all the pictures of me were safe, so maybe I'll think about that a bit more. </b></p><p><b>It seems like we get really busy sometimes. I was on guard duty a lot in December. Mom and Dad went up to Aunt Donna's and I watched the house. Twice! And Mom left me in charge when she went and had lunch with her friends a couple of times. I like being home with Dad. It's like the good old days when Mom worked. I get a lot of snackies when Mom isn't here. </b></p><p><b>And then Dad got sick. That wasn't any fun at all. He coughed a lot and slept in his chair. And his stomach was so upset he didn't want to eat and me and Mom didn't like that. He's better now.</b></p><p><b>I got to ride along with Mom to the landfill twice, but I couldn't go with her when the pickup got an oil change. Dogs aren't allowed at the garage. Then on Christmas Eve we took a drive to see the Christmas lights. That was okay, I guess. Mom was disappointed because there wasn't very many, but I was happy I DID NOT see a blow-up Santa on a roof. That would give a good dog chills! </b></p><p><b>Mom worked in the woodyard when the days were warm. I love being outside when she's doing that! I can sniff everything! Well, not the skunk. I hope I don't ever run into him, but I could tell a lot of deer were hanging around the woodpiles. </b></p><p><b>I helped Mom work on two stories, too. She doesn't know it, but I really don't help. I nap on the bed where I can keep an eye on her while she works. She has this bad habit of sneaking out the sunroom door without me, so I have to be alert. I'm on to her tricks. </b></p><p><b>Mom roasted a turkey for Christmas dinner. Yum!! I love giblets! I saw blue foil in the fridge and I know that means ham in a few days. Ham is good, too. Oh, and we had steak one night! Super yummy!!</b></p><p><b>Mom and Dad say this year is about over. I'll be eight soon. But you know what? The only time that matters is the time today, right now. So I just try to live in the moment and remember not to bite anyone, or bark in Mom or Dad's ears. I've always been pretty smart that way. </b></p><p><b>New Year's Eve is coming and there's talk about a big ball again. Maybe it'll be better than the ball last year. That was a real bust. How's a good dog supposed to play with that thing? </b></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, black Labrador Retriever, good dogs, hunting dogs, rural living, country lifestyle, a writer's life, champion blood lines, black Lab</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-25981610323678830972023-12-03T13:44:00.005-05:002023-12-03T13:44:51.995-05:00It's a stinky problem<p><b>I sure hope Mom and Dad take care of this one. I might be the dog, but I'll pass!</b></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dkAVUg6bLnk" width="320" youtube-src-id="dkAVUg6bLnk"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-46307739146053191752023-11-18T10:18:00.001-05:002023-11-22T11:43:55.004-05:00It is so funny!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hyMIUhvl8AHooW0T7s0sbfTYBhrDsd5vNmTpeQuaiw8V0vKW9PGTsNcrDsWi-D8QsASxTwVRJ8YsebtkBIjHVLQRnEyXy4wY_84zAUSNxfg9v03rSePl5-m6WimK2fypn4MnaA1v8yv1tfpul8sC-j0SQRYdeIa8rsOc4TJQyZG8GbCllsbTVzA_Csr6/s3264/23_111823%20Loki%20on%20porch.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hyMIUhvl8AHooW0T7s0sbfTYBhrDsd5vNmTpeQuaiw8V0vKW9PGTsNcrDsWi-D8QsASxTwVRJ8YsebtkBIjHVLQRnEyXy4wY_84zAUSNxfg9v03rSePl5-m6WimK2fypn4MnaA1v8yv1tfpul8sC-j0SQRYdeIa8rsOc4TJQyZG8GbCllsbTVzA_Csr6/s320/23_111823%20Loki%20on%20porch.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><b><br />I guess I'm a baaaaad dog. Do dogs snicker? I do.</b><p></p><p><b>Do dogs get amused by their housemates? I do. </b></p><p><b>It rained last night, so first thing this morning, the grass was wet. Okay, not my favorite thing to have to get my paws wet in order to take care of my morning, you know, business, but I can deal with it. </b></p><p><b>Can Loki deal with it? Oh, not so much! </b></p><p><b>He sat on the porch and looked disgusted. </b></p><p><b>It was GREAT!!!!</b></p><p><b>I'm a baaaaad dog and I do not care</b>! </p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Labrador Retriever, country lifestyle, good dogs, tuxedo cats, rural living, a writer's life, bad dogs, funny cats</span></i> </p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-85778814185724529612023-10-27T07:24:00.001-04:002023-11-22T11:43:30.091-05:00I knew this guy was out there<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD75pScr7Y6LRpnFtJPNFm1BMiEO742ls574rLeRYtOUXiOY13wZBH89oAT7HNmKNGvrO5xQnu0yvlu9I9gslf20PU2ooK9JvXcMFcVqUfRzSHIEgcDIGM-AQNq_ad-rNnWJOpDEsMr5Z65ICQQ7V8v5vpFxfhBV0rr7O4zzrdXHn4LppVrxcSQqelLKBg/s751/Screenshot%202023-10-26%20080348.