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

[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.