My brother, the late great Angus Fala, loved his headwear. Aunt Judy first introduced Angus to headwear, and he took to it quite eagerly. As you see below here in the following slide show with just 3 of the many various headwears that Angus enjoyed.
In late 2014, Aunt Judy gave Angus a helmet, with his rank emblazoned on the front – and Angus called the helmet his Polymer Based Attack Repellent Cranium Cover, or PBARCC for short (that would be pronounced “Pee-Bark”). Perhaps one of his favorite pictures was this one, taken shortly before Angus passed on.
After Angus passed on to the Rainbow Bridge, the gauntlet for wearing headwear passed to me. At first I was hesitant, but then Angus spoke to me in a dream, and told me it was my job now, the torch had been passed. Overnight I became an excellent headwear wearer. I got so good at it that when I travel, people take pictures of me.
I have become an advocate of headwear. Mr.Bear has become pretty good at it…
I even convinced the Commander, Rascal B. Dascal, a copperhead killing old guard Scottie, about the joys of headwearing, as Commander Dascal demonstrates here….
Doesn’t the commander look just fabulous?
One big problem though. This new guy at the house, George Kerby…I’m not so sure about this boy. We introduced him to the joys of headwear last night…I don’t think he gets it, do you?
My hoomans are Scottie people, with one caveat. Mama does love Golden Retrievers, and we’ve had three. Mama’s best friend, Deb, the author, on the other hand, is an Irish Setter person. I believe she has had 5 of them. Right now she has two – Conner, and Jamie.
Mama has been friends with Deb for 25 years – and me and my late great brother Angus, have been friends with her Irish Setters too. And I got plenty of pictures to prove it..
Here is Angus, in 2009, romping with Conner in the backyard of Deb’s House….
Here I am late last month, stopping at the Irish Setter’s house on my way to Oklahoma:
See -we got along well. That is we got along well, BG. Before George.
So Deb and her daughter, Sarah, were going to come and visit us last weekend and stay several days. Catman said “why don’t you bring your Irish Setters, Conner and Jamie? George would love to see them!”
Deb said,”Are you sure?”
Catman: “Sure, they will get around great. George just a little puppy!”
Stoopid stoopid Catman.
As soon at the Irish Setters entered the Ainsley Institute, they were hounded, relentlessly, by one George Kerby.
George would jump on them, try to grab their skirts, their lips, and try to grab their….well, I don’t think I can say what he tried to grab on a family oriented blog. See the full grown adult Irish Setter running away from the 12 pound puppy.
We even made a video of George playing, while the Setters are trying to run for their lives:
So they came here on Friday, by Saturday night, the Irish Setters had packed their bags and were ready to go home. So Catman, since he was the responsible party in the first place, offered to drive them 2 hours to Springfield, Illinois, about half way to their house, where the Irish Setter’s Daddy met him and took them on home. And Conner & Jamie were happy, HAPPY, to leave. I know this for a fact, because I accompanied them on their farewell trip, trying to apologize on behalf of Golden brother.
So on behalf of me, Mama, Lily and Herman the cats, Catman, and Mr. Bear – we apologize, Conner & Jaimie, for the actions of my demon brother. Maybe you can come visit us again someday – when George is grown up, and we have hired a priest to do an exorcism on him or sumthing.
Again, sorry guys – but not all is lost…I did get one good picture out of the visit – me, George, Conner and Jamie.
First, notice how I am standing at attention waiting til the female staffer and 2 distinguished guests are about to enter the side portal of the Ainsley Institure.
Then notice how George Kerby, with the attention span of a juvenile misquitoe, and a brain to match, is incapable of my stoic, respectful, military discipline. So he goes off camera to do whatever it is he does. Probably eating shoes and tasting electrical outlets.
Then the hoomans arrives. I give them a respectful dignified Scottie greeting, as is taught to young scotties in Scottie skool.
Then you see George Kerby come on screen, barreling in and acting like the hoomans just invented crust less bread or something. Give it a rest George! They just went to chicago for the day in an exchange of money for entertainment and meals. Totally uncalled for and completely over the top on George’s part.
Well, I’m a bit perturbed by him taking the attention off where it belongs – me. And then the tail sniffing by George of me just is too much. You see the result.
George’s thespian skills here are ridiculously overblown. If I wanted to hurt him I would have, and he would be in a cone this morning. He isn’t hurt. Just a little old fashioned, and richly deserved, zone of hostility.
So there you go – I hope you found my Scottie viewpoint of this video enlightening and educational.
Tired of playing Cops and Robbers with your friends? Don’t want to be guilty of cultural appropriation by playing Cowboys and Indians????