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="751" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD75pScr7Y6LRpnFtJPNFm1BMiEO742ls574rLeRYtOUXiOY13wZBH89oAT7HNmKNGvrO5xQnu0yvlu9I9gslf20PU2ooK9JvXcMFcVqUfRzSHIEgcDIGM-AQNq_ad-rNnWJOpDEsMr5Z65ICQQ7V8v5vpFxfhBV0rr7O4zzrdXHn4LppVrxcSQqelLKBg/s320/Screenshot%202023-10-26%20080348.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><br />Mom replaced the trail cam and we're having fun with it. The old one started to smoke when Mom replaced the batteries and she worried it might catch fire and burn down our trees, so she tossed it. The new one is better because it takes color pictures in daylight. I always go along and help retrieve the SD card because, hey - I'm a Labrador Retriever with champion bloodlines! I retrieve things! </b><p></p><p><b>I've been telling Mom and Dad there are lots of deer in our woods at night. They do believe me. The only thing they say is I should use my inside voice late at night. </b></p><p><b>Yeah, right. I have the biggest bark on the mountain and I'll use it when necessary. When this guy is traipsing around my backyard, it's necessary. </b></p><p><b>I don't think I'm going to run after this buck. He's more the sort to stand his ground and that could be bad for little Deucie. I don't fancy being stuck by antlers. </b></p><p><b>Hey, Dad! Is venison as good as beef? Why don't we check that out this year? We're not getting any younger, you know. </b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, venison, black Labrador Retriever, country living, white-tailed deer, buck deer, antlers, barking dogs</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-44548441665886620002023-10-15T12:31:00.001-04:002023-11-22T11:43:02.263-05:00I only got a little wet<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><b style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjV-1EwZi0yIO273Hr3vKUJF7aI1Wl9NQDhyXwkevVpGUozOCFnq5afk5jbwqq1hUi-LxsHxFmWv-hEywiCgupr3bhJe0AmrW_mktqMpFbFD9FEzqbSs8ibRYsmXJD15QbspCcGfdauP5FH-TdXmG9ivgMrBihDE-tBztmg6aLwkcTRywu_J7HAte3Tyx3/s592/wet%20head.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="592" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjV-1EwZi0yIO273Hr3vKUJF7aI1Wl9NQDhyXwkevVpGUozOCFnq5afk5jbwqq1hUi-LxsHxFmWv-hEywiCgupr3bhJe0AmrW_mktqMpFbFD9FEzqbSs8ibRYsmXJD15QbspCcGfdauP5FH-TdXmG9ivgMrBihDE-tBztmg6aLwkcTRywu_J7HAte3Tyx3/s320/wet%20head.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />It's really good to be a dog in the country! I can go for walks and not have to be on the leash, and I can play in the creek. It's not that I mind being on the leash. It's like a tangible connection to Mom, so it's okay. She can't get away from me when we're sharing the leash. And what Labrador Retriever worth his pedigree wouldn't like playing in the water? </b></b></div><p></p><p><b>Mom really likes it when I jump in the creeks and splash around. She whoops and yells and tells me to "go for it" whatever that means. And she takes a lot of pictures of me. </b></p><p><b>But the best part is I can just be a dog. Yeah, I'm still on watchdog duty in case someone else is on the trail, but I can relax and enjoy being on a walk. Mom knows this and lets me be me. All dogs need a good Mom like that. </b></p><p><b>Just remember that even a good Mom (or Dad) is going to laugh at you if you stick your head under the water. And it's also a sure thing they will take your picture. </b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Labrador Retriever, country dogs, rural living, walk in the woods, good dogs, dogs in the creek, free dogs</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-65460437872487064122023-10-06T09:50:00.001-04:002023-10-09T10:46:02.518-04:00It was really noisy!<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrW9WVjK416voynt3QkUR-Z5niLn6afYZkd86x2s9hKeAX1cQlL7wJr0M_gGPLfBeVeslLyEmWPR0wYcksAXZrMIVILXhMjd-bkCn4SK23K8cKq_Is_Nicev6gET2BQeugXyB19cAK0tO_pHhN3h8FyNVxPFsHisl_T1pHS3TnbqfrHzyY8uJf8PtXPOJL/s3264/23_100623%20Deuce%20examines%20the%20job.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrW9WVjK416voynt3QkUR-Z5niLn6afYZkd86x2s9hKeAX1cQlL7wJr0M_gGPLfBeVeslLyEmWPR0wYcksAXZrMIVILXhMjd-bkCn4SK23K8cKq_Is_Nicev6gET2BQeugXyB19cAK0tO_pHhN3h8FyNVxPFsHisl_T1pHS3TnbqfrHzyY8uJf8PtXPOJL/s320/23_100623%20Deuce%20examines%20the%20job.jpg" width="240" /></a></b></div><b><br />I like peace and quiet. I can hear lots of things rustling in the woods when it's quiet. I know when a squirrel gets too close to my den and when the deer are trying to sneak through the back yard. I'm Deuce. I hear everything.