So lets continue!

Now the title say's it all. The poor little dog is terrorized about going outside. Yes, I said outside. You would think that a dog would just jump at the chance to go outside and spray the bushes, dig holes, roll around in the grass or what ever else a dog wants to do at that time. I mean, after all, none of us have the ability to think like a dog, even though I have been told that sometimes I am as dumb as some dogs. And please do not send me any letters about how smart your dog is or is not! After you read this, you then understand why the dog acts the way it does.

So, you are wondering what sort of dog this is. Well it is a Welsh Corgi. This is a dog that was breed for the fox hunting tradition in England. You have seen them around your area. The are

little dogs that are longish in body, to a size of about 18 to 26 inches, with little short legs and sharp little teeth and a longish snout. They were for going into the burrows of foxes and chasing them out so the "hunters" could have their sport. So that is the dogs description in a nut shell. Now this dog is the second of this type to live in that house. The house is a 30 year old suburban split -level with 8 levels and comes with an expansive front yard, and a much bigger back yard to boot. This is the back yard that I as a child spent many days playing with the dog, and many nights staring at the stars that would fill the heavens at night. Great times, times spent climbing trees in the back yard, and having a tree fort to stare at our "enemies" at and fire our dirt bombs and rocks at. A wonderful place in my days as a child. And you never see the days that have passed until you never have those days again. The reasons are due to our aging in our days, seeing that we no longer have the time to be a child, no longer to have the time to spend in the garden with the exception of maybe the nightly watering during the summer nights, and the other excuses that we all maintain as the reasons that we have become so synonymous with our life's daily excuses.

So, we continue with the story that you have so kind in reading to this point. Now the dog's name is Tory. And this dog can really put some sharp little teeth into your hand, and you will feel it. Tory can play with you for hours or with her toy's that range from simple rubber chew toy that may be in the shape of a parrot to the advanced one's that my father buy's through the mail order firms that barks at her when she picks it up.

And I have to tell you that there is another fun toy that I evened enjoyed to play with the dog. And this was the dog "cookie" jar that barks when you open it up and the little set of teeth comes a running! Do not get your fingers in the way of those teeth. You might lose a tip!

And now we return to the back yard for all of this. Now the back yard also includes a number of deer that come by for breakfast, lunch, a late afternoon snack, and of course at night. The deer have given birth to fawns in the bushes and eaten the tulips and the other ornamental plants. Now while this can be most annoying to my parents who have spent 30 years planting all sorts of plants, ivy, pacasander, and what ever else stuck my mothers fancy in the garden stores of the Philadelphia Main Line "Elite" suburbs. Places with such names as Albrecth's or Waterloo Gardens, and all of it planted by gardeners that jumped off of stake body trucks early in the morning and ran large walk-along gang mowers that distilled the smells of fresh cut grass into the air for you to sniff on warm spring or summer days. And as these young men were working, you would hear the sounds of the Irish and the Spanish who would converse about whatever it was that they would talk about during the day and the planting of the shrubs and whatever else there was to stick into the ground to make the grounds look all so much better. And I have to tell you that at my age, I do remember that the times of smelling the fragrant aromas of the flowers and the buzzing of these huge bumblebees who somehow reminded me of being the aircraft carriers of the flying insect world that would dance from flower to flower to gather up the sweetness of the day. And this was to never include the ripping sound of the chainsaws that were so evident along with the tree eaters with their whining sounds that would be sound distant in the neighborhood but still you could hear the groan of the teeth that chew the limbs to a chipped pulp in the end.