Well, we here at Angus Fala Worldwide Enterprises have invented a new game just for you!
We call it Trump Supporter Versus Anti-Trump Activist!
Watching all the coverage on CNN and you want to be in on the action too? But Mama won’t let you go?
Well, we have tne next best thing – Trump Versus Anti Trump! Available now at your favorite on-line toy retailer or your closest toy department of a mass-market merchandiser!
You can pretend you are right there in the action, with the cameras rolling! Your friend can call you a Racist Bully, and you can call your friend an Anti-American Commie, and let the fun begin!
Here I am playing an Anti-Trump Activist, and George Kerby is playing a Trump Supporter!
Hurry, and buy now! My game is just flying off the shelf as fast as a billionaire in Trump One!
And coming soon, my new version, Trump Versus Anti-Trump 2.0. It’s a multiplayer game, in which two of you can wrestle like you are on the auditorium floor, and your other friends can boo and cheer, and your Mama can yell into a microphone “Get Em Out of Here, Punch them in the Face!”
Today marked the first week of George Kerby, the Golden Retriever, living with me at the Ainsley Institute. Today also marked his 8 week birthday.
Slide show above shows some of the highlights of the week. Thursday, we took him to the vet, and Dr. Pokey pronounced George in good health – which is quite the relief. Since Cary Grant, the Golden we got in November, died after only 15 days here of a rare and very severe heart ailment, we were quite worried about George, especially since he came from the same breeder. Fortunately, though, the Heart of George was good – nary a murmur.
Saturday, as you see above, we took a family pic of me, George and Mr. Bear. Could not get George to stand still. We had the idea of taking a pic every week to monitor his growth. At the vet Thursday George was 8.3 pounds. Yesterday, George was 9.5 pounds. I did some research – and in another month, George should be bigger than me, just over 20 pounds. And a month after that, George should be around 35 pounds. He is getting big fast and he has already left that cute as a button little puppy stage and started to enter the all legs and paws gawky stage.
George doesn’t have all his shots, so we are being careful about where he goes. But we did have my cousin Juno, an Australian Shepherd, come to play with George. You see in the slideshow a picture of George, me, Juno, my hooman cousing Summer, and her best friend Caitlin at the Ainsley Institute. And also Mr. Bear tried to get in the picture as well.
Remember last week I said George is going to be a lot mellower than Cary Grant was? Well, I was wrong. George has turned out to be quite the high energy troublemaker. Looking back, I guess Cary was indeed dying the whole time he was here. Cary was a lot sweeter and mellower and slept more – probably the poor guy just didn’t ever feel right. Word on the street, though, is Cary is feeling great now as the dessert chef at my brother Angus Fala’s Boiled Egg and Ice Cream Parlor at the Rainbow Bridge. Though George is a “replacement” Golden from Cary’s breeder, no one can replace Cary. No one.
So how am I getting along with George? Well, for the first few days I wanted nothing to do with George. As you can see here, from a video over the weekend, my Zone of Hostility, which I learned from my brother Angus, is implemented and performing quite nicely.
However, a break through last night – I did play with George for a bit. But then I was done, and he still wanted to play, but I let him know with a sharp growl that play time was officially over. He was confused, but it’s great to keep him guessing.
Well, March 2nd was an eventful day – the day the staff adopted a new dog to help me at the Ainsley Institute.
Remember Cary Grant, the Golden that came on board back on November 13th of last year? And then died 15 days later, because of a rare heart condition?
I hope you remember, cause we sure do. Anyway, the breeder in Wisconsin said we could have another dog – and one was available yesterday. So Mama and Catman took me for an early morning check-in at the Aunt Judy Inn, and Catman drove Mama up to pick up the new pup.
They had the pick of the 3 boys, and picked this guy above. The naming was quite contentious. I wanted him named Charles Boolean, the inventor of Boolean Logic, which paved the way for the information age. Catman wanted him to be named Rufus T. Johnson. Who is Rufus T. Johnson? I have no idea, he just wanted to call a dog Rufus. The cats wanted him named Meow. Mr. Bear wanted him named either “Make America Great – Again” or “Wall Street is too Yuge.”
Mama wanted to name him for a Cary Grant character, cause Cary Grant is her favorite actor. So she wanted to name him George Kerby, a character Cary Grant played in his 1937 movie, “Topper.”
Mama got her way. Just like she got her way when she named Cary Grant, named me Ainsley McKenna, and named Angus Angus Fala. Above you see Mama with George Kerby on the way home.
So, they got back last night about 6 pm, and picked me up at the Aunt Judy Inn – this is me, sizing up the new guy, with Aunt Judy, and Uncle bob in the background.
