Dusty: 1997-2012

Today, at approximately 12:30 PM Atlantic Time, Mrs LFM and I were with Dusty when he took his last breath. He wasn’t in pain or discomfort, but the past 48 hours had seen a decline in his health and joie de vivre that told us it was time. He was 15, and throughout his long, happy life, had always been possessed of that kind of overflowing vitality that so often comes packaged in the form of a good old rangy mutt. Nature blessed him with that, and us with him.

A little over a year ago, I wrote a memoriam to Alf, another great spirit whose life enriched ours, and there were written some heartfelt words I will present again on this occasion. I feel compelled to revisit them here as they speak to the responsibilities of Leadership, of Trust, and the being worthy of it:

Any Leader of Dogs worthy of the title understands and accepts the responsibilities that come with fully embracing the beautiful thing that is a relationship with a Dog, and knows going in that the relationship comes with an expiry date – one that, with all likelihood, will lead to their being dragged kicking and screaming into being the one who must decide when to end the life of somebody they only want to love and protect forever.

This is the one terribly painful part of Leadership, for it tears at the heart and leaves a searing hole. Those who willingly walk this path in the joyful company of a Dog, who strive to lead wisely and well, and do not flinch from the final responsibility to lead their charge out of this life when the time comes, are far finer and stronger creatures than he who speaks the words, “It’s just a dog”, for that one will never enjoy aid, comfort, nor friendship from us. The lesson that life is too short and precious to waste is hard won, but as hard as it is to endure, to have your calming voice be the last thing your trusty comrade ever hears is a gift that carries power beyond measure.

I’ve written of Dusty at length in my 11 July 2010 article called She Brought Me Her Worst Born, and if you haven’t read it, then I invite you to do that now. There, I told the story of how he came to be with me, a gift from Shadow, his mother. Shadow too is now long gone, but I will be forever grateful to her.

Dusty was the perfect dog. He just wanted love, fun, food, and to be included. Not a nasty bone in his body, throughout his life he more than once charmed self-professed “cat people” so that, if they didn’t love dogs, at least they loved him; and several others, who were fearful of large dogs, not only into accepting his attentions, but into actually enjoying snuggling with him. I also have photographic evidence that he could get a woman on her back faster than anybody I’ve ever known.

So tonight, sweet Dusty’s absence will leave the LFM Pack smaller by what feels to be much more than one, and while we may not reply immediately, Mrs. LFM and I invite comments here from anyone who had the honour of knowing Dusty, wish they had, or otherwise want to express their feelings.

An album of Dusty photos is up for your perusal on Facebook. Feel free to go and admire them. He loved to be admired.

The Swordmaster’s Grimoire, a wonderful blog written by Adam Crown, M.d’A. and Linda Wyatt, summed this up beautifully in an address to new fencing students at Cornell University:

You’ve all made it to Cornell – and a couple of you have made it through or almost through Cornell. I would therefore conclude that somewhere along the way, you’ve learned how to bullshit.
Maybe you convinced a teacher that the dog really did eat your homework.
Maybe you professed a hardship to get an extension on a deadline.
Maybe you convinced a teacher that he/she was your best teacher EVER, or that his/her subject was the most interesting.
Maybe you’ve passed exams without studying by playing the elimination game with multiple choice questions.
Maybe you filled papers with weasel words or just wrote what you knew your teacher wanted to hear, rather than what you actually thought. You dropped a few names, hit all the required buzzwords, threw in some choice quotes, whether you understood them or not. You included in the bibliography books you’d never actually read.
Maybe you faked whole classes by just skimming the textbook or reading someone else’s notes.
Maybe you learned how to kick that extra point by being “liked.”
Maybe you cut class to spend time with a lover and conned your teacher into believing you had to take care of a sick granny.
If you yourself didn’t do any of these things, you most certainly saw someone who did.
What you learned by it is that rules aren’t really rules, they’re just “guidelines” or suggestions. They’re only rules for SOME people. Not for the cute or the clever.
You learned that most rules you can bend way out of shape with little in the way of repercussions, and some you can break and get away with it. Some of that is because the rules are stupid and ought to be broken.
But some of it is because nobody says what they mean, means what they say or does what they say they’re going to do.
In short, you’ve learned that a substantial amount of the world is bullshit and if you excel at bullshit management yourself, you’ll do just fine.