</b><p></p><p><b>But a few days ago, it got really noisy here. I didn't like this, but Mom and Dad acted like it was no big deal so I had to just put up with it. The<a href="https://hollytreemanor.blogspot.com/2023/10/tree-carnage-tree-service-was-here.html" target="_blank"> tree-trimmer people were here</a> and they made NOISE. </b></p><p><b>I'm a little unclear why Mom and Dad thought it was okay to have them cut down a tree, make noise, make a mess, run a skid loader all over MY woods, and use this chipper thing to clean up the mess. I didn't like any of it, but hey. I'm the dog and they don't listen to me.</b></p><p><b>I stayed on the porch with Mom and Dad and watched until the chipping started. It hurt my ears so I ducked inside. I could still hear it but it wasn't as bad. When it was all over, I walked out with Mom and sniffed everything. </b></p><p><b>You know what? It wasn't all that interesting to a dog. But Mom is right about one thing. The local squirrels are not going to be happy those trees are gone. </b></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, black Labrador Retriever, sporting dogs, hunting dogs, country dogs</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-19022312044559633172023-09-21T11:43:00.001-04:002023-09-21T11:46:16.279-04:00I'm going on doggie strike! <p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HFBAyMVxQz7rGqGnDq5a4Brs1TfZ2SKF3wxcLGmWs1XzuFXSrhJ976BVjAbVq6a1-KfWRetXaAD8c80cFtVY9UKKpfRjxkaPoNprga0FxfXyDkm8F6__9f8c3tm9XQ-HZa9pZp1et6oFjvE9rD3Hxlc_s5aRb71LK9h8H30ocz4famk9AT7e7KbIgJs2/s3264/20211224_175200.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HFBAyMVxQz7rGqGnDq5a4Brs1TfZ2SKF3wxcLGmWs1XzuFXSrhJ976BVjAbVq6a1-KfWRetXaAD8c80cFtVY9UKKpfRjxkaPoNprga0FxfXyDkm8F6__9f8c3tm9XQ-HZa9pZp1et6oFjvE9rD3Hxlc_s5aRb71LK9h8H30ocz4famk9AT7e7KbIgJs2/s320/20211224_175200.jpg" width="240" /></a></b></div><b><br />It's dog abuse, that's what it is. I've only been on ONE car ride this whole month. It's not fair! Mom & Dad went to look at <a href="https://hollytreemanor.blogspot.com/2023/09/monterey-pass-road-trip.html" target="_blank">some stupid plaque</a> and did your boy get to go along? Nooooo! And they went to some place called City Park to watch some stupid fireworks show that lasted a whole eleven minutes. Did I get to go? Nooooo! </b><p></p><p><b>Okay. Mom did take me along when she went to the transfer station yesterday. I like doing that. Lots and lots of dogs get to ride along on the trash run. Us pups get to woof at each other, just saying hello. We're not allowed to get out of our vehicles right there. But that was yesterday, and Mom did not take me along two weeks ago when she took the trash to put in the big bin. </b></p><p><b>And last Sunday when you <a href="https://hollytreemanor.blogspot.com/2023/09/sitting-by-fire-on-rainy-day.html" target="_blank">burned the brush pile</a>? Did little Deucie get to sit in the truck with you? No. I could have had a really nice nap by the fire, but noooo. You were even proud of leaving me inside with Dad. I won't forget this slight! </b></p><p><b>And how long ago was it you blogged for me? Weeks!!!</b></p><p><b>Mom just reminded me I've had some really good Frisbee time this past week. Sure, Mom. Try and make your boy look ungrateful. Why don't you go weed whack along the creek, huh? It's getting a little overgrown down there. I might run into a snake, you know. That would not be fun. </b></p><p><b>I'm going on strike! </b></p><p><b>No more deer patrol! No more squirrel patrol! No more barking to let you know a delivery truck is coming in the lane! </b></p><p><b>I want to go for a decent ride in the car and I want to go TODAY! </b></p><p><b>Please, Mom? Please? </b></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Labrador Retriever, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, rural living, fire, good dogs, country dog, a writer's life, blogs about dogs</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-89690775685277290592023-09-06T14:55:00.003-04:002023-09-26T07:03:56.561-04:00The best way to cool off on a hot day?<p><b> Make Dad take me to the creek, that's how! </b></p><p><b>Sometimes I think Dad can read my mind! It was sooooooooooo hot today that I got TWO trips to the creek to cool off. Mom went along once and took a video of me ambling along. </b></p><p><b>I mean, some days I really splash but did I mention it was hot today? I'm old enough to know not to exert myself in the heat. Dogs know these things.