Bo Knows - A Funny Dog Blog

City Squatters Forced Out

The big apple. New York City.

I drove through it once, with my parents, on the way to Georgia. It had lots of buildings, lots of big squirrels with thin tails and lots of pigeon poop.

Outside of the abundance of fire hydrants, I didn’t get the attraction to the place. But to each his own.

Like a bunch of chickens who’ve been hanging out in the city for the better part of twenty years. Yeah they got small brains, but what’s kept them there? A rooster pimp is all I can come up with.

The Daily News prints it up and points out their tale in today’s edition.

Some plucky Bronx chickens have flown the coop for greener pastures.

With nets and their bare hands, a group of scrappy volunteers captured 35 of the wily wild chickens living in a commercial parking lot in Highbridge, sending them off to a sanctuary upstate.

K&N Parking Lot manager Ramon Lopez and his wife, Carmen, have been caring for the birds – believed to be the city’s largest brood of wild chickens – for more than 20 years. Faced with the expense of an ever-growing group, and threatened with a $500 city fine, Lopez reluctantly accepted help with finding his chicks new homes.

The wild crowd has been a neighborhood favorite, attracting parking lot regulars and young neighbors like 4-year-old Jack Nuciforo to feed them cookies.

Saturday, volunteers with Farm Sanctuary gathered at the lot on Edward L. Grant Highway to help corral the birds.

Many in the feathered flock proved elusive though, darting under parked cars and through fences to escape capture.

“We need a better plan,” panted one volunteer after a futile chase down Cromwell Ave.

Equipped with bird feed, crates and nets, the chicken wranglers fanned out.

After four hours, the volunteers managed to crate about three dozen birds. “It’s between serious strategy and luck,” laughed volunteer Kim Korona.

Rumor has it Korona just does it for the glow.

Squirrels Live on Coconut Grove

I’ve got a lovely pair of coconuts. Or should I say, I used to. Speaking of coconuts, let’s talk fruits and the best kind. Personally I like apples. My old man hand feeds me nicely sliced wedges. Apple cores need not apply. I think my father likes the way I chew them because he laughs while I eat. I just wish he’d let me dunk it in the caramel dip once in a while. Watermelon. I love watermelon. I get my supply of the watery goodness in the summer when it’s abundant, and cheap. It’s delivered rindless, cubed and seedless. That last part is important because my mother hates cleaning up the seeds I’ve spit out on the living room floor. She’s always careful about reading the label on melons. My father likes checking out melons too, but that’s an entirely different story. Finally, grapes. I love grapes. In fact I just had a hung bunch of ‘em. Why just the…whoa… I’m not feeling…well…right…now. *Crash* I’ve fallen and I can’t get up . . . . . . Just kidding folks. I wanted to give everyone a quick reminder that grapes are deadly to dogs. Don’t feed them to us, regardless of how cute we look and how much we beg. But back to coconuts. Today we have light hearted story of a wacky human and two squirrels playing the game. The Sun has the full story

THESE two squirrels go to infinity and beyond to prove they are nuts about coconuts — diving head-first into the shells for a satisfying snack. The peckish pair look more like starved spacemen tucking into the tropical treats in animal lover Jane Roberts’ back garden in Fareham, Hants. Jane, 46, leaves out two coconuts a week for her furry friends. She suspends them on pieces of string from her washing line and watches the crazy critters digging in. Jane said: “The first time I saw them feeding I nearly died laughing, they looked like a pair of astronauts. “Even now I can’t stop chuckling every time I see them. “I make a large hole in the coconut so they can get to the flesh. They can’t get enough of them. “I worry they might get stuck in there one day, but they are clever little things.”

Coconut marinated squirrel. I can’t wait for dinner.

Hen Plays the Identity Theft Game

Cock-a-doodle-do. Good morning folks.

I start today with that intro because I love chickens, especially boiled. Nothing is better than sucking on the pimply rubber skin of a boiled chicken carcass. The dish is my mother’s specialty. Well, if you take the microwave away from her, and the telephone, that is.

