Word trickled down to us that a new neighbor, who is three houses down from us, had reported seeing a bear in their yard, and called the police to have it removed. Imagine their disappointment when the neighbor nearer to us told them that it was Emma the Aussie, who had wandered down to play with his dog.
The police came on patrol anyway, and found no trace of a bear that they could use as bear spray practice. They should have looked for one that has one leg shaved, which Emma has. Hereby hangs another tale.
Back at the first of the month Emma had a bad case of food poisoning, which I strongly suspect had something to do with the big piece of of squirrel fur which she barfed up right in front of me. We took her to the vet, who promptly shaved her leg and stuck an IV in it. Two days and two nights later, Emma was returned to us, and she promptly reclaimed her bear’s territory. Moral here–if squirrel is on the menu, specify that you want the non-rotten one.
Such is a dog’s life. You get sick, only to have the cops called on you when you get home. It could have been worse–she could have run into Florida Man. Just a week or two ago one prime specimen sprayed thirty people in a Miami mall with–you guessed it–bear spray. He knocked over a candle shop, and bear sprayed his way out of the crime scene, and escaped in a cab, to whereabouts unknown.
Surrounded by Florida Men, unvaccinated maskless marauders, and various other yahoos, such as the fifty percent of nursing home workers in this state who are unvaccinated, what to do? Voltaire would say, we should cultivate our garden. In my case, I am about to throw the chickens a day old biscuit, and start a chicken riot.
Emma the Aussie is a big dog. She spends her days sleeping in the sun, and her nights on the dog bed. At 70+ pounds, she is far past the size of a registered Aussie. Think Shirley the Sheep from the great show Shaun the Sheep, who was three times larger than the rest of the flock.
Her sleeping habits surprised us the other day. She came to snooze on our couch downstairs, and to have me scratch her back at the same time. As soon as I started, a worm looking creature came crawling out of her fur. I grabbed it, yelled, and threw it on the floor.
The ever logical MJ inspected it, as it was sine curving it’s way across the floor, and said, “It’s a salamander.” That is the signature amphibian of the southern Appalachians, and I have seen tiny ones, up to ones more than two feet long (re: Hellbender.) I liberated it back outdoors.
When one of top woodworking tool sellers in the country describes a single thin piece of steel as being “legendary,” it’s time to pay attention. The wood certainly does, when this well sharpened Sandvik (now Bahco) scraper gets in on the action.
It’s easy enough to sharpen a good scraper blade, as it can be done with just a file and a burnisher–a screwdriver will do as a burnisher in a pinch, but mine (re:gear head department), is carbide steel. The edge is a “hook” edge, not a chisel edge, like a plane blade.
Let’s have a trans-Atlantic coalition:
Gott in Himmel! A Swedish scraper blade in an American tool, which was designed by a German immigrant. This floor will be refinished in just days, if I can keep the stinking dogs from walking through the wet water-based polyurethane.
As it is time to refinish our kitchen floor once again, I needed a tool upgrade. Our dogs take a few years to do the damage, but there is practically no finish they can’t ruin–one of them even ate the grout out of a tile floor. Therefore, it was time to hit the dreaded fleabay for a classic tool, and as usual, this hog found an acorn.
I found that the old Stanley #82 scraper has something of a cult following. A chief writer for one of the best woodworking magazines stumbled across these on fleabay, and liked them so much he ended up buying something like nine of them, giving most away as gifts. The kicker was when one person pointed out that this scraper could reach into practically any corner. Try and do that with a random orbit sander.
I bought one that was listed as a “planer,” whatever that is. Some WD, sandpaper, and a micro abrasive and the thing was bright and shiny. I also renewed the wood handles with some wax polish.
As there isn’t much detailed info about these available, I was intrigued by the original scraper blade, which has two edges bent at ninety degree angles. A couple of swipes with sandpaper revealed the Stanley logo. No big surprise there.
Then the extra words began to appear: “Rough” and “Finish.” After a little inspection, the two edges were finished differently. The Rough edge is curved, while the Finish edge is flat. Traut must have been a genius at multi-tasking.
The final feature is that many many scraper blades can be used besides the original one. I have already tried a high quality Swedish made Sandvik blade in it, and it scrapes like nobody’s business. The dogs will be banished from the kitchen for a good long while.