</b></p><p><b>Being able to cool off in the creek is great! I wish every dog could do it.</b> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JLn296T1JFc" width="320" youtube-src-id="JLn296T1JFc"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-10979508124988553422023-08-29T19:03:00.001-04:002023-08-29T19:04:33.636-04:00SHE was here again, and I was on my best behavior<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pkwYczDaRtb_6qY3XzGGC3qV-1fZcU1i37NC20KDmAC3SZCSKIE4Znlf5FOJH3Nm59Wy3n36W4cQOg218j7fEdYl5fdT63Yf4_-xTwQ98kVQ0Hv8R52-zZN7dJoMAniYWDm8CbNiQpLaeZVa6Xn99UNoKukIhyx_4DcSvKjzlp-BBOBhkxQb-5HkrFKk/s3264/20230826_091452.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pkwYczDaRtb_6qY3XzGGC3qV-1fZcU1i37NC20KDmAC3SZCSKIE4Znlf5FOJH3Nm59Wy3n36W4cQOg218j7fEdYl5fdT63Yf4_-xTwQ98kVQ0Hv8R52-zZN7dJoMAniYWDm8CbNiQpLaeZVa6Xn99UNoKukIhyx_4DcSvKjzlp-BBOBhkxQb-5HkrFKk/s320/20230826_091452.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><b>I had to babysit Sadie again. Her parents wanted to go see a Van Gogh exhibit or whatever, so Mom volunteered us to take care of Sadie. Why does she do that? I like my days to be full of whatever Mom and Dad are doing, and with HER here, nothing happens. In fact, the pack watched television the entire time SHE was here. Mom took us out to pee-pee and stuff, but boring. </b><p></p><p><b>I'd had my day all planned out, too. Around dawn, I chase the deer out of the front yard, then watch over Mom as she gets her emails handled. Then we have breakfast and coffee, which means snackies for me. After that, we go outside and do garden stuff, or walk, and then it's chores. Once chores are done, I get to nap while Mom is at the computer again. That was MY plan, which Mom shot all to smithereens. None of my plan happened. Nada. Nothing. Zippo. Zero.</b></p><p><b>I guess it wasn't all that bad, though. Sadie laid down and napped, so I did manage to snap a nap, too. Not my usual, but it had to do. Even though SHE wasn't too bad and didn't smack me in the face this time, I was glad to see Cousin Dave show up to take her home. Does that make me a bad dog? </b></p><p><b>Mom and Dad praised me for being a good dog, so that settles it. DEUCE IS A GOOD DOG!!!!</b></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Labrador Retriever, dog sitter, rural living, country lifestyle, whitetail deer, doggie naps, dog treats, writers on writing, Springer Spaniel, Van Gogh</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-75672667904124037082023-08-26T07:06:00.004-04:002023-08-26T07:12:54.233-04:00It's too hot to play ball<p><b>This summer has been a scorcher! I'm getting by, but only because Dad takes me down to the creek every day so I can get my belly wet. And I'm not supposed to talk about Pinkie, but when Pinkie hits the water, I REALLY cool off. </b></p><p><b>It's even been too hot to go for long walks since some of the smaller creeks are dry during the summer. Mom doesn't like it if I can't wade in, cool my paws, and get a drink. I don't like it, either. It's no wonder the deer come our way in the summer. We have water for them. </b></p><p><b>Dad knows that even though it's hot, I like to play with him a little. I won't chase the ball too many times, but I'll give him a chance to make a couple of throws. </b></p><p><b>Mom was over in the garden the other day and took a quick video of me chasing the ball and taking it back to Dad.</b></p><p><b>See how shiny my black fur is! I'm Deuce, and I'm looking good! </b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tSSzYARUtBg" width="320" youtube-src-id="tSSzYARUtBg"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;"> Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, black Labrador Retriever, Labs, country dogs, dog walking, rural living, country lifestyle, a writer's life, dog with a blog, balls, dog videos</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-35664306233378726482023-08-16T12:44:00.002-04:002023-09-16T15:19:47.053-04:00Loki is soooo annoying!<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyA5V3fF3PJldp8PXLNKs8CuxZxkVLAj-8uU69GpwQRUEcSvDagS6v-rRdtQvqWbpZ2HwjBk_WVu2ygUTLFlJNg6b0hadu7Rjs5Gkd46xJP2ttcWCK4FBHvJlyTGL5sFVxQ0MRtx8k8hLuj85fTolyxrzYo7evyZEH6hq5fF5eDlwRMTet_XaXP2_XMiCi/s3264/20230815_100355.