My father? Not a fan. That’s why I get twice the helpings when she makes it. If he’d just do me a favor and keep the overcooked spinach to himself, it would be a perfect date night meal.

But I digress from today’s highlighted story. It’s about a hen, some pups and love. The Telegraph has all the details.

The one-year-old, called Mabel, took a shine to the pups at a farm in Shrewsbury and now keeps them warm by roosting on top of them in their dog basket.

Her owners – Edward and Ros Tate – said she waited until the puppies’ mother – Nettle – left them before hopping into the basket to keep them warm.

Nettle is now left out in the cold – pining for her puppies in the yard as they nest with their adopted mother.

Mr Tate, 43, of The Isle at Bicton Heath, Shropshire, said: “Mabel was hatched here about a year ago. She would have gone onto someone’s dinner plate but we saved her and brought her into the house.

“Unfortunately, she got into an accident with a horse, which accidentally trod on her foot. Because of that, she gets terribly cold during the winter so we decided to bring her into the house.”

“And then we had puppies about three weeks ago. Mabel observed Nettles behaviour and, as soon as there was a chance, she hopped into the dog basket to roost on the pups. She keeps them and herself warm, while Nettle is outside on the yard.

“It was within a week Mabel was jumping in the box with them and brooding over them. She took to them like they were her own chicks.

“Nettle was a bit startled to say the least – but she didn’t mind too much eventually. She’s happy to have a helping pair of wings.

“We were amazed when we first it happen – my 13-year-old daughter first saw it happen and called us to come and have a look. And when we saw Mabel here roosting on the pups – we just laughed.

“We’re hoping that soon Mabel will have her own chicks to look after but I don’t think Nettle will be returning the favour when that happens.”

I wonder, when these pups grow up, will they eat chicken?

Elephant Objects to Marriage

I’m not a fan of formal ceremonies, mostly because I’m never invited.

Informal get togethers are another matter entirely. Typically they’re held in the back yard of one my parents’ friends houses, with all matter of species invited. Well, dogs mostly and the occasional cat.

For the most part we’re all relatively well behaved. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like we eat our hamburgers and hot dogs with knives and forks, but rather we don’t eat the little kids out in the open.

Relax. I’m talking about Sour Patch Kids. My dentist highly recommends them. For what it’s worth, the yellow ones make me scrunch my face.

Since I’m always well behaved, especially in social situations, I wondered why I never got to go one of those formal affairs. Today’s story gives a hint as to why. Thaindian News has the complete tale.

A male elephant, kept on display at the marriage reception of the children of two Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) MPs, ran amok, attacking and damaging 20 cars, a truck and a police jeep before it was brought under control, police said Thursday.

According to police, three elephants were on a display at the wedding reception.

Around 10.30 p.m, the male elephant turned violent and started attacking the parked cars of the guests, before moving towards the lawn where the guests were. But then it changed track to another side where a welcome gate was erected. It destroyed the gate and moved towards the parking lot where it flipped over about 20 cars.

As a truck passed on the road, the elephant ran towards it and hit it, toppling it into a road side ditch. The elephant then moved towards a police jeep and rammed it from the front, while the driver and the other policemen narrowly escaped being seriously injured or beign trampled upon by the tusker.

When police realised that the elephant was out of control, they informed forest officials.

Typical. There’s always one guest who has to make an ass out of himself. His family will never forget this.

Boozing Monkey Sent to Rehab

We all have our vices.

My canine sister Copper is obsessed with farts, my feline sister Mothball is fascinated by the cursor on this screen and, I hate to admit it, I can’t make it through a day without barking at squirrels.

These are heavy burdens to carry but it beats the one loading down my parents. In short, they’re addicted to love. Love of the furry kind.

Our house is now fur central with the addition of several new members. In addition to Copper and Mothball, they have added into the mix Patience and Goliath. Both are rescues from the Bernese Auction Rescue Coalition, and as the name implies, Bernese Mountain Dogs. There isn’t much space on the bed these days.

