Neanderpundit

You didn’t even know you wanted it before this very moment, but you want The Book of Barkley, by our dear friend Brigid. Here is an Amazon link if you’re so inclined.

Now, for the book. Let me first call to mind a somewhat similar tome written by John Grogan called ‘Marley and Me”

I read that book years ago, and I cannot imagine a more ruthlessly ignorant and asinine individual, and the way he treats his dog make me want to hunt him down and put a fully charged bark collar on his nutsack and throw him in a kennel of angry pit bulls.

The Book of Barkley is every thing Marley and Me is not- a wonderfully written story of a pair of huge hearts meeting and sharing their lives for the time allotted them by the Creator. if you ever wanted to know how to properly be the steward of a dog’s life, read this.

I have had the incredible privilege of knowing the lady and the dog. I have laid my hand on Barkley’s ribs and felt the huge heart beating inside, watched the little dust devils stirred up by his energetic tail, felt his rough tongue on my face.

You owe it to yourself to have a copy of this book. You owe it to yourself because when you’ve had one of those black days and the world seems determined to jam it up your ass and break it off, close the door and open this book and read for a while. Sometimes you just need a reminder that yes, decent people do exist, and life is worth sticking it out for.

Other people have IDPA targets, or Dirty Birds, or Shoot-c.

We do not. Continue Reading »

is to rake grass. Hell, raking of any kind just torques me off. So I’m very careful when I can be to cut grass early and often; it’s much easier to drive the tractor around several times a week than it is to rake.

But on vacation, I didn’t have the ability. And none of my neighbors have much in the way of equipment. So I mowed yesterday, and the clumps of dead grass took five heaping wheelbarrows to get back to the garden.

In somewhat related news, Barber Joe has been forbidden from mowing his lawn. Seems he was getting ready to mow, and the lever didn’t start the blades. So he turns off the mower and gets down on the ground to look underneath the frame; sure enough, a cotter pin has sheared. So he’s trying to get it out to replace it and the “WHOLE GODDANED NEIGHBORHOOD” (His words) come running over yelling “JOE!!! JOE!!!!” thinking he’s had a grabber and fallen off the mower.

His wife (Again, Joe’s words) says “Goddammit Joe! No more goddamned lawn! You’re gonna sell that goddamned mower and I’m gonna get someone to mow the goddamned lawn before you give ME a goddamned heart attack”

Joe, like me, fails to see the issue. He has(Had) a riding mower so it wasn’t like he was pushing an old reel.

Still. Joe says one of his customers runs a lawn service, and he comes and mows Joe’s lawn for $25 a week. So Joe put me in touch with Jesus. That’s HaySoos, not the other one- and I’m gonna call him and ask if he’ll mow my backyard. And see if he runs screaming away like everyone else. If he does I’m gonna see if I can find an old bent ash snath and scythe and mow like the old man did. Have to be safer than pushing a damned mower. Plus grim reaper.