The Hound of the Williams

[lizwilliams]

Tim Burton's SLEEPY HOLLOW was on the box last night and I couldn't be bothered to do anything else despite having seen it three times before, so we watched it.

Our viewing pleasure was somewhat impaired, however, because when the headless horseman appeared, the Rottweiler suddenly made a violent incursion into the living room. She doesn't normally come in the room in winter, because she's afraid of the fire, but this obviously took precedence over her personal fears.

"GNURRRGGH!" she roared, launching herself at the TV. Then she howled until the horseman disappeared, but she remained vigilant, and every time he came on, she protected us. I wanted to see what she'd do when she found out it was Christopher Walken all along, but no difference, she didn't like him either.

Then she trundled off to bed with the air of a job well done - I suppose if I'd saved my family from a decapitating menace from Hell, I might feel the same way. The Alsatian, who did not share in this, sat looking bewildered, but then that's his default mode. The cat, who was on my lap, treated the whole affair with characteristic hauteur ('What is that great oaf doing now?')

The Rottweiler hasn't behaved like this since her last great hate - Xena, Warrior Princess. It's reassuring to know that if we ever get some kind of supernatural threat, which is quite possible round here given the amount of legends about headless ladies, spectral shapes and lunatic black dogs (oh no, wait, that's ours), Tara will be well up for it.

Mind you, if that Lucy Lawless ever shows her face around here, she'll be in big trouble.

Comments

[autopope.livejournal.com]

Ah, pets of extreme stupidity™.

Mafdet is a crack whore for Whiskas Dentabits cat treats. She will sit up and beg for them. She will chase her own tail for them. They live in a tub on my desk and she gets two a day and luckily the training her previous owner instilled in her about not jumping on chairs to get on top of the table is still holding, because otherwise I would come home one day to find a perfectly spherical cat.

The problem with this is that I'm on medication that is of vaguely the same shape and size as The Cat Food of the Gods. And I just know that one of these days I'm accidentally going to drop a tablet and Mafdet is going to be in there like a tabby-coloured bolt of lightning, followed by an emergency trip to the vet for stomach pumping.

[mevennen.livejournal.com]

Oh no! I know the feeling. The dog's just been eating Something, and she gave me that rolling eyed guilty look that they do. I still don't know what it was but I think she hoiked it out of the bin.

[hoosier-red.livejournal.com]

We don't have any television-related incursions, but JJ is known around here as the Great Black Sock Hunter. When we come home after a long day at work, we will often find one or two socks scattered about the place, with a satisfied cat standing (well, sitting, really) guard over them. Considering his crack-like addiction to yarn, I think he realizes that socks are made from yarn (possibly reinforced by seeing me knit socks), and thus it is his job to subdue, cathandle and otherwise tree the ape paw-shaped conglomeration of yarn before it can break free and create havoc throughout the apartment. Also, he gets to gnaw on them, which he likes.

[mevennen.livejournal.com]

A friend of mine had a sock stolen off the washing line by a neighbourhood cat, which was known for nicking things - and it re-distributed them like some kind of misguided feline Robin Hood. Who knows why?

[ladykate63.livejournal.com]

Your Rottweiler hates Xena? Tsk-tsk, what poor taste. But you, I assume, are a fan? :) In that case, just want to say hello to a fellow Xena fan and fellow writer (fan fiction and professional).

[mevennen.livejournal.com]

Hi! and welcome.

Would you believe it - I have never seen an episode of Xena! It was on a tv station I was unable to get, but I always thought I'd like to see it. I'll have to check out any repeats now I've moved.

[tanaise.livejournal.com]

Our rottie only hated the neighbor's boy. The mastiff hated him, little old grandmothers, and my dad's girlfriend. (my mom's dog). The rottie, though in the last months of her life, became an escape artist and at 120+ pounds with untreated arthritis and an ACL she tore when she ran into a car, she'd still jump the 4.5 foot fence around the dog pen and roam the neighborhood. (My mother could have given her painkillers for the arthritis, and used to, but we were trying to keep her from escaping and cut off her supply. Didn't work.) It was like dog heaven for her because either she was outside of the fence, usually up at the neighbor's barn eating whatever she might find, or she was captured and returned to my mother's house, usually to the kitchen, which meant she could eat all of the bread products before my mom got home from work.

[mevennen.livejournal.com]

Oh dear! What a liability.

Our rottie stays close to home, happily (we've got 5 acres so there's plenty of room). However, her trick when younger, apparently, was to trundle up the road to the pig farm (which has now gone) and play with the piglets. The farmer got so sick of taking her back that eventually he would just shut her in with them and T would pick her up after work.

She loved the piglets and they loved her. She is sort of pig-shaped, so that might explain it.

[shadowsandice.livejournal.com]

*insert a whole lot of giggline here*

My scottie is a scardey-dog. He doesn't even protect me from possums anymore (and our possums sound like Gollum when he's really ANGRY.)