But not here.
Not in the salle d’armes.
Not when you cross blades.
Maybe you can play that scene from “The Princess Bride,” to a T, reciting a litany of The Great Masters by heart: Marrozo, Viggiani, Agrippa, Capo Ferro and so on from Day One to Just Now. Maybe you can quote all their theories and ideas. Maybe you’ve even learned the appropriate Italian (or French) term for This ‘n’ That, assuming an accent reminiscent of Inspector Clouseau.
But when you take sword in hand, none of that academic puffery matters.
Not one bit.
You won’t be chatting.
Your opponent won’t be giving you a multiple-choice quiz.
But can you stand on guard, maintain your balance, line focus and distance?
Can you extend your sword arm swiftly, accurately and at the right moment?
Can you lunge – and can you recover in good order after you do?
And, above all, can you parry, small, tight and at the last possible instant?

When you cross blades with someone it will be obvious who you are, what you’re made of, and how well and how hard you’ve trained.
And you If you can do the thing, that will be clear, if you can’t do the thing, that will be clear, too and all the Kings horses and all the kings lawyers with all their impressive bullshit won’t be able to save you.

The real beauty of the fencing is that there’s just absolutely no room for bullshit.
It’s honest.
One of the most honest things you can do.
For many people, the most honest thing they will ever do.

And, of course, there’s no crying, either.

Many thanks to Uncle Jim Keating for bringing this to my attention. Now see what I mean and think on it as you go through the day, and every other day you have left.

Guillaume Herbaut photo. Source: http://www.popgive.com/2009/01/tough-ukrainian-girls.html

“I wanted girls to gain confidence to be themselves, and not just quiet wives working, working and swallowing all the time their own dreams….” ~ Katerina Tarnouska, founder of Asgarda

If you’ve spent any time here, you’ll know a couple of things. First, how much I appreciate strong, intelligent women; and second, that the foundation for the True Love Mrs. LFM and I have for each other is based, first and foremost, on mutual respect and admiration.  In the past year alone, there were three LFM items that spell that out -

• Mrs. LFM’s The Greatest Thing You’ll Ever Learn …, from 10 August 2011;
• My Dark Sentiments 2011 – Day 22: An Insidious Curse, from 22 October 2011; and
• My This Makes Me Happy, from 17 November 2011.

There’s lots more here in the same vein, but that selection will serve.

It’s always gratifying to learn that people in other far flung corners of the planet share our philosophy, and today I learned of an entire organization that does. Ladies and Gentlemen, meet the Ukrainian Asgarda movement.

In a part of the world where sexual slavery and abusive relationships are spectres that haunt women to a degree most here would find hard to grasp, and the current Prime Minister can publicly justify an entirely male cabinet on the grounds that, “Reforms do not fall into women’s competence,” thirty-seven year old Katerina Tarnouska formed Asgarda in 2004. Now, deep in the Carpathian Mountains, the martial arts of the Cossacks are practiced and taught by a group of women who will be nobody’s victim, and I tend to think that if one of these Ladies goes down, all the blood on the ground won’t be hers, and all her wounds will be in the front.

Some excellent journalism has already documented Asgarda, most notably Sally Howard’s piece titled Fight Club that appeared in the 12 September 2010 edition of The Telegraph, and the Popgive pictorial featuring the work of French photographer Guillaume Herbaut, a representative sample of which graces the top of this article. I encourage you all to use the links embedded herein to acquaint yourselves with Asgarda while, for reasons of our own, Mrs. LFM and I retire with a bottle of vodka to consider opening a branch office. I believe we can give the Girl Guides a run  for their money.

