For some strange reason, dozens of dogs have jumped to their deaths off Overtoun Bridge, a 50-foot high span near the Scottish town of Dumbarton.
Some claim the bridge is haunted. Some postulate (ridiculously) that dogs crossing it are suddenly overcome with suicidal urges. Others blame the minks who live below.
It is believed between 50 and 100 dogs have jumped to their deaths from the bridge in the last five decades — five during one six-month span in 2005.
The latest to make the leap, a springer spaniel named Cassie, survived, the Daily Mail reported this week.
Alice Trevorrow, 50, was walking Cassie across Overtoun Bridge when the dog jumped over a parapet and disappeared from her sight.
“I will never forget the awful whine she made as she leapt,” said Trevorrow, a nurse. “My heart just dropped. I have no idea how she survived, the bridge is so high. I was almost certain that she had died.”
Trevorrow and her son Thomas ran to the edge, looked over and saw three-year-old Cassie struggle to her feet.
She said the dog suffered only a pulled muscle in a hind leg.
Only one other dog has been known to survive after leaping off the 19th century span that some, including the makers of a documentary about it, have dubbed “Dog Suicide Bridge.”
The Daily Mail says the Scottish SPCA has sent an animal habitat expert to investigate why dogs leap off the bridge, which about as high as a four-story building.
The most logical sounding explanation is that dogs are detecting the scent of the minks who live below and, in their enthusiasm, leaping off the bridge to investigate.
Posted by John Woestendiek July 3rd, 2014 under Muttsblog.
Tags: animals, bridge, cassie, dog suicide bridge, dogs, dumbarton, haunted, minks, mystery, overtoun, pets, scotland, scottish, springer spanie, strange, suicide, suicide bridge, wildlife
It began in Coos Bay and ended in Gold Beach, and in between it was just plain weird, a day in which everything was slightly off, as if I was in some parallel universe — when actually it was just the coast of southern Oregon.
Like our previous days driving down Oregon’s coast, it was magically beautiful, but dotted in spots with a thick fog that obscured not just the view, but seemingly every human I ran into. Was it just me? You decide.
We left Coos Bay at noon, not sure how far we would drive. We passed through Bandon, a touristy town that seemed normal enough.
Later, seeing Cape Blanco State Park — and remembering that it is supposedly the last place to see the sun set in the 48 contiguous states — we decided to hang around for it, and seek lodgings in the next town, Port Orford.
Before we got there, we crossed a bridge over the Elk River. It was lined with cars — fishermen I assumed. But nobody was fishing. Instead all the people were leaning over the bridge railing, looking down. As it turns out, salmon were spawning, and maybe, when salmon spawn, humans — in some yet to be discovered cycle of nature — get a little strange, too.
I enjoyed a fine breakfast in Port Orford and talked to a man whose dog fell out of his truck.
Jake was his name — the dog, not the man — and he sat stoically in the rain in the bed of a Dodge pickup truck as his owner enjoyed chicken fried steak and eggs.
The dog’s owner was nice enough to recommend a dog friendly motel, so after breakfast I headed there, going up a road that promised, in big letters — really big letters — an ocean view. It wasn’t lying.
At the end of it, I turned right into the Hotel Castaway, I went into the office and attempted to confirm it was dog friendly. A vacuum cleaner was running in the back room, but eventually a man stepped out.
“What kind of dog?” he asked.
“A mutt,” I answered, fearing the breeds that make up Ace — Rottweiler, Akita, Chow and pitbull — might give him the wrong impression.
“A mix of what?” he asked.
“Different breeds,” I answered.
There was a long pause, and then he said, “Smoking?”
I told him a smoking room would be fine, but wasn’t a necessity.
“None of our rooms are smoking,” he said.
Finally, he quoted me a price — $79, which included a dog fee.
Charming as the place was, it was over my limit, so I headed to a second place that had been mentioned at breakfast. The sign on the door said closed, but the door was unlocked, so I stood in the office for five minutes. When no one showed up, I went to another motel, two buildings down. It was closed as well.
Back in the car I noticed another motel, the Port Orford Inn, which has a sign saying “pet friendly.” It also has signs saying “for sale” and “for rent.” It was a run-down looking place, with some of its windows boarded up.
