Tag Archives: Black Labrador Retriever

May 24, 2024

Science Notes (5/24/24)

It’s Friday, and I have Notes, but they’re all Science Notes, so while this post (and any others of similar ilk that may follow) is in the spirit of Friday Notes, it comes from a different direction. Science from right field, so to speak, rather than the usual oddities from left field.

These Notes were originally meant as reminders to mention some cool science things to friends over burgers and beers (or whatever). But rather than tasty morsels for the few, why not for the many? (Or at least for a few more.)

So today, Science Notes (and some reactions):

1 Comment | tags: AI, aircraft pilots, Black Labrador Retriever, burning iron, cosmology, dogs, Parker Solar Probe, positronic brain, Science Notes, toys | posted in Friday Notes, Science

June 21, 2020

Dog Tales: Memories

By Wyrd Smythe

Father’s Day, 1994

This post rises from deep in my Drafts Folder. I started it back in 2012 as a follow-up to the Sad Day; Perfect Day post. That one recalls a special 1994 memory about Samantha, my dog (who died a little before her time, in 2004). The second post would catalog various memories highlighting how much fun we had and how much she meant to me.

Two years later I did post a version of that eulogy: Dog Tales: Games. That post was actually the second beat to a post the day before, Sam’s Final Walk, which described the disposition of her ashes.

For Father’s Day, I thought it appropriate to post once more…

17 Comments | tags: Black Lab, Black Labrador Retriever, dog games, dogs, family, kids, love, Marriage, Sam, Samantha | posted in Life

November 16, 2018

Sam’s Song

By Wyrd Smythe

Father’s Day, 1994
(It really was June 19!)

Back in 1994, when Samantha and I first began living with each other, during our long walks together, I composed this little bit of “doggerel” (to the obvious tune of)…

This little dog, she’s a pup.

She’s got big paws and a tail.

With an arf, arf, sniff, sniff,

chew a rawhide bone.

This little dog came running home.

This little pup, she’s a black lab.

She likes running in the park.

With an arf, arf, sniff, sniff,

chase a tennis ball.

This little dog came running home.

This little lab, her name’s Sam.

She’s getting bigger every day.

With an arf, arf, sniff, sniff,

run around the yard.

This little dog came running home.

(I got a new laptop, so I’ve been going through a lot of old data deciding what to archive and what to transfer to the new machine. Among all those files I found the little dog ditty I wrote 24 years ago. (And I still miss that dog! One of the best I’ve ever known!))

Leave a comment | tags: Bentley, Black Lab, Black Labrador Retriever, dogs, Keith Olbermann, my dog, Sam, Samantha | posted in Life

October 12, 2014

Dog Tales: Games

By Wyrd Smythe

Last time I gave you the final chapter in the Story of Samantha — the repose of her ashes. Two years ago, I gave you an early chapter, the Tale of the Perfect Day (in part, a tale of a tail). This time, somewhat like a (long-delayed) wake, I’m going to share some random memories from The Life of Sam.

Actually, she was Samantha II. The first Samantha was a puppy I shared with a roommate. That Sam died very young when she lost in an attempt to take down a passing bus. My roommate, who’d left the gate open, was utterly devastated. We buried her beneath a stand of Joshua trees far out in the Mojave Desert.

The puppy, that is, not my roommate.

18 Comments | tags: Bewitched, Black Lab, Black Labrador Retriever, dog games, dogs, Elizabeth Montgomery, Keeshond, Kong toy, Sam, Samantha | posted in Life

October 11, 2014

Sam’s Final Walk

By Wyrd Smythe

The autumn leaves that litter the trail crunch beneath my feet, and dozens of flying insects — grasshoppers I think — flee the oncoming giant tromping through their domain. The late morning sky is a lovely cerulean broken only by lonely, scattered cloud wisps. The October air is crisp — like a chilled white wine — dry, bracing, invigorating. I am given a perfect fall day to accomplish my task.

The trees that surround me, mostly oak and linden, a few scattered elms, give way to pines. Now the trail is covered in long pine needles and pinecones. Large birds — falcons perhaps — watch my passing with avian alarm. A brave one flies directly overhead to get a closer look at the encroaching human.

I’m seeking the “Cathedral of Pines,” the place I’ve chosen for Sam’s final rest.

36 Comments | tags: ashes, autumn leaves, Black Lab, Black Labrador Retriever, dogs, final resting place, last rites, mourning, parks, peace, perfect day, pine trees, quiet, Sam, Samantha, silence, trees | posted in Life

October 11, 2012

Sad Day; Perfect Day

By Wyrd Smythe

Today’s date, 10/11/12, is one of those dates that’s numerically fun. (For my European friends, I guess it was yesterday.) And, of course, in one month and one day, we’ll have the last “golden date” of this century, 12/12/12.

But for me, October 11th is a sad day, a day of mourning. Eight years ago today, in 2004, my dog — who brought me as close as I have ever come to having my own child — took her last breath. Her name was Samantha; she was only ten.

That she died a couple of years after we moved into a new place I’d bought in part to provide an ideal home for her was tough. That she died a bit over a year after my divorce was final was really tough. That she died only months after the first time my job at The Company was eliminated and I had found a new position two days before my end date was just icing on a shit cake.

Today I choose to commemorate her passing by writing about the perfect day.

31 Comments | tags: beer, Black Lab, Black Labrador Retriever, dogs, fog, frost, perfect day, Sam, Samantha, snow | posted in Life

August 17, 2012

Joke: Dead Duck

By Wyrd Smythe

While I’ve always — and I do mean always — been a “class clown,” I’ve never been much of a joke teller. Mostly because I have trouble remembering them. I don’t mean the punch line. If I can remember the joke, I can remember the punchline. It’s generally the entire joke I can’t remember!

Which is somewhat odd considering all the joke books I read in my younger days and all the comedians I’ve enjoyed in my older days (RIP George; you were the greatest of them all).

The mind being the associative wonder that it is, sometimes some part of a conversation triggers an association, and that surfaces a joke from my mental archives (think Damian Lewis’ memory library from Dreamcatcher).

And sometimes when a new joke I’ve really liked is fresh in my mind, I go around telling it to everyone.

Which takes some doing, liking a joke that much. As I said, I’ve been reading joke books and following comedians a very long time, so it takes something a bit special to impress me. Most new jokes are just variations of old jokes.

But I heard one recently that cracked me up… and managed to be a truly new joke. Maybe it’ll have the same effect on you. Plus, it’s Friday and time to start goofing off.

So, without further ado, I give you…

17 Comments | tags: Black Labrador Retriever, Calico cat, dead duck, George Carlin, humor, jokes, vet | posted in From My Collection