Source: http://bluebicicletta.wordpress.com/2011/05/20/get-back-on-the-horse-a-new-drawing-with-color/

Doers and Talkers

By LFM

The Doers and the Talkers
Are as a breed apart.
While Doers work and get things done,
The Talkers never start.

The Talker never does a thing
But bend the Doer’s ear,
The noise he makes comes from his mouth,
Not tools and working gear.

This happens from a simple cause -
A Talker doesn’t long
To join the Doers on their trail
Where Talkers don’t belong.

He sounds off with derision
When a better man is seen
To stumble time and time again
Pursuing “Might have been”.

But never will he lift a hand
To prove his “better” way.
His awesome skills he’ll hold in check
For use some future day.

My own reply, when Talkers call,
In person or by phone -
“Gather not your wool balls here.
“Piss off and find your own.”

Some day soon, Mrs. LFM and Laurie’s Lady Rita, will tolerate Laurie and me sitting by a fire all night inspiring each other to even worse inscriptions than this! The mind recoils at the thought!

Trails

by LFM

Every act, decision made,
Is ne’er a job that’s done.
Instead, it makes a path to tread
Down which your fate will run.

No matter how well planned your course,
However pinned and plotted,
Deciding to turn right or left
Affects how life’s allotted.

As life unfolds before your gaze,
And things come into view,
There’s risk you’ll trade a well lived life
For one that’s just lived you.

One trail may run both smooth and straight,
Through vistas wide and clear,
So most may choose that one before
The branch that’s dark and drear.

The one that weaves through gnarly woods,
‘Cross rivers needing fording,
With promise of adventure laced
And evils needing warding.

But they who seek the easy ways,
Those free from strife and test,
Will come to learn all gentle paths
Don’t lead to peace and rest.

What’s good in Life eludes the grasp
Of those who miss the fact
That what we get from living life
Springs from our every act.

Myself, I worry not about
The path on which I walk.
My care is for the place I AM,
And action before talk.

My every act, my every thought,
My every given damn;
My death will come, unflinching met
Quite happy where I am.

Once upon a time, in my neck of the woods, there was a now demised movie rental business called Blockhouse Video. Killed off by obsolescence born of technological advancements, in its day that establishment could be relied upon to maintain a wondrously comprehensive selection of B movies, and among them is the discovery I am presenting today.

Released in Brazil under the title A Grande Arte, and for the North American market as Exposure, this grim 1991 film features a subtlety of violence rarely seen in main stream cinema. There is no deafening gunfire in concert with endless car chases here, and while some characters are undeniably repositories of sadistic psychosis, the action unfolds free from the typical Hollywood “explanation” that often portrays the study of blade based combative arts as synonymous with insanity.

Starring Peter Coyote as Photographer Peter Mandrake, the story is based on a novel by Rubem Fonseca, and tells the tale of the photographer’s hunt for the killer of one of his models. The incomparable Tchéky Karyo – an LFM favourite – stars as Hermes, the man who teaches Mandrake the mysteries of the blade.

Specific technical issues for the sake of dramatic effect notwithstanding, I forgive them all, and got a special chuckle out of the hushed delivery and colourful claims of the knife dealer, whose wares adorn the lead in to this article. This film is granted a resounding LFM seal of approval.

]]> http://randy.whynacht.ca/archives/6760/feed 3 http://randy.whynacht.ca/archives/6736 http://randy.whynacht.ca/archives/6736#comments Fri, 06 Jan 2012 00:10:17 +0000 Randy http://randy.whynacht.ca/?p=6736

Another serendipitous discovery happened today by the name of FPS Russia. A self described “Professional Russian“, this guy doesn’t need anyone to do his talking for him so I’ll turn him loose with a couple of gems to show you what I mean. And like he says, don’t try any of these tricks at home.