I tell ya what – even though he is from the same breeder, he isn’t the same dog as Cary Grant. George Kerby is much mellower, and sleeps a lot more than Cary did. Cary would never be held like this. Here Kerby is last night at the Aunt Judy Inn.
Anyway, we went back home, and before I allowed him to be loose, I had to show him a few things. I wanted to show him some of the guys he is following – to let him know he has big paws to fill….
First, I had to show him the late great Cary Grant, gone way too soon.
Then the cats, Lily in the left, and Herman in the right, wanted to meet George Kerby.
And finally, time to pay homage to the late great Angus Fala. Look and learn, little pup.
Then it was time to let him loose and explore his surroundings. The first thing he tried to do was to replace the drapes.
First night went amazingly well though. I slept downstairs on the sofa, and George Kerby slept in his cage upstairs. At first he was a bit rambunctious:
But he settled down and slept after only about 15 minutes of whining, howling and barking. Much quicker than Cary Grant’s first night….that took over 90 minutes for Cary to settle down back in November. But like I said before, George Kerby is a lot more mellower than Cary.
Cary was an excellent pup – smart as a whip. We still miss him. But one thing we don’t want is Cary’s heart problem, so first thing this morning, staff took George Kerby to our Dr. Pokey and have him checked out. Dr. Pokey spent a long time poking at his hips, cause Goldens have a tendency to have hip dysplasia. Kerby’s hips are good. Then she spent a long time, and I mean a loooooooooong time, listening to his heart. Well, good news – Dr. Pokey heard nothing abnormal with George Kerby’s heart. Excellent news indeed. Here is George Kerby celebrating after he got home today.
Well, that’s about it for George Kerby’s first 24 hours.
Went on a trip this past weekend. Went to visit my Hooman sister, who lives in a suburb of Oklahoma City. And this is my photo journal of my trip….
So we packed up the Scottiemobile and headed down on our 14 hour trip to Okahoma to meet the Oklahomies.
On the way, we stopped and saw Mama’s best friend in the world, Deb. Deb is a published author – and a best selling author too. She has written many books, but one book, “Beyond Forever,” has me and my late great brother Angus as her inspiration for dog characters.
This from the book describes the character Angus:
“What Angus lacked in size he made up for in attitude.”
It’s a Historical Romance – so Angus is a terrier in the early 1800’s. I make an appearance in present day, here’s my section in the book:
“Angus reminded Julia of her Aunt Kim’s Scottish terrier, Ainsley”
Pretty neat, huh? If you wanna read it for yourself, you can pick it up on kindle – here’s the link:
Make sure you get the Kindle Version – Deb reworked her paperback, which she wrote in the 1990’s, and added me and Angus as characters. We’re not in the paperback version. (of course, both books are most excellent, so maybe you should just buy them both!).
Anyway, Ms. Deb has always had Irish Setters, and I visited with my old friends, Conner and Jamie. Eventually, I gotta all Scottie on them, and tried to fight with Jamie (Jamie and Conner are both too way good matured to fight me back though.) Anyway, after I started growling and snapping and showing my teeth, Mama decided it was time for us to bid adieu.
Anyway, we continued on to Oklahoma. We had a late lunch at Fort Leonard Wood, a town in Missiouri outside an Army base (Military Police are trained there, by the way), and I waited outside while Mama got us grilled cheese sandwiches at Panera Bread. I was hungry, and it smelled good.
Then we traveled on. We noticed and commented that when we got to Oklahoma, there were signs every few miles that said “Fire Hazard – Don’t Drive Thru Smoke.” Why am I mentioning that? Well, as Ms. Deb tells me, that’s foreshadowing what’s to come later. Though I guess I shouldn’t really tell you it’s a foreshadow, huh?
So, we arrived at Hooman Sis’s Apartment in Beautiful Downtown Edmond Oklahoma about 8 pm. Plenty of time for me to get reacquainted with her cats. Diablo Dos is the cat on the left hand side in the picture above, and Diablo Uno is the cat I had all packed and ready to ship out in the picture on the right hand side. Sis let her out though, darn it.
Also met Hooman Sis’s boyfriend, Ross. He is a nice guy – likes me too. I jumped in his lap, so he has the Official Scottie Seal of Approval.
Got up bright and early, and since Hooman Sis apartment had only 2 bathrooms, and 3 hoomans, two cats, and me, I had to wait my turn to get ready.
So Saturday morning, off to Tulsa! At Tulsa, met a lot of good friends at the dog park. Met Mr. Gary, who is a volunteer at Oklahoma Westie Rescue, and he is a saint of a hooman.
Also, met Rosie – met her before 2 years ago when I visited with my brother Angus.