What was once my lone domain is now littered with pups. My only recourse is to call animal control and report my family as hoarders. It’s the only way to get my spot on the pillow back.

I guess it could be worse. My parents could be the chimpanzee in today’s story courtesy of Reuters.

MOSCOW (Reuters) – A Russian chimpanzee has been sent to rehab by zookeepers to cure the smoking and beer-drinking habits he has picked up, a popular daily reported on Friday.

An ex-performer, Zhora became aggressive at his circus and was transferred to a zoo in the southern Russian city of Rostov, where he fathered several baby chimps, learned to draw with markers and picked up his two vices.

“The beer and cigarettes were ruining him. He would pester passers-by for booze,” the Komsomolskaya Pravda paper said.

It added he has now been transferred to the city of Kazan, about 800 km (500 miles) east of Moscow, for rehabilitation treatment.

(Reporting by Tanya Ustinova, writing by Amie Ferris-Rotman)

Next stop: Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.

Dog Turns Owner Over to Police

I’m not a snitch.

When my father rolls in at midnight after boys’ night out, I don’t bark to alert my mother of his arrival. I wait, knowing he’ll dig into the fridge for something to eat. Sure it might be a week old plate of spaghetti or a plate of tuna salad from an era long gone by, but like him I’m not proud, just hungry.

When my sister Moose captures a mouse, chews its head off and brings it into the house, I don’t bark a thing. It’s not my place. My place is in the corner, to watch my mother discover it and scream in horror. Why would I want to break up the surprise?

Speaking of surprises I don’t bark when my father comes home with Christmas presents either. Why spoil the heartfelt gifts of a swiffer, a toaster oven and a set of pans. Romance baby…the man is all romance.

So it surprised me when I read this morning’s police blotter about a Jack Russell dropping a dime on his owner. The BBC has the full story.

The excited pet dog of a German man on the run from the law led police to his master’s hiding place in a cupboard, police in the west of the country say.

When officers called at his flat in Euskirchen, near Cologne, the door was opened by an acquaintance of the missing man who was holding the dog.

The acquaintance said he did not know where the owner was.

But when the dog was set down, it led police to the cupboard, where it stood expectantly with its tail wagging.

Officers who opened the cupboard, which was just a metre (3ft 3in) high and 80cm (2ft 6in) wide, found the fugitive “hunched up inside”.

Neither the name of the suspect, 52, nor that of the pet was given but, according to AFP, the dog was a Jack Russell terrier.

Public Service Announcement: Crime doesn’t pay. Begging does.

Cliff Diving Dog Survives Plunge

I jumped into a lake once.

Not on purpose, but by accident. You see there was this leaf, cleverly disguised as a big rock, floating in the lake a few feet below me. I thought it was a perfect place for a photo opp. Humans love those.

Let’s be honest with ourselves, is there anything more majestic than a beautiful mixed breed dog, dressed up in his best fur suit, sitting in front of a colorful landscape that only fall can offer? Of course not. Especially when that pup is me.

So I closed my eyes and jumped on the ‘rock’. Much to my amazement my paws did not stop on a hard surface, but rather plunged into the depths of the lake.Water went up my nose and I gasped for air. It seemed an eternity until I resurfaced.

With oxygen back in my lungs, I swam back to shore and struggled up the two foot embankment. It’s a good thing I had my wits about me because my parents were too busy laughing to save me.

As revenge my father’s Chuck Taylor’s did not fare very well that night.

Anway, my tale comes to mind after reading the story of a dog with a similar, harrowing experience courtesy of UPI.

SEAFORD, England, Feb. 22 (UPI) — Two dogwalkers said they feared the worst when their springer spaniel leaped from a 300-foot cliff, but the dog bounced off a wave and swam to shore.

Lia Markwick and Stephen Winslade, who were walking Poppy as a favor for Lia’s brother, said the canine was chasing a seagull and made a flying leap from the cliff in Seaford, England, The Sun reported Monday.

Markwick and Winslade said they expected to look down and see Poppy’s body, but instead the dog had managed to avoid hitting the rocks below and landed in the high tide, allowing her to swim to a nearby beach. Markwick said they called Coast Guard authorities, who recovered the canine after it made its way to dry land.