Your friendly neighbourhood search team. This was taken by Mrs, LFM just after we successfully "rescued" her and her trusty companion Gunner. Milo is proudly proclaiming his awesomeness. (Click the picture to enlarge)

The way our work weeks are structured, field work in the service of clients runs from Friday through to Tuesday with Sunday usually taken for personal use, and Wednesday through to Thursday is reserved for administrative paperwork, writing and other creative pursuits, training and development of our own Pack, and quality us time.

Yesterday being Tuesday, we conducted a tracking exercise involving Mrs. LFM heading off into our local woods with Gunner, and me with Milo searching them out after giving them about a half hour start. The plan was for Mrs. LFM and Gunner to follow a circuitous route that I was not fully aware of because neither was Mrs. LFM, with the destination being some as yet unknown point along the river that runs for many kilometers from south to north along the western boundary of our well forested “back yard” before it empties into the LaHave River near Bridgewater. If Milo lost their scent trail, or I missed his cues and failed to react appropriately, the whole affair would rapidly devolve into dumb luck.

The start time was late afternoon, with the light waning as we neared sundown, very little to no wind, and temperatures at about +5 degrees Celsius. Milo started strong with nose down and tail up wagging furiously, indicating he was alerting to the scent trail exactly where it was deposited. We moved as fast as safety permitted and in his exuberance Milo overran the point where our quarry had veered right. Realizing that, he stopped and began to scent the air in a process called “casting”. When it became obvious to me what had happened, I led him back to the last place I had seen him with a solid lock, and deployed him again. This time he continued to cast, and began to check trees and scrub growth for captured scent as he led me into the area I later learned Mrs LFM and Gunner had traversed, although we were starting about 10 meters west of their actual track, converging with it. In this segment, Milo took his time and continued to get scent confirmations off vertical surfaces where particulates blown off of Mrs. LFM and Gunner had travelled on what little breeze there was to be captured in the crevices of rough bark and stones.

Crossing a small stream, he suddenly alerted again, and soon we were scrambling up a Pine needle carpeted hillside and over scrapes left by feet sliding by someone else ascending. Reaching a game path at the top of the hill, Milo led me down it and, still with complete assurance, veered westward. we continued that way for another ten minutes or so before we cut across another trail used by some local off road bicyclists with a death wish. He led me north along that until he once again overran the scent and started combining casting and checking upright surfaces, with peering into the woods. This peering suggested he suspected by the concentration of scent that our quarry was nearby.

We went back up the trail to the last confirmed lock-on where I deployed him again, and this time we continued down the trail until Milo slowed and moved off it to the west. He continued to lead me slowly through the undergrowth using scent entangled in it to guide him until we cut an old logging road running parallel to the river. There he veered north, and we made our way another 50 to 60 meters before he clearly overran the airborm scent he was following and decided on his own to double back along the downwind side of the road. I later learned Mrs. LFM and Gunner had also doubled back on that very trail before descending to the river which explains why a strong scent marker suddenly dwindled – but Milo was onto them! We could clearly hear the river at this point, and a short time after doubling back, Milo led me down the steep eastern embankment of the ravine through which the river runs. He seemed calm, focused and certain, and just as I noted this change in his demeanor, through the trees I spotted Mrs. LFM sitting with Gunner on the riverbank about 50 meters directly ahead of us. So intent was Milo on the scent trail that he didn’t actually see them until Gunner couldn’t stand it anymore and began to bark.

I’ll be doing more here this year on the subject of dogs and tracking. In the mean time, stay found.

Mrs. LFM with her other protector, Gunner, just the way we found them. (Click the picture to enlarge)

If you’ve gotten far enough to read this after Mrs. LFM’s title photo, and if you believe the hype, the year just ended will also mark the end of the calendar printing industry because 2012 is it. Well, Mrs. LFM and I have appointments the day after Armageddon so that shit’s not on for us. Our sign stays out – Business as usual.