Also, I got to meet up with McDuff, being held by Susan, and me, being held by my hooman sis.
The dog park was PACKED! But I worked the gate, letting dogs I approved in, and letting dogs that I didn’t approve in too. Hooman sis, who used to live in Tulsa, met up with some of her good fellow Oklahomie friends at the dog park.
We stayed about 2 hours, and then had the requisite Scottie Group picture shoot.
Wow, what a day. We were last of our group to leave the dog park, but it was fun, and thanks to everyone for making it a memorable day.
Drove back to Oklahomie City, and saw more signs about “Fire Hazard, don’t drive through smoke.” I got back in time to sit outside Sis’s outside deck, and pull some late night sentry duty.
Sunday was a recovery day. I did some morning stake out duty and caught my sister trying to come in with some food…
But the bad thing about Sunday was – I RAN OUT OF FOOD! So hoomans ran out to Petco (didn’t take me!), and couldn’t find my normal brand – Holistic Select. So they bought me Blue Buffalo – which is quite tasty. If you folks at Blue Buffalo would like to hire me as your Celebrity Spokescottie, have your people get in touch with my agent, Mr. Bear. I do know a thing or two about product placement.
So now it was Monday, and time to go home. On the way home, on I-44, passed again several signs that said “Fire Hazard: Do Not Drive Through Smoke.” Shortly after the first toll booth, it looked a little foggy all of a sudden. Sniff Sniff…what’s that? SMOKE! So, we were driving through smoke! Just what you aren’t supposed to do, Catman! I’m a Scottie, and I could read the signs you shouldn’t do that. And let me tell you what – it was scary! About 3 miles of smoke, but in all fairness to Catman, other cars were driving through it too, though it was really really really thick, as bad as an Illinois Blizzard. No sooner had we gotten through it then we saw the Police rushing to the scene with sirens and lights blaring, and we learned later that just after we made it through, they shut down the interstate.
I hope no one got in a wreck.
After all that, the trip home was uneventful. Stopped at Panera Bread again in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, and after that it was time to surf on back home.
Got home about 6 pm – and boy, was I tired. Still Recovering.
Anyway, it was a good trip. I want to thank the staff, Mr. Bear, Hooman Sis, Ross, Debra Dier, Conner and Jamie for being good sports about me trying to fight them and all, and my dog park buddies – Jonesy & Bonnie, McDuff, Cagney, Piper, Indy & Lucy, Hurley, Rosie, Bourne, Stu, and Becca and Crash. And their staff. I don’t thank Diablo Uno or Dos though. They pure evil.
Tomorrow is another day – and a real big day too. New Golden Pup supposed to arrive.
I have a small parcel of land that is mine and mine alone. It is probably about 7000 square feet, and enclosed in a fence.
This land is not the bank’s, it’s not Barack Obama’s, not Donald Trump’s, not Vladimir Putin’s, not ISIS’s, not yours, not your dog’s – it’s mine. It’s called the backyard.
As a puppy, while brother Angus would play in there and mug for the camera, I took it upon myself to guard and protect it.
I got a million photos like this. Angus in the foreground, barking or playing or having a ball in his mouth, and in the background, there will be me, on the fence line. In good weather and in bad.
So now that I have set the background, let me tell you a little story about yesterday.
Mama let me outside, about oh nine hundred, for the 2nd time yesterday, and she settled down in her recliner with a diet coke, and then heard me barking (aka acoustic salvo launching).
In itself, my firing acoustic salvos at the yard is not unusual. It’s what I do. I’m protective about 2 things in this world. First is the car, when I am in it alone. I’m gonna defend it. If staff is in the car, not so much. They can defend it for themselves. The second thing is my backyard. And I will defend it if staff it out there or not. I’m always watching – alert. Looking for threats to the fenceline.
Anyway, where was I in my story? Oh yes, barking. So Mama thought, “Do I need to get up?” Not unless Ainsley doesn’t stop soon. Then she heard a terrible ruckus. Acoustic Salvos being fired at a rapid more frantic rate, and growling and all sorts of commotion. So this time, she decides, i gotta get up now and see what is going on.
So she goes to the backdoor, opens it, and there I am, at the fence line, and just outside the fence is a woman carrying away a little dustmop of a dog, glaring at me! The stranger walks back to the sidewalk, and then puts little dustmop dog on the sidewalk, and walks away.
Now, questions for the glaring lady:
First, why did you walk to the fenceline? It’s a good 20-30 feet from the sidewalk to my fence. Nobody gets to visit unless you are on the guest list. And let me see – I don’t see don’t see your name, and I don’t see Dustmop’s name either. I don’t even see Paul McCartney’s name (which is the only thing I have in common with Tyga, I suppose) In fact, yesterday’s invited guest list was empty. Nobody was on it. So why did you think it was a wonderful idea to walk up to my fence?