The dog’s owners, Ben Markwick and Kelly Ixter, said Poppy suffered a collapsed lung but is expected to make a full recovery.

Seagulls. Not only can’t you catch them, but they poop on your fur and steal people food.

I guess even God can have an off day.

Cat Thinks It’s a Chick

I’m not sure what I want to become when I grow up.

Yeah I know time is running out, with me being 17 and all, but once you give up on your dream there’s not much left.

So here’s a partial list of what I’d like to become:

1) Firehouse dog

2) A father
3) First dog to catch the Chuck Wagon
4) Head of household on the family’s tax return

To some my goals may seem unachievable but as I like to think, if you aren’t stretching, you’re shrinking.

Yet to others my goals appear modest. To those folks I challenge you to compare them to a cat living his ‘dream’ in Australia. The NT News has her sto ry.

FOUR legs, two pointy ears, whiskers on his face – Bustopher might look like one, but he is far from being an ordinary cat.

The four-year-old feline thinks he’s a chook.

When Naomi Oliver’s chickens laid their eggs and didn’t show much interest in the incubation and the upbringing of their offspring, the animal-lover’s feline took over the command in the chook shed – and started incubating the eggs.

“I am not sure if he knows that he is a cat, he doesn’t really behave like one,” Mrs Oliver told the Northern Territory News.

“Bustopher often wanders around in the chook pen, playing with the chooks as if he was one of them, not a predator.”

But it wasn’t until her chooks laid a few eggs in a nest outside their shed that Mrs Oliver discovered her cat’s quirky affection for her poultry.

“I was looking for Bustopher and found him sitting on the eggs, obviously trying to incubate them,” Mrs Oliver said.

“When he was still there after three days I started wondering what was going through his head – but I am sure he thought he was doing a great job.”

Mrs Oliver said her cat only left his nest once or twice a day to grab a feed and have a nap on her bed, before heading back to his hatchlings-to-be.

If you ask me, that’s some serious prep time for a meal. I’ll stick to human treats and watching Iron Chef.

Take Off Zee Bra

What’s black and white and read all over? Well, it’s certainly not the newspaper. Have you seen the circulation numbers recently?

The correct answer, of course, is a zebra with a sunburn.

Zebra’s are funny animals. They’re part horse, part donkey, and part Ansel Adams photo opp. They’re known for…for…for something. Let’s see, we have Secretariat who was a famous horse, we have Gus who was a famous field goal kicking mule, and we have Donkey who was a famous, uhmm, donkey. But a zebra? I got nothing…until yesterday.

It happened in my own back yard, the back yard folks refer to as Atlanta where Lima, the zebra, took it upon himself to take a tour of the city. Of course his key to the city didn’t fit and his adventure was frowned upon by the locals.

The Atlanta Journal Constitution has the full story of my new hero.

A zebra from the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus escaped his handler and led police on a chase through downtown Atlanta on Thursday afternoon.

The black-and-white striped animal was spotted all over town — in the parking lot near the Richard B. Russell Federal Building, near Centennial Olympic Park, CNN and on the Downtown Connector. He was finally captured on the interstate near the Grady curve. According to witnesses, he was galloping between lanes of traffic on the Downtown Connector before his capture.

The 12-year-old zebra, named Lima, was exercising to prepare for Thursday night’s circus performance at Philips Arena when “something spooked him,” Ringling Brothers spokeswoman Crystal Drake told the Associated Press. The zebra broke away from his trainers and bumped up against a fence before wiggling through an opening and running off, she told the AP.

Daniel Nance saw a westbound zebra zipping down Alabama Street near MARTA’s Five Points station.

“All of a sudden, a freaking zebra comes running down the street like a car. Five or six police cars were in hot pursuit. And a bunch of officers on foot. But then I got scared, thinking … what else is loose?” a laughing Nance said.

Police cruisers blocked off all southbound lanes of Interstate 75 and were able to herd the zebra over to the right shoulder and off an entrance ramp, where his trainer was on hand to capture and soothe him, Drake told the AP.