In the mean time, here’s some (more) eye candy of the LFM kind from our adventures on and off the job in 2011. You may wish to have a look, or you may just want to pour yourself a drink and go back to reread the title a couple hundred more times. Most pictures will enlarge when you click them, but no matter how many times you click the title picture, that blacked out area will stay where it is.

January:

We watched 2012 and found it so bad it took Mrs. LFM and me 4 litres of wine to get through it. Bruce’s face tells the tale. I should also point out that he’s facing away from the TV, and I don’t think it’s just a cute accident he’s covering his nose.

Bruce came to be fostered here until our dog Milo adopted him. Here’s Milo with his dog Bruce.

Old Dusty investigating the inexplicable terra cotta head that sits on the northern border of our place.

On 17 January we mourned the loss of German Shepherd Dog magnificence personified when Alf vom Garreler Esch, also known as Alf, went to sleep for the last time. A perpetual flame will always burn for him here.

Magnificent Alf (Sullivan photo)

Robbie ready to go to work.

If you’re going to abuse drugs, do your research and get it right! Found in a client’s basement.

February:

Dusty frisking in the snow. In the time since this picture was taken, Dusty has slowed down a lot. It’s a bittersweet thought to realize he probably will not see another summer.

A Stargate Room we encountered in our travels.

March:

In the years we’ve been together, we’ve both seen more rainbows than either of us have seen before. It doesn’t appear in this picture with the vibrance it had to the naked eye, but the bar of light on the “Bayers Road West” sign in this picture was a perfect one, and we never did identify the source.

Lots of plucked deer hair, and no deer.

Sacred site in Kejimkujik National Park. Note the deer flagrantly defying the sign.

Our first spring scouting trip to Kejimkujik for the year.

Milo also investigating the terra cotta head. Perspective was not his friend in this picture.

Burning the Birch bark in memory of Mrs. LFM’s late father, Ryszard Kleszczynski.

Cooking dinner in one of the shelters at Kejimkujik Park.

Big old Pine in the woods near our house.

April:

April 2011 was a benchmark month because it marked the first time ever that an article written by an invited guest contributor appeared in LFM. The crust was broken by Eric Noeldechen with To Be Or Not To Be on 17 April which was well received, and we hope Eric gets riled up again from time to time so he can enlighten and entertain us all further.

Eric E. Noeldechen in the field.

We had been hearing the nocturnal calls of a mating pair of owls around our house for weeks before we found where they lived.

Dusty on the road, headed to meet Selina, Pit Bull Momma and official stylist to the Large Fierce Mammals.

LFM birthday breakfast, lovingly crafted by Mrs. LFM.

LFM birthday hike including the worthy Peter Thompson.

Mrs. LFM with Robbie, official hiking dog of the 2011 LFM birthday hike in Kejimkujik National Park.

I was feeling peckish.

Beaver lodge.

Us LFM’s on yet another jaunt a couple days after the birthday hike.

The cove at the end of Peter Point in Kejimkujik Park.

Minnie our adventuring Min Pin.

May:

Ironic that for Mrs. LFM to get this picture, a fox was stalking a fox.

An assembly of LFM pack members on our stairs. Left to right: Ailsa, Minnie, Milo, Gunner, Bruce, and Robbie.

Results of heavy spring precipitation on the river in our back forty. It ran like that all summer.

Robbie drying off after his first swim of the season.

Our niece Alyssa – AKA Niece LFM – getting some LFM oversight at a concert.

Practicing for future pub crawls.

Stylin’ Niece LFM.

June:

Swanky cosmetic refreshment stations in the ladies’ washrooms at Moxie’s in Dartmouth Crossing. Mrs. LFM declared the facilities to be nicer than the dining rooms in some restaurants.

More washroom. It may not seem like a big deal but that’s a lot of attention to detail so people have a nice place to pee. In most places, the washroom is an afterthought, and if you’re lucky, it’s a clean afterthought.