Second, in what point during my acoustic salvo firing did you think I was saying, “hey, I like you, come up and see me?” I mean, a dog with a mouth like a German Shepherd and huge outsized teeth doesn’t seem that friendly, I wouldn’t think. And I am a terrier, right? I look like a Scottie, the AKC says I am a Scottie. So whadaya know, I am a Scottish Terrier. Not a Golden…not a Lhasa Apso, not a stoopid friendly beagle…I am a Terrier. Do I look approachable to you??? Maybe one of my acoustic salvos misfired, and instead of saying what I intended for it to convey, which was “Get the Hell Away from my Yard,” perhaps it said “Hey, come on down.” If it did say that, please let me know. I will need to call Scottish Terrier Acoustic Salvo Technical Support and ask them what the problem is with my acoustic salvos.
Third question – why you glaring at me? Why don’t you take a little mirror out of your purse, and glare at the reflection. Cause the only one here doing what they are NOT supposed to be doing was you. You Maroon!
I had an encounter with a Husky yesterday, and I am sad to say I didn’t cover our breed with glory.
Let me back up a bit – to about 3 pm yesterday. Catman (the male staffer at the Ainsley Institute – we call him Catman because a few years ago he was overheard by Angus telling Mama that he would prefer having just cats – cause “they are friendlier than Scotties and a lot less trouble”) took me to the Dog Park. Ever since I beat up that Pitbull late last year, he looked carefully at the dogs at the dog park. There were about 4 dogs in there…all bigger, with one Husky. Catman thought we might should leave – but I saw we were at the dog park and badly wanted to go in. So, he said ok, I’m not sure about this, but we will walk to the gate and see how they act.
Well, at the gate they all seemed ok. No growling. All of the dogs were bigger than me, of course. Besides the Husky there was a lab, and a couple of other mutty looking dogs. So I go in.
We were in there about 2 or 3 minutes, no trouble, when 2 of the dogs left. Then it was just me, the Husky, and the Lab. Then the Lab’s hooman decided to pet the Husky.
Let me digress a moment here. Hoomans! The Dog Park isn’t about you, if it was it would be the HOOMAN PARK! You should really leave us alone, don’t touch us. That adds an element of jealousy and emotions in there that messes the whole dynamic up!
So anyway, what do you think happened? Anybody? What you say over there? That everyone got along famously, and the Lab and Husky became best friends? WRONG! Sit in the corner and shut up!
No, the Lab of course, growled at the Husky, the Husky, cause the Husky ain’t a golden retriever, growled back, and a scuffle ensued. I was about 50 feet away, but I tried to charge right in there and get in the middle of it.
So now, the Lab left. Just me and the Husky.
Let me describe the Husky for you. He was, as Bernie Sanders would describe, YUGE! At least 100 pounds – a very big husky. With those diabolical soulless blue eyes that Huskies have. You look in there, and you realize you can see Satan in there. And worse yet, about 2 years old. The frisky, I wanna irritate you, age.
So now that it was just me and him…what did he do? He bounded over to me. Of course, I see a 100 pound devil dog running to me, I growl. What does he do…growl back. I’m right by Catman now, trying to use him as tactical cover – and I don’t know why I did what I did next.
I JUMPED ON CATMAN TO HAVE HIM PICK ME UP AND KEEP ME SAFE!
Yes, I know. I’m quite aware of Scottie Military Code and Rule 17-D – never rely on a hooman to keep us safe. I don’t know what I was thinking. I panicked.
Anyway – we immediately left. The Husky maintained control of the battlefield.
I was hoping it could be my little secret – just me and Catman would know. But I forgot that evil Husky wouldn’t keep a secret.
Last night I heard thunder. I know what that was.
It wasn’t a stream of electrons, heated to 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit, which as it cools produces a resonating tube of partial vacuum surrounding the lightning’s path, generating a sound we call thunder.
No -it wasn’t that at all. I’m a scientist, I know these things.
No, the Thunder I heard was Angus Fala throwing chairs around at his Boiled Egg & Ice Cream Parlor up at the Rainbow Bridge.
I would recognize my brother Angus’s tantrums anywhere. Even from Earth while he is up there at the Bridge.
Angus knows what happened.
And if he knows, Scottie HQ is sure to know soon.
So I am pretty depressed today – afraid of the ramifications for my career as a Scottie. Here is a picture of me – alone with my thoughts this morning. This could be bad. Yuge.