“He obviously was excited, but he was in good shape,” Drake told the AP. “His handler calmed him down.”

The animal suffered cuts on his hooves from his long run, Drake said. The show’s vet was examining him, but Drake said he would likely perform as scheduled.

For the curious, Lima’s role in the show is a one act play interpretation of Sex in the City’s Carrie Bradshaw.

The opening line is, “Hey, why the long face?”

Here’s the video of the chase:

Look At That Van Go

I don’t like to brag but I consider myself a bit of an artist.

I’m not saying I should be confused with some of the whack jobs in the industry, because I gotta be honest, I’m not going to whack off my ear to show the world how ‘brilliant’ I am. In my case, I’m just going to let my art speak for itself.

That art, as all of you should know by know, is the art of writing. Specifically the writing of the literary classic, and autobiography, “Bad to the Bone, Memoir of a Rebel Doggie Blogger“.

Or how about this:

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Ok, I plagiarized that last line from my typing teacher, but everything in my autobiography is original…and true!!

Anyway, other pups have different talents, and unfortunately for some it comes because of suffering. Such is the case of Tucker, a painter, who hails from Cleveland, Oh. Cleveland.com has his tale.

Such is the case with Tucker, a German shepherd who ran loose, dragging a large bolt and chain, through rural Ohio for months until he was down to a bony 49 pounds. After being rescued, Tucker ended up in Lakewood with permanent foster parents Jim Lasher and Kara Vlach-Lasher.

Sweet and gentle, Tucker suffers from the canine equivalent of multiple sclerosis and cannot raise his leg to pee. As a result, he leaves elaborate and visually interesting trails on the sidewalk.

Seeing their beauty, Vlach-Lasher has captured them in photographs. These compositions will be featured in “PEE-ces of Art, by Tucker” a fund-raiser/art show on Sunday, March 7, at Bela Dubby in Lakewood.

With Vlach-Lasher acting as interpreter, Tucker recently answered some questions from PDQ’s John Campanelli.

How do you discover that relieving yourself physically could also mean relieving yourself artistically?

It was clearly a spontaneous discovery. I guess you could say it arose out of a “stream of consciousness.”

What types of other art did you dabble in before you discovered your talent for tinkle trails?

I briefly experimented with biscuit mosaics, but I could never finish a complete work before nibbling away at it.

“Tinkle trails” seems a bit unsophisticated; what’s the proper name that describes your artwork?

“PEE-ces of Art, by Tucker,” although I do like “tinkle trails.” Can I use that?

What is your inspiration?

Not to place blame on my birth parents, but I’ve had a rough life and was never able to express myself the way I wanted to. Now that I am older, a senior dog, in fact, I find that life is inspiration enough.

Your streams are elaborate; what guides you as you work?

Since my condition makes me unstable at times, I am guided by gravity. Some days I wobble more than others and then I get really creative. Just the other day I created a piece that looked like Dick York.

Who or what is your muse?

You know, there is this cute little poodle down the street . . . Other times, it’s just too much water.

How long do you consider the composition, the location and everything else before putting paint to canvas, so to speak?

My work is very spontaneous. When the mood strikes, I must compose. I didn’t consider the location as much when I first began in this medium. Once I created on the carpet! That’s when I learned from my mom the three things that matter most when generating a new work: location, location, location.

Are there hazards to doing your type of artwork?

Sometimes I get the feeling the other dogs in the neighborhood look at me funny and think I am showing off.

You knew this question was coming, of course: Do you sign your artwork?

Yes I do, but only other dogs are able to read it. Sorry, humans. But I think the folks in my neighborhood see the distinctiveness of each piece and identify it as an original Tucker. I’d be happy to put a paw print on one of the photographic prints at my art show for you.

Hmmm, maybe I should start selling my dumps as artwork. If Tucker can create a likeness of Dick York with pee, a poo clone of Elizabeth Montgomery shouldn’t be a problem. Unless I’ve had lots of cheese.