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyA5V3fF3PJldp8PXLNKs8CuxZxkVLAj-8uU69GpwQRUEcSvDagS6v-rRdtQvqWbpZ2HwjBk_WVu2ygUTLFlJNg6b0hadu7Rjs5Gkd46xJP2ttcWCK4FBHvJlyTGL5sFVxQ0MRtx8k8hLuj85fTolyxrzYo7evyZEH6hq5fF5eDlwRMTet_XaXP2_XMiCi/s320/20230815_100355.jpg" width="240" /></a></b></div><b>I'm in a spot of trouble and I don't know why. Just look at the smirky expression on Loki's face. He plays all innocent-like and Mom falls for his act. I know better. </b><p></p><p><b>Mom says I have to play nice with Loki, but that cat is an IDIOT!!!!! He jumps at me all the time and I don't like it. Mom says he's trying to play with me and that's just the way cats do it. </b></p><p><b>I DO NOT CARE! I don't like being smacked in the face! Yes, he keeps his claws in. Yes, his little paws are furry and soft. It doesn't matter to me. I DO NOT LIKE IT!</b></p><p><b>And I'll tell you something even worse. Loki has begun to sleep on the bed with the pack every flufffing night! Even Mom doesn't like this because he sleeps ON her feet, but she says he's a cat and there is nothing we can do about it.</b></p><p><b>Nothing? </b></p><p><b>I'm Deuce, and we'll see about THAT!!!!</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, black Labrador Retriever, dog with a blog, cats and dogs, Loki, pack living, rural life, country lifestyle, a writer's life, KC Kendricks</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-11666793492517909262023-08-04T14:53:00.001-04:002023-09-16T15:17:51.833-04:00Porch time! <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHf_XCCzwVsGOs4t1mZYe32N9uqbRZ_jsVokzARsF3zQ661LFPPp6SvI_cVacZ6bJBYK7VKUlawIkxbSF8vHpm9A0lR4OSJxLyVaqBNMEAsWZS4zlt10tFEdxN3aHQqldq0-RFcgrXGnbM7bSibGftfTd4ZWQ7blKw-iWgXzZVXvmb4GSGLDIrCo1EtiB3/s3264/20230804_120809.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHf_XCCzwVsGOs4t1mZYe32N9uqbRZ_jsVokzARsF3zQ661LFPPp6SvI_cVacZ6bJBYK7VKUlawIkxbSF8vHpm9A0lR4OSJxLyVaqBNMEAsWZS4zlt10tFEdxN3aHQqldq0-RFcgrXGnbM7bSibGftfTd4ZWQ7blKw-iWgXzZVXvmb4GSGLDIrCo1EtiB3/s320/20230804_120809.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><b><br />Mom and Dad decided it was a cool enough day that they'd sit on the front porch for a little while. Right away I followed Mom out the door and took up a guard position. I like to keep an eye on the driveway in case UPS shows up with my Farmer's Dog shipment. Even when watching, I keep my ears back to listen to Mom. I'm smart that way.</b><p></p><p><b>Being a good dog, I waited patiently for Dad to join us. I thought about getting myself a bumble bee, but Mom told me no, so I didn't. It was a close-run thing because they were all over the roses! If one of them would have divebombed me, all bets would have been off! </b></p><p><b>My parents haven't been on the front porch too much this summer and I'm glad. It gets really hot out there during the day and waaaaay too buggy in the evening. But today was almost perfect.</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIvP07lo9jFypwn5B9n_lUzGyBOxA5OD7FmULj2CZ_Y1IzW89Wv6q-IqelT_gx2rVSodF7z7TM1MqPfHE5qwzOjV3aPKl-nEeYIL6eQqVWLtbFRCis5dzZvf3nL6Pw8NbfW0bnwe2G_ObrZfi8EFcGVBpPXHTuqGeJvI2pxSbi7y-nHcaTzytXpFJ_4-5/s3264/20230804_120951.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIvP07lo9jFypwn5B9n_lUzGyBOxA5OD7FmULj2CZ_Y1IzW89Wv6q-IqelT_gx2rVSodF7z7TM1MqPfHE5qwzOjV3aPKl-nEeYIL6eQqVWLtbFRCis5dzZvf3nL6Pw8NbfW0bnwe2G_ObrZfi8EFcGVBpPXHTuqGeJvI2pxSbi7y-nHcaTzytXpFJ_4-5/s320/20230804_120951.jpg" width="240" /></b></a></div><b>Mom and I chatted for a bit, and then she told me to go check on Dad. I was going to run around the house to the back door, but I quick found out I could look through the storm door. </b><p></p><p><b>Yep. There he was. He was just then going out the back door.</b></p><p><b>Mom said I was a handsome boy and she took a picture. </b></p><p><b>Gee, Mom. I though you knew I was a good-looking fellow a long time ago. </b></p><p><b>Anyway, we had a nice bit of porch time before Dad said he had things to do. Mom told me we could blog, but I told her to go ahead without me because I needed a nap. </b><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, black Labrador Retriever, country living, a dog's life, bumble bees, guard dogs, good dogs, Farmer's Dog dogfood, a writer's life</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-43543461025836051322023-07-17T14:14:00.001-04:002023-07-23T11:39:03.582-04:00In the garden with Mom<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXwYVeilG8u1hMug3HVzCPM4lIu9yiDqQ9osoXMWJASzj1YCNW13DGfY4f6Oowr-3nbxBQZ_sdXDFtx1rpTqcS__MYPFnbB9BCulfQ16RIoQkrbUQfcpZ_YPELRoF02uKlhUWKIi2qE1Tzi0eGS3RHSkephl95QkLiZx4IMXX--8u1HyBHpkpO_nMJByy/s3264/23_071723%20Deuce%20in%20garden%20(3).