Tucker the Mooing Dog
Last night a yellow lab retriever came up to me to be petted. He was a really nice dog, very friendly and playful. I spotted a tennis ball with the telltale signs of dog drool and months of dirt collected on it and said to him in a very commanding voice, "Give me that ball! I want that ball!" He immediately pounced on it, spinning back around to me and half-offering it. The game was to try to pull it out of his mouth - I'm sure you're familiar with it. As I grabbed the ball and shook it, and his mouth and his head back and forth, saying, "This...Is...My...Ball...Give...Me...This...Ball," he responded with a very low, deep howling-type noise, muffled by the tennis ball.
"Tucker," his owner said. "You be quiet now."
"Did he just howl?" I asked.
"He moos."
"He what?"
"Moos. There's a story behind it."
Apparently, Tucker was raised in a yard next to cattle and was never really socialized with any other dogs. As a result, he doesn't bark. He moos. Convincingly.
"He runs like 'em, too," she added. "You know how cows'll kick their back legs up while they run? He does that. But he's a good boy."
Lots of people in town know Tucker for his mooing and often try to get him riled up so he'll do it for them. I'm sure my sister could spend an entire day teasing him into a repeated, bellowing, low accompanied by her own snickering. A duet of sorts. She's all about that.
I'm Halfway through Tennessee, and the hills have picked up in intensity. Yesterday I went up a 6- or 7-mile incline, breaking yet another spoke in the process. I think it's time to move that wheel to the front and buy another for the rear. So off I go to Knoxville, 120 miles away, on another wobbly wheel.
"Tucker," his owner said. "You be quiet now."
"Did he just howl?" I asked.
"He moos."
"He what?"
"Moos. There's a story behind it."
Apparently, Tucker was raised in a yard next to cattle and was never really socialized with any other dogs. As a result, he doesn't bark. He moos. Convincingly.
"He runs like 'em, too," she added. "You know how cows'll kick their back legs up while they run? He does that. But he's a good boy."
Lots of people in town know Tucker for his mooing and often try to get him riled up so he'll do it for them. I'm sure my sister could spend an entire day teasing him into a repeated, bellowing, low accompanied by her own snickering. A duet of sorts. She's all about that.
I'm Halfway through Tennessee, and the hills have picked up in intensity. Yesterday I went up a 6- or 7-mile incline, breaking yet another spoke in the process. I think it's time to move that wheel to the front and buy another for the rear. So off I go to Knoxville, 120 miles away, on another wobbly wheel.