Doug Riddle's Pets

We currently have four pets, Bandit, Biscuit, Etrange` and Zaddie. We have a nice big back yard, and the dogs love it. Our fence was recently damaged by a storm, so we had to put up a temporary run for Entrange`, and we have to keep Bandit on a lead when she is outside. Bandit likes to roam the neighborhood when she can get out, but she is so old we are concerned she might get hit by a car. So she is not allowed out without the lead until I finish the fence.

This is Bandit. She belongs to my wife, or at least my wife belongs to her. She is about 14. She used to belong to some good friends who found her as a puppy. They had to move 5 or 6 years ago and we adopted her then. She is very much the Grand Dame of the house. She is getting a little stiff now, but is still pretty spry once she gets her asprin.  Bandit likes to sing.   She also talks.

She does this grumble, growl, crooning thing when she wants things.  My wife can tell what Bandit is talking about by the sounds.  It takes me longer.  I have learned the "You forgot my asprin!" grumping and the "I really, really want to go outside!" fussing.

Bandit used to be the outside dog, but the vet suggested that we move her inside about the same time Etrange` showed up. He was a very welcome addition. With the changing of the guard, Bandit took up ownership of the house.  Biscuit was not at all pleased with that development at first.  Bandit got first crack at the food.   Bandit took over the choice spot on the couch, and Bandit was usually faster at the scraps the youngest daughter left behind, and around, herself whenever she ate.   Biscuit did not appreciate being groomed constantly either, but has gotten used to it.   We think Biscuit has adjusted to being Bandit's puppy.  Bandit also grooms the cat.   Bandit takes care of everyone.  Bandit is a sweetheart.

Once a guard, always a guard.   When Bandit isn't following the kids around, or resting outside, she can be found at her post by the window barking at the occasional truck or grown up going down the street.   She doesn't fuss about kids coming and going down the street, but if they are over thirteen, she barks at them.

This is Biscuit. She was given to us by our cousin Nancy Marcantel. Nancy is a well known Cajun singer, The Chanteous Acadienne. She is also the founder of ARF, the Animal Rescue Foundation. Biscuit is a terrier, but we are not sure what sort. Momma may have been a Rat Terrier, we think daddy might have been Jack Russel Terrier. Biscuit will be four this year. Biscuit belongs to my youngest daughter. She likes to fetch, run, sleep and eat popcicles. Biscuit, Bandit and the cat wrestle for hours in the morning, then they sleep the rest of the day away until the youngest daughter gets home. When she gets home they follow her around like little ducklings. This picture was taken while Biscuit was chasing my youngest daughter. This is Biscuit doing her "Mighty Dog" impression.

As you might have guessed, Biscuit is spoiled. Biscuit gets extra snacks and Biscuit is small enough to sit in laps. Biscuit likes to jump into laps and then bark at Bandit. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see she is bragging. Of course, Biscuit also has to wear dresses and be "put to bed" in the crib in the youngest daughter's room. I guess it all works in the end. Bandit gets to laugh at Biscuit when Biscuit walks out of the youngest's room, chagrined, in doll clothes wearing a bonnet. It has to be tough to be "Mighty Dog" in Cabbage Patch clothes and makeup.

This is Etrange`. His name is French for stranger. He showed up one night after a storm and found my middle daughter outside. He was a few months old, he was soaking wet, he had worms, his neck was infected, and his hair was falling out. He was a sight! Etrange` was originally going to be the youngest daughter's puppy, but she was afraid of him in the begining because of his infection and size. He became my dog. He is still a big puppy and not quite a year old. The youngest is still afraid he will knock her down, but she knows all he wants is a belly rub.

Etrange` reminds me more of a wolf, than a dog. I spent some time in the wild with a wolf yearling a decade ago while in the Army. The difference between an eighty pound dog and a wolf is questionable. I like working dogs. I was always leary of having large dogs around kids, but when you meet a dog like Etrange` it can change your mind. Etrange` is rambunctious, but not mean or dangerous... Well, not to friends and family anyway. We have no idea what sort of mix he is, but it does give us something to talk about on a regular basis.

Cousin Nancy helped us with him when we first adopted him.. In short order we had him cured of worms and sulfur powder and iodine cleared up his neck. He was such a sweet dog. He began growing rapidly. Now he is seventy-five or eighty pounds of watch dog. We had to get a serious chain (quarter inch thick steel for links) to keep him on his run. He popped or chewed through the ropes and lesser chains. We don't worry about him running off, but we do worry about innocent strangers.

Whenever he breaks the lead at night to get at some nocturnal critter he stays in the yard. We usually find him by the backdoor with a prize when he gets loose. We always say a small prayer of thanks that the Latter Day Saints had not picked that day to knock on the door at dawn. Etrange` cannot tell the difference between the meter reader and a trespasser.

He may be part wolf or coyote. He is far too large for a coyote, but not large enough for wolf. He has an odd mix of characteristics. In any event, I suspect his mother was ferral. We live in a semi-rural area and ferral dogs do not thrive out here. In the city ferral animals can find plenty to eat, but out here a young ferral dog will not survive long. There isn't enough game, there is very little to scavange and too much competition. Etrange` was probably only a few days from starvation when he found my daughter. He is healthy, happy and a valuable member of the family now. He still likes to hunt and accounts for a squirrel (aka tree rat), rabbit or woodland creature once a week or so. The armadillos drive him nuts, but have not fallen victim to him yet.

This is Zaddie. Zaddie is about a year old now. His hobbies include shredding curtains, eating needles, scaling book cases and attacking bugs. (He doesn't eat needles anymore; the last one showed him the error of his ways and cost $165.00 to get removed) Before we got the cat, any loud noise followed by a crash probably meant the (then) eight year old was about to be in trouble. Now it means the cat will be found hiding under the middle daughter's bed pretending to be innocent.

My daughter wanted a girl cat. Since she got a boy, in typical Danielle fashion, she gave it a girl's name and had him fixed. I blame her for his behavior. He is obviously striking out at the furniture in an attempt to assert his vanishing masculinity.

Back to the Entrance page.