And this again brings us to the dog, again! After all the title of this little story is about the poor dog being terrorized by something that I have yet to tell you about. And we all know that you are waiting to hear more about Tory. So we will make sure that you hear some more things about Tory. Now Tory is as we said, a Welsh Corgi. And has been trapped in the house and never, never been off it's leash for years. Now Tory is about 7 years old right now and looks like some form of stuffed sausage that has legs. Still there are the teeth and there is nothing like the sound of the little thundering legs that run to you from the living room or the den to the top of the steps that lead down to the adult recreation room with the grand piano and wet bar. And in the calling of this little bag of teeth and dirty blonde fur, we reveled in the fact that we could play with her in a manner that made Tory happy, and helped us in our thoughts of the day. It was a brief vacation of time that was able to keep the demons of the day at bay for just a few minutes. And how those minutes would be passed. Pulling at her little paws, trying to keep your fingers out of her mouth, tugging at the waves of skin that were there to tug upon and moving your hands fast around her body and watching her head move side to side trying to grab your fingers as you try to beat the supersonic set of teeth that will bite you in playfulness of the time.

And Tory will let you know when you have crossed the line! And that takes us to the next set of thoughts.......

So back to the next thought of the dog and why Tory feels so terrorized. Now this little dog as we told you, loves to run around and is filled with life. And all of that life is not the greatest to have around when your parents are elderly. And in particular, we have my father who is the one who has to walk this dog in all sorts of weather and in an area that is hilly and on a slope. Now we have the problem of being a little dog that comes from the factory with a little bladder. And that can spell big trouble if it is raining, snowing or whatever else. But it also get my father out of the house and gives him a little peace to have in a house that is just filled at times with familial hell. And that includes living with 2 females, my mother and my sister who seems to be a carbon copy in my opinion of my mother. God save the man who marries my sister, and that day is coming soon. And we will describe that later in another story for you to deal with.

Back to the dog. Now Tory, as we told you, has to be walked because my mother will not let this dog off the leash to run and play. And it is not that we live in an area that is filled with traffic. The house is in an area that is considered suburban remote. So the poor dog does not get to run and chase squirrels, or the other woodland creatures that inhabit the area. It's not that the dog has any chance to chase anything and win the race, it just likes to run at times. I might add that I do not like to run, and a lot of people will tell you that. That includes going after the dog.

So this poor little dog, who I am sure has had any number of dreams that were based in running in the grass, chasing squirrels, and going after imaginary shadows that only can been seen from the from perspective of having 4 inch legs, is really something to watch. You could never be as this free little animal who has been unfortunately held in a very comfortable, pretty prison and not allowed to run on their little legs to be free, even if for a few moments in time. That is with the exception of being with me at times when I would come and visit the house. Now the dog and I had a certain signal that we would send to each other. I hear you laughing about this! I would make a grrrr type noise and she would make a huhhuh noise and that would be the signal to play. Now we would play at the top of the steps that would lead as I said to the adult recreation room. And we would be able to do all of that with such joy. So simple, and yet so fulfilling, I would think for the two of us. And in all of this playfulness, we come to the part that makes it seem so bad for poor little Tory.

And by this we mean, that the poor dog is now a prisoner of the latest in animal control technology. This we mean is the underground radio system that works with an electro-shock collar that the dog wears. You may have seen such collars as being used for hunting dogs that stops them from barking. But now, thanks to I am sure advanced military technology, we have those "invisible fences " to keep you pets in a specified area of your yard. No straying at all. After all, if you were to get an electrical shock in your neck, you would not stray either. In fact, the cops who are in our opinion not that bright in the first place are using this same technology on prisoners to keep them in check. We do not believe in this, but that is another story to tell you. So back to the show. The dog who once chased the deer and the squirrels around the yard will not even leave the house without being dragged out of the house. You have to really pull at the dog to get her to even get out the door in any manner. And why, well because the dog is now terrorized about going to the "edge" of the area. Zapppppp! And you would just want to pee all over the rugs in defiance to the powers that be.

So that is the story in a nut shell of the dog being terrorized. And in the next chapter of life, we might cover the Cops and how rotten they are, Undertakers and the ways that they go after you, the stupidity of a telephone ringer called Jingle Ring and what ever else strikes our fancy as being so stupid or inhuman, that it requires that you take a stand or just get mad and get rid of the bastards.

Good Night Bunny! DITYTILYT?