This next picture shows the state of the security control panel in a client’s premises after the client’s father had attempted to silence the siren in the wake of a lightning strike. It appears he got a little carried away because our report to the client after she notified us her phone no longer worked included, in part:

A summary of the degree to which the panel had been disassembled includes:

• The nylon latch that holds the cabinet closed had been removed from the cabinet.
• The control board had been detached from its mounting lugs and left hanging by the few wires that were still attached to it.
• Nearly all the wiring that had been attached to the control board had been removed, including the telephone cable and the power transformer cable which was still live and uncovered.
• The standby battery had been removed from the cabinet.
• Where system wiring had been junctioned inside the cabinet, every junction had been taken apart.
• Two of the four mounting screws used to hold the cabinet on the wall had been partially removed.

Earrings spotted in a client’s store that became what Mrs. LFM referred to as, “An awesomely hilarious spontaneous gift.”

Dusty in Kejimkujik Park. He’s past the days of hiking, but he still enjoys a good outdoorsy saunter!

Gunner’s IV, made necessary by sudden onset of an inability to ingest anything and keep it down for more than a few minutes. His bowel had been shocked by something – we never found out what but in view of his habit of grazing on foliage we presume something green didn’t agree with him – causing it to shut down and reject anything that entered his GI tract. He needed transport to our vet daily for IV fluids and observation, then home every evening until it passed. That was one hell of a tense week.

The shining moment of Gunner’s first bowel movement at the end of his illness. Some of you may never understand the sheer joy this event brought to our house.

The LFM scythe arrives and lies assembled on our kitchen floor where Milo eyes it dubiously. Fear not the blade for it has a guard on it, and everybody’s calm. We love this thing, and you can’t have just one! Its snath length is perfect for the hillside that is our “lawn”.

The concentrated cuteness of Robbie waiting to embark on a canoe trip,

The first canoe trip of 2011 in the wake of a weird but enlightening overnight hospital stay.

A firefly caught in a spider’s web near our back door. We don’t intervene in Nature’s affairs.

July:

Swimming with an Australian Cattle Dog is more fun than swimming with dolphins and seals combined, and marginally safer than swimming with sharks.

Peter Thompson paddling his way to glory on our Canada Day visit to the waterways of Kejimkujik National Park.

Mmmmm … mermaid fresh from the water ….

The canoeist’s view of the beautiful Mersey River.

The walls may have ears, but the trees have eyes.

Seems legit.

OK, now it’s making sense.

Awaiting the ministrations of the inimitable Selina of Selina’s Hair Creations, where you can get as much Pit Bull and Pug lovin’ as you can handle, all at no extra charge!

August:

River rat Minnie.

We attended the first ever “Bully Pride” event in Dartmouth, which was launched to counter the unfavourable publicity directed at bull dog type dog breeds. Never was there a more calm assembly of dogs in one place. Sadly, the event was under publicized and under attended which will hopefully change next year.

We never miss a chance to interact with an Australian Cattle Dog – here it’s Sophie.

Milo on the job with us in Dartmouth.

This turned up in the store room of a local restaurant. For Christ’s sake, don’t open that bag!

Mallie, the senior Jack Russell Terrier who is being fostered with us right now for rehab, and will be going up for adoption in the next few months.

September:

Exorcism of a major league asshole – former operator of a local eating establishment. We had boots on the ground and surveillance in place to ensure a cocky bully behaved himself while removing what belonged to him. He got mouthy – once – but decided he wanted his stuff more than getting his dick measured and found wanting.

Mallie using her brain with the Nina Ottosson Tornado.

Test driving our Kelly Kettle while modeling some new kit.

The LFM fire pit in flames.

September marked the month my 2008 story about my encounter with a spectral little girl appeared in John Robert Colombo’s latest collection of creepiness, Jeepers Creepers.

Latest from Canada's "Master Collector" J. R. Colombo! Go and buy it!

