This week's Link Dump has a change in sponsorship: Our Dog From the Past!
Meet Peppy. I may be a Crazy Cat Lady, but I'm no bigot. I love dogs, and am always ready to make friends with any who happen to cross my path. It is just a quirk of fate that I have (to date) only owned one dog in my life. In fact, my life's dream is to get a large place out in the country someplace where I can own all the animals--cats, dogs, horses, a goat or two--that I please, and never have much of anything to do with humans again.
I must have been about 12 when Peppy entered my life. He was owned by some neighbors. However, my mother didn't like how they were treating him. He was neglected, kept outside 24 hours a day, and generally had a pretty miserable life. So, my mother being my mother, she marched over there and told them, "You're giving me that dog."
My mother being my mother, they gave her that dog.
Peppy was a prince among canines. He was a sweet, gentle, philosophical sort, who always had a hint of wistfulness in his eyes, as if he understood all the hidden meanings of life. Once, when the home we were renting at the time was put up for sale, a prospective buyer came by. He looked at Peppy and said, "That dog has an old soul." He really did. We were a bit nervous about how he would get along with Archie, but they turned out to be the best of friends. Peppy immediately acknowledged Archie as king of the household, which Archie repaid with a gracious acceptance of his new subject.
|Note who got the pillow.|
|In case you were feeling bad about him not getting the pillow.|
Unfortunately, Peppy developed serious back problems (apparently that's common for his breed of dog,) which worsened as he got older. By the time he was 14 or 15, his back legs were completely paralyzed, and he developed other health issues, as well. After consulting with the vet, we decided it would be best for him to be put to sleep. It was the first (and, I hope, only) time I've ever had to euthanize a pet. I still feel guilt over it.
Where the hell is "Meanderings of Memory?"
What the hell happened to Raoul Wallenberg?
Watch out for Jack the Ink-Slinger!
A notable 18th century female mathematician.
A remarkably well-preserved medieval shipwreck.
Some archaeologists have found Paul Revere's outhouse, and they're tickled pink about it.
Is this the oldest life on earth?
The sunken 8th continent.
The Armless Aviatrix.
Colin Mackenzie's multi-talented Indian assistants.
Packing for a trip, 19th century style.
This is probably the best piece of advice I've ever read.
This week's Advice From Thomas Morris: Try to avoid inhaling bones.
Jeffrey Lash, one of the weirdest space alien con men you'll ever hear about.
Bridstock Weaver, forgotten pirate. Well, forgotten until now, I guess.
A notorious Pennsylvania "Hex murder."
Folklore of Welsh lakes.
The 18th century "Beast of Milan."
Benjamin Harrison and the body-snatchers.
Well, you just lost your big chance to buy Hitler's underwear.
An Iraqi city founded by Alexander the Great.
If you live in California, you don't need to be told that doomsday is near. Trust me on this one.
Black cats really are lucky.
A Perthshire fireball.
18th century breastfeeding alternatives.
A very naughty Irish ghost.
A mysterious medieval burial of a porpoise.
There are a lot of stolen human ashes out there.
Irish exploding skies.
"Inflammable material" in the library.
Bodies have been found at an ancient haunted house.
Caroline of Brunswick comes to England.
The Confession of Jack Straw.
The Confession of Jacob Harden.
Norfolk folk remedies.
Harvest time in the Georgian era.
Canada's best-documented UFO sighting.
The Sorites Paradox and a story I covered earlier on this blog, the Bealings Bells.
Women's education in the 19th century.
The magazine that sparked Japan's feminist movement.
Homes fit for Romeo and Juliet.
An 18th century "dumb blonde."
This week in Russian Weird: Mystery Siberian Landforms, which sounds like an excellent prologue to the Return of Cthulhu.
And so yet another WLD comes to an end. See you on Monday, when we'll look at a lovelorn teenager's mysterious death. In the meantime, here's something from the Byzantine era. I came across this in a roundabout way. I recently knitted a shawl pattern that the designer named in honor of St. Kassiani. (No, really.) That made me want to investigate her music, and so here we are.