Cairn Fever 2: The Gift of the Haggi

MacFoo!

The Twins’ recent stay with Uncle Hank inspired much merriment, a few drams to Burns and at least one or two recitations aloud.

So far as we remember.

Nodding DaisiesThe Haggi then promptly turned their attention to chickens, squirrels, crows, random cats, and nodding daisies.

And all was as it should be.

_______________________

…Until the frogs.

No one one could’ve seen those frogs coming.

Indeed!

Nevertheless, a few early morning bark-fests, several satisfying dives into shrubbery, and a nice quantity of sniffing around and about brought the MacFoos back to fighting trim.

Hank looked on.

Hmmph.  

C'mere....braaaaak!

The Haggi have since discovered that they’d very much like to become chicken farmers, that they can get up onto the dining room table – miracle of miracles – by a host of ingenious contrivances, and that they do indeed enjoy tussling with statuary.

(Mind you, it’s not as satisfying as a good out-and-out scrap, but it’ll do.)

Just no more frogs.

________________

Speaking of fightin’, no visit with Cairns – however virtual – would be complete without a bark out to the Bard of Ayrshire:

Address to the Haggi

Once more...in English?

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin’-race!

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies:
But, if Ye wish her gratefu prayer,

Gie her a Haggis!

An’ speaking of hurdies:

Haggi Hurdies

Funny thing.

Though their legs are far shorter and they’re a far mite fatter, Hank’s finding that it’s getting harder and harder to keep up with The Twins. Hank’s finding that he’s getting older. Over and out

Sometimes one just has to raise the white flag.

Or hide.

Sometimes.

One might. But Hank? He just growls a little and then collapses into a rumbly heap.

But he’s starting to think that maybe getting older requires some degree of humility. Or something. A bit of patience. Maybe sweet Ol’ Brown chose to be patient during all those years of Hank’s youthful foolishness and vinegar. Hmmm.

That’s an awful lot of patience.

Ach, nope. He’s not there quite yet.

Go on now, scalawags! Off wi’ ye!

MacFoo Doggies

Did someone say chicken?

___________________

In Memory of Beloved Ol’ Brown

Sweet Ol' BrownNov. 7, 2009

Such a Good Fellow

Advertisements

About Hank.

Raconteur | Dog About Town https://houseofhank.me/
This entry was posted in Critters, The Land of Was, Tom Hardy's Teeth, Worth a Sniff and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.