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXwYVeilG8u1hMug3HVzCPM4lIu9yiDqQ9osoXMWJASzj1YCNW13DGfY4f6Oowr-3nbxBQZ_sdXDFtx1rpTqcS__MYPFnbB9BCulfQ16RIoQkrbUQfcpZ_YPELRoF02uKlhUWKIi2qE1Tzi0eGS3RHSkephl95QkLiZx4IMXX--8u1HyBHpkpO_nMJByy/s320/23_071723%20Deuce%20in%20garden%20(3).jpg" width="240" /></a></div></div><b>Sometimes Mom worries me. She gets these notions to do something odd and all I can do is follow along and keep an eye on her. Take today, for example.</b><p></p><p><b>Mom checks her garden every day, and this morning she harvested some cherry tomatoes and a handful of green beans. That wasn't so bad. I get that it's people food. But then Mom sat in the lawn chair she keeps in the garden and talked to me about her plans for next year's garden. She says talking to me helps her think. </b></p><p><b>I do my best thinking when I'm not barking, but hey. Humans are strange. </b></p><p><b>Mom wants to do a few things differently in her garden next year. I don't care. She's not growing me any steak so it's not important to me. But since I'm a good dog, I listened while she talked. </b></p><p><b>I like Mom's voice so I guess it is kind of nice she talks to me, even if it's not about steak. </b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, black Labrador Retriever, country dogs, Labs, good dogs, rural living, country lifestyle, gardening. </span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-19636626347536160602023-07-07T17:08:00.002-04:002023-07-23T11:37:42.400-04:00I need a bigger pool!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilIIn_KMlvdf6Lu5Pg44D5Ao3o4eTKrDjf2afT2IQ15hgxAVnSactzjLIw9CeplsyPv2UF3JpjAJLe40SjlWAwsuR9O8VMU_8Xw5kCiQdNV5KceGnplOe-_xfwEZvf7w8Y7-BeQCCaW_FBIceEoRd1gT_WxEcMhS0f_mZZJRFNl4Pz7mA7Uvq42i7YOR1m/s3264/20230707_121015.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilIIn_KMlvdf6Lu5Pg44D5Ao3o4eTKrDjf2afT2IQ15hgxAVnSactzjLIw9CeplsyPv2UF3JpjAJLe40SjlWAwsuR9O8VMU_8Xw5kCiQdNV5KceGnplOe-_xfwEZvf7w8Y7-BeQCCaW_FBIceEoRd1gT_WxEcMhS0f_mZZJRFNl4Pz7mA7Uvq42i7YOR1m/s320/20230707_121015.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><b><br />When I was a little guy, <a href="https://deucesday.blogspot.com/2016/05/the-puppy-pool.html" target="_blank">I had a pool</a>. I loved it! It was perfect, and I always wondered what happened to it. Mom's been getting in her pool and she won't let me get in with her. I don't think that's fair. So I telepathically asked Mom what happened to my old pool - and she must have heard me! She found my old pool!</b><p></p><p><b>I must confess it's a bit of a disappointment. I remembered it as being a lot bigger. And deeper. I didn't know pools could shrink but this one sure did. I can barely get my toes wet!</b></p><p><b>Well, Mom and Dad discussed it and I may be getting a bigger pool. This is a good thing! What's not a good thing is that Mom thinks fifty bucks is a lot to spend on a pool for me and she might be correct. I mean, I really could decide I don't like the new pool. </b></p><p><b>But I need something <a href="https://deucesday.blogspot.com/2016/05/pool-time.html" target="_blank">bigger than my puppy pool</a>! I'm not really a puppy any longer! I'm all grown up! </b></p><p><b>I haven't heard Mom say what she's going to do about the situation. I sure hope it's a good surprise for little Deucie! </b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, black Labs, Labrador Retrievers, rural living, spoiled dogs, a writer's life, dog pools, wading pools for dogs, good dogs</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-86533603800383607252023-06-23T11:03:00.002-04:002023-07-23T11:36:18.087-04:00It's raining and I'm sooooo bored!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6n5ciG7yHWExEGw_JOZi0G_1qKNV2ou_zURszXLHCiyfiTeB-1PGsr3g-rltLxgcXHm79_D82-BZAn4IXg9bMKfrHFqvI53zWRQqNVv36n-x65ByGtAyGMRAjJUi9xFZvB5CNV7wKyWcltM_xOrTdv5lnvwMd-Mw_wjinlJ2DCj4JZcbKyT6LMDAYGPmT/s1211/happy%20dog%20face.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1211" data-original-width="1103" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6n5ciG7yHWExEGw_JOZi0G_1qKNV2ou_zURszXLHCiyfiTeB-1PGsr3g-rltLxgcXHm79_D82-BZAn4IXg9bMKfrHFqvI53zWRQqNVv36n-x65ByGtAyGMRAjJUi9xFZvB5CNV7wKyWcltM_xOrTdv5lnvwMd-Mw_wjinlJ2DCj4JZcbKyT6LMDAYGPmT/s320/happy%20dog%20face.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><b>Mom is wandering around the house saying, "rain, rain go away and come again some other day."