Bullmarket French Bulldog Breeders

Delilah has a Twin and Nell is on Strike

We spent the day at the Hanover Fall Fair on Sunday. The usual fall agricultural fair stuff – 4H kids with their dairy cattle, prize winning chickens, heavy horse pulls, miniature horses and the steer competition.

It was during the steer competition that we met our new favorite cow steer –  a rather aggravated looking black Angus with the most recalcitrant, stubborn expression on his face. While the other cattle were lining up nicely, feet perfectly placed and still as statues, this cow non coew steer was pissed off about the whole ordeal. He stomped from side to side, refused to put his feet where they belonged, and was muttering under his breath that it was ‘all pointless’.

The thing is, he just looked exactly like Delilah — well, OK, not exactly. I mean, Delilah is a twenty two pound French Bulldog, not a two ton steer, but it’s all in the eyes. He had has her same black, deep, shoe button eyes, and her precise expression of mutinous, stubborn will power. If they both had a saying tattooed on their sides, it would be “Don’t wanna“.

Don't Wanna Be a Show Dog

I picture Delilah behaving in the exact same way if we were ever stupid enough to try to stick her in the show ring. Plus, we’re not allowed to use those hook thingies to poke our dogs into place — although with some dogs, we should be (she said ominously, shooting a dirty look at the small black dog sleeping on her feet).

Penelope, who resembles nothing more than a brindle basketball on four legs these days, is on a mid pregnancy hunger strike. She is not making this whole impending motherhood thing easy, that’s for sure. Currently, she will only eat her food if I:

a) poach and shred a chicken breast onto her raw food
b) artfully arrange the chicken so that it wraps around the raw food, camouflaging it
c) I then poke the little balls of chicken camo raw food into her waiting mouth, like a stupid floor sitting mommy bird feeding her evil little offspring

The other dogs, of course, gape at this entire procedure with their mouths hanging open. Sailor has started to let out shrieks of outrage, which, if translated into person-speak, would no doubt sound like “Are you freakin’ kidding me? You’re hand feeding her? Me, I got a hunk of raw chicken to eat, and I liked it. Tell princess I’m going to come and smack some sense into her thick little skull.”

Penelope just rolls her eyes, yawns, and tells me to get my pedicure kit and do her toe nails in a prettier shade of pink. It’s rough being the center of the universe.

Here’s Elliott, after I told him that his paramour was refusing to eat poached chicken breast –

Immediately after wards, he rolled off the couch in shock, bonking his head on the floor. Luckily, he’s a boy Frenchie, which means his head is full of rocks, so the only damage was a dent in my floor.

Of course, Paris, who is Penelope’s mortal enemy, kindly offered to finish off any food Penelope didn’t want, and even some she did. She’s always helpful like that.

4 replies
  1. The Cletus Residence
    The Cletus Residence says:

    Steers are castrated bulls. They are by no conceivable definition to be defined as cows. Cows and “she” go together. Steers and “he” go together. Cows and “he” never go together unless you have a metrosexual steer. perhaps. I’ll have to take that under advisement.

    Farmspeak 101

    The Cletus Residence’s last blog post..Another day beneath the yoke?

  2. frogdogz
    frogdogz says:

    Either way, it’s gonna be a steak in a few weeks…

    But yeah, that’s a steer. I took some photos of the dairy cow competition, too. Jerseys sure are cute, as far as cows go.

  3. Susan
    Susan says:

    The above makes me think of our first few weeks with Logan, Ken kept referring to him as “she” and “her” [habit, of course, but why pass up a chance at a cheap shot?] and I would correct him, “That’s HE, you know, PENIS, BOY, VULVA, GiRL,” usually quite loudly, especially if there were people around.

  4. The Cletus Residence
    The Cletus Residence says:

    Carol, you would like the Jerseys. They are the liddle devils of the cow world, horrible, wrong minded cows that would stomp you as soon as look at you, and they have such sweet, sweet faces. Hah! Trust me, it’s a disguise…

    Guernseys are sweet. Holsteins are sweet. Brown Swiss are sweet. Jerseys are evil.

    Ex-farm girl…

    The Cletus Residence’s last blog post..Another day beneath the yoke?

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