We decided this year to vacation someplace warm. We chose Hell, and confirmed that the back door really is locked from the inside!

Medicine man Laurie Lacey with Rita Baruss in a picture taken on our medicine walk with them. We anticipate many more!

Mrs. LFM’s awe inspiring from the back as it is, and then add a splash of colour – a masterpiece! No My Little Ponies were harmed in Selina’s creation of this colour.

We found Tangled Garden while on the job, but took time out to go deep into the actual garden, just so we could kiss there.

October:

How appropriate for October – a small cemetery on an island in Lunenburg County. Two halves containing graves from two clans who apparently hated each other so much that, even in death, they need an earthwork to keep them separated.

Autumn twilight. The real kind not involving sparkly pouty vampires that look like they’re constantly in need of a shower.

Bruce loving Kejimkujik Park.

The gift of a fine blade is always appreciated, and Mrs. LFM now sports a shiny new Benchmade 211 Activator courtesy of Gary Carbone.

A professional martial arts teacher, Gary is a loyal LFM fan and soon to be contributor here. He gifted us the knife in appreciation for assistance we gave him with his rescued Pit Bull, Bodhi, who suffered from separation anxiety. Word is all are doing fine and we look forward to Gary’s wisdom gracing these pages! Here’s a picture of Gary and Bodhi, and you know, a man could do worse picking a photo to go with his bio on our LFM Contributors page!

(Gary Carbone photo)

The knife fits Mrs. LFM’s hand like it was made for her so it was natural that this fine steel grace the hip of the finest of women.

In keeping with the way we roll, Mallie has gotten her share of wilderness adventure. This was her first lengthy foray, and was probably the most fun she ever had in her life up to that point.

Robbie playing the role of a prospector’s dog on the Gold Mines Trail in Kejimkujik Park.

November: Alas, everything was a blur in November, and aside from the articles posted herein during that month, nothing of consequence was photographed … at least nothing you’re allowed to see.

December:

Marilyn Munroe said, “If you can make a girl laugh, you can make her do anything.” She was right. Here we are at the fund raiser for the Shelter for Helpless Animals in Distress (SHAID) hosted by Tomorrow’s Lounge. Over $600.00 was raised, which may not sound like much, but in the animal rescue biz, we squeeze every penny until the Queen has tears in her eyes.

Mrs. LFM’s sister … which would make her Sister LFM, mother of Niece LFM … in the act of serving us drinks. The theme asked people to dress like cats or dogs. We also had one raccoon show up, and we LFM’s came dressed as dog handlers.

Since we started this dog and pony show back in 2008, the LFM readership has continued to grow each year, and 2011 was no different. Many thanks to those who contributed to our success by sharing articles and items from here on assorted blogs and forums, and extra special thanks to Master At Arms James (AKA “Uncle Jim”) Keating for linking LFM output regularly on his e-zine Maajak World. Jim’s support alone has resulted in connections with like minded large fierce mammals all over the world, and continues to do so.

The Skrælingibók – The Saga of a Skræling is moving ahead, and this year will see publication of three ebooks, all of which will be available for purchase on our Downloads page – A Collection of Dark Sentiments (predominantly poetry embellished with appropriate art work and previously unpublished material), The Large Fierce Mammal’s Small But Weighty Book of Etiquette, and an as yet untitled piece on the subject of ethics in hunting and gathering as done the LFM way. Naturally, in addition to all that, our loyal readers can look forward to another twelve months of the usual piquant LFM fare, plus some additional assaults on the senses courtesy of the Large Fierce Mammal YouTube Channel.

So one well used year wraps up and another lies ahead. We aren’t the types to go into it with New Year resolutions – we are simply resolute, as always, and recommend you all be the same.

Thanks for watching and stay tuned!

Now let’s let the boys – Tom Cochrane, Paul Hyde & Murray McLauchlan – take it from here. And to Sarge’s family, “May our eyes be clear, and our hearts be strong.” See you soon.