</b><p></p><p><b>I feel ya Mom! This is day three of rain and this dog (me) is bored out of his little black skull. And what's worse is I took all three of my balls outside and Dad won't go get them. What gives, Dad? Don't you love little Deucie any longer? </b></p><p><b>There has to be mail down in the mailbox, but neither parent will walk me down to get it. Mom won't even put me in the car and drive down because she doesn't want my wet paws on the seat. My paws are my paws! It's not my fault! </b></p><p><b>And this morning I had to go outside to pee-pee all by myself! Mom didn't even come along and hold the umbrella over me. I do not like rain! </b></p><p><b>Mom is all happy because her garden is getting a good soaking and is the grass. It makes no sense to me. The grass is going to grow and she and Dad will have to mow a lot. Mom says the bees have been on the clover enough and it's time for them to head to the garden. </b></p><p><b>Yeah, I know I'm going in there with Mom now - not! </b></p><p><b>I guess I'll go take a nap on the bed because there is nothing else to do. A bored dog is not a happy dog, and that's me today. </b></p><p><b>Mom's right. Rain, rain, go away</b>!</p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Lab, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, rainy days, bored dogs, a writer's life, Labrador Retriever, dog with a blog, dog whining</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-13851455464040396032023-06-14T13:45:00.000-04:002023-06-14T13:45:50.886-04:00I'm not sure about this "garden" thing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4ObYUlw7_m1Nqn02IDTuwqMrJvL2QXKLnJofKDcgc3_239ywWWaW61PRVyifyUoEG5eHQ0_HFQCdfKhCOXuPswQcaG1F0Yta8j4HafuzMQu1NGQZzkmKGTsF8YiYHFmKxjjPeuUmTNLZ7YGk1Pt4juNjS8-naHIKPbpxfv7bJtEuVpsFMnuzxPTehA/s3264/23_061423%20garden%20tour%20(20).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4ObYUlw7_m1Nqn02IDTuwqMrJvL2QXKLnJofKDcgc3_239ywWWaW61PRVyifyUoEG5eHQ0_HFQCdfKhCOXuPswQcaG1F0Yta8j4HafuzMQu1NGQZzkmKGTsF8YiYHFmKxjjPeuUmTNLZ7YGk1Pt4juNjS8-naHIKPbpxfv7bJtEuVpsFMnuzxPTehA/s320/23_061423%20garden%20tour%20(20).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>It rained all day Monday, and then it rained again this morning - and Mom was happy about it. I wasn't, not at all. Rain means little Deucie - that's ME - doesn't get to go for a walk. Apparently what is good for the garden is not good for me. </b><p></p><p><b>And what is the big deal about the garden? I was out there with Mom not an hour ago and there is nothing in the garden for ME to eat. Nothing. Nada. Zippo. Mom offered me a sugar snap pea and it was foul! </b></p><p><b>Then, to top off that insult, Mom went on Twitter, said she'd found an odd tomato in the garden and posted a picture of ME!!!! </b></p><p><b>Is this Deuce abuse? It sort of feels like it. Why can't Mom and Dad grow me a cow? Steak comes from a cow and I like steak. How difficult can it be? No, Mom grows green plants that even Dad isn't fond of. We need to gang up on her. What the hell is Purslane, anyway? That stuff excites her. She breaks off leaves and eats them on the spot. It doesn't smell good to me. </b></p><p><b>I'm the Number One Dog around here, but you wouldn't know it by what growing in the garden. </b></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, gardening, rural living, black Labrador Retriever, country lifestyle, good dogs, Labs, sugar snap peas, Purslane, dog abuse</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-34054159981743374462023-05-31T19:42:00.002-04:002023-06-11T06:30:15.765-04:00 A long ride in my van<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGrIOyjrtmkPg7TglSj-sTQyXfLeKqsZv6q_hf0AA1vXe71W9qgA0F2y9dcE3PoAzejZN7L2ML6Tm512iJJznV_tnAF5FBbr3Q41fJLLEpX-gqLBKhPdmkwocOrlJaVm-caQr3j9KtpYcs1G1kuGUd0ilJ6sCiHukX5ItnQN2AjzU2TKJXwo0M42tHoQ/s3264/20220610_102847.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGrIOyjrtmkPg7TglSj-sTQyXfLeKqsZv6q_hf0AA1vXe71W9qgA0F2y9dcE3PoAzejZN7L2ML6Tm512iJJznV_tnAF5FBbr3Q41fJLLEpX-gqLBKhPdmkwocOrlJaVm-caQr3j9KtpYcs1G1kuGUd0ilJ6sCiHukX5ItnQN2AjzU2TKJXwo0M42tHoQ/s320/20220610_102847.jpg" width="240" /></a><b></b></div><b><br />I like it when Mom gets an idea! Well, to be fair, she had this idea a while ago, but she called the plant place today and they had a dwarf blueberry bush that she says is "just the ticket." Whatever that means. </b><p></p><p><b>Road trip! That's what it meant! </b></p><p><b>We loaded Dad in the van. I sat in the back and Mom drove. Our first stop was the car wash. Now that is sort of freaky, but Mom and Dad weren't scared so neither was little Deucie. I'm smart. I know when the parents aren't concerned, I don't have to be. It's an energy thing. </b></p><p><b>After the car wash, we went to the sub shop. Yum! Dad got a steamer sub and that a good thing for me. I like steamer sub. Mom got her usual ham and cheese. That's pretty good, too, but I don't get much of that because of the onions and hot peppers. </b></p><p><b>When we left the sub shop, we didn't head home. We went down to the nursery instead and Mom got a blueberry bush. She's happy but she told me I can never ever never pee-pee on this bush. Well, that's no fun at all, is it? </b></p><p><b>At least I got to go for a long ride. And we'll see just what I pee-pee on. Boy dog. That's my thing when I'm outside. Watch me.</b></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Lab retriever, car rides, a dog's life, rural living, dog car wash, a writer's life, Peach Sorbet blueberry, country lifestyle, gardening</span></i></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-91007585412167201852023-05-27T09:45:00.005-04:002023-06-11T06:28:32.474-04:00I'm a star! Mom made a new banner.<p><b> Mom made a new banner and made me a star! I don't know how or where she's going to use it, but I like it!</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2nMJ8WTsa-IT9juBbiMjC2AumLWkm8e0IN3CrHhLrgiRJUIi4seEMzXuREnPSv0XulgkYAU8XpSnJq0iB2Kooi0L8XDDweUeI5cEUH3iVwNMa0oSgems83P2fE-jw2uTGGJHLEMMo-wyAmOXUPXktLg5wYKAb68xpnI-Dgd5JmGhXDYwM5DMlHULew/s3500/banner_Deuce%20walking%20down%20a%20country%20road.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="3500" height="74" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2nMJ8WTsa-IT9juBbiMjC2AumLWkm8e0IN3CrHhLrgiRJUIi4seEMzXuREnPSv0XulgkYAU8XpSnJq0iB2Kooi0L8XDDweUeI5cEUH3iVwNMa0oSgems83P2fE-jw2uTGGJHLEMMo-wyAmOXUPXktLg5wYKAb68xpnI-Dgd5JmGhXDYwM5DMlHULew/w400-h74/banner_Deuce%20walking%20down%20a%20country%20road.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4558125177601344033.post-89535864175196773192023-05-26T09:49:00.002-04:002023-05-26T09:49:56.206-04:00I need a sidecar!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmoyEBnJwBGSoYtyqjTkcf7THRtTU2iueF6Q3MQwycqpdkLSYvlX3kW5WyIZWaClC3ht9Ui_YXetJVBGKCJeG8dZhBYc_FyIbnUs9vA0rpp6LiLi6slj2WAxKyXCe5oiz_PDe9wwwATw-jIFEGDpf_sdbl8EFmGEaqV5tka-OK5U4ZJ9pGcyJseVWew/s3264/23_050623%20Deuce%20looking%20up%20at%20tractor.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmoyEBnJwBGSoYtyqjTkcf7THRtTU2iueF6Q3MQwycqpdkLSYvlX3kW5WyIZWaClC3ht9Ui_YXetJVBGKCJeG8dZhBYc_FyIbnUs9vA0rpp6LiLi6slj2WAxKyXCe5oiz_PDe9wwwATw-jIFEGDpf_sdbl8EFmGEaqV5tka-OK5U4ZJ9pGcyJseVWew/s320/23_050623%20Deuce%20looking%20up%20at%20tractor.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><b><br />Sometimes being a dog feels like being a second-class citizen. Mom and Dad try to keep me happy and well-fed, but there are days that is not enough. Take for example those days one of the parents is working with the John Deere 1023. </b><p></p><div><b>I'm allowed to be outside most of the time when Mom and Dad are working. I know to stay out of the way of the tractor. I'm a smart dog and I learn stuff! But it would be sooooo much better if I could ride on the tractor, too!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>I love to go for rides! Riding is fun! When I ride along to places I have the back seat all to myself! And best of all, LOKI does NOT get to go along. Stupid cat. </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Look at that face! Don't tell me it doesn't make you feel guilty. I've cultivated that look for over seven years and it has served me well. </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>So here's my suggestion to the parents - get a sidecar for the tractor. I mean, come on! Dad's pretty smart. He can figure out how to make one. Mom's got deep pockets. She can fund it. Think of how little Deucie will feel when he can ride on the tractor. He'll be a very happy Deucie! </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>C'mon, folks. How difficult can it be to grant a good dog's wish? </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>***(Mom to Deuce: Nice try, baby dog, but that's not going to happen.)***</i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-small;">Deuce's Day, black Labrador Retriever, John Deere 1023, country dogs, rural living, a writer's life, a Lab's life, spoiled dogs, good dogs</span></i></div><div><br /></div>KC Kendrickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17710305809896296828noreply@blogger.com0