The office was locked tight, so I approached two guys in the parking lot, who were loading their car up for a fishing trip.
“Do they rent rooms here?” I asked.
“Are you a fisherman?” one of them responded.
“No,” I said. “Is that a requirement?”
They explained that the motel was all but abandoned. There was a handyman who watched over it, but he wasn’t around. They stay there when they come to fish, apparently on a help-yourself, semi-squatting basis.
The man on the floor said I could stay with him in his room for $10.
“If you don’t mind kinking it, you could stay here. I could used the ten dollars for beer.”
Not knowing what “kinking it” was, I wasn’t sure whether I would mind it or not. My guess is he meant something similar to roughing it, but — not being sure, and not wanting to make a commitment to kinking it — I begged off, using Ace as an excuse. “Thanks, but you probably don’t want a dog in your room.”
He said that would be no problem, and sweetened the deal by saying the guys who were going out fishing would probably be coming back with some salmon we could eat. As I declined again, a few other people came out of rooms, and it seemed all of them had a strange look in their eyes — vacant and intense at the same time.
We departed and drove back up to Cape Blanco, passing some sheep with blue polka dots, to the very edge of the continent — to watch the sun not set.
After that, we kept heading south, passing through Humbug Mountain State Park, where the rain, fog and darkness, coupled with sheer cliffs, made driving tense.
Reaching Gold Beach, we opted for the Sand Dollar Inn, which proved to be both affordable and dog friendly and promised (but never delivered, at least not by 9 a.m.) a continental breakfast.
Before going into my room, I walked Ace up a road, where we encountered not one, but two black cats. They both crossed our path.
Back at my room, we encountered the man staying in the room next door. He wore shorts and a black t-shirt with a motorcycle on it. He liked standing inches away from the person he was talking to, and he liked to talk. His head was shaved and covered with nicks and his words — though I tried hard to make sense of them — made little. Interspersed with some understandable phrases were allusions to other things, and he frequently lapsed into a stream of consciousness babble.
“Why’d they try to do it, man? Why’d they try to accuse me of rape? Lucky dog with a cloth around his throat. He loves you. Why’d they try and do it man? Forty-seven Harley. Volkswagen bus. Like Bonnie and Clyde. Why’d they try to do it man. I love you, brother. You’re old. I’m old. Why’d they try and do it, man?”
He looked to be in his 40’s and, except for when he took a sip from his can of beer, his monologue was continual, and showed no signs of letting up.
I apologized and told him I had some things I needed to do, but that I’d come out and smoke a cigarette with him later.
Instead, I fell asleep, assured that nothing I could dream would be any weirder than the day had already been.
Posted by John Woestendiek November 18th, 2010 under Muttsblog.
Tags: ace, animals, behavior, bizarre, cape blanco, coast, coastal oregon, coos bay, dog, dog friendly, dog's country, dogs, dogscountry, fishermen, fishing, gold beach, hells angels, human, lodging, motels, ocean view, oregon, pets, pickup truck, polka dotted sheep, port orford, road trip, salmon, spawning, strange, sunset, tourism, travel, traveling with dogs, travels with ace
Leave it to us to be in Arizona when the big news is in North Carolina.
Fearing for the safety of his “dawgs,” a rural North Carolina man called 911 to report he’d had a confrontation with Bigfoot; and the one-sided, slightly slurred conversation with the dispatcher that ensued is worthy of the 911 call Hall of Fame.
Authorities in Cleveland County released a recording of the call, made by Tim Peeler, who claimed to have sighted a 9-to-10 foot tall Bigfoot around his home near Casar.
The area, known as Carpenter’s Knob, is the site of repeated sightings of a similar creature in the 1970s, who locals eventually took to calling “Knobby.”
In the call, Peeler describes a “beast thing” whose presence got his dogs a barkin’.
Operator: What did it look like?
Peeler: It looked like a giant ape with a man’s face. But I was afraid to kill it. And it made a whistling sound. But I just wanted ya’ll to know, I have not shot one or killed one.
Operator: Okay, was there more than one or just the one?
Peeler: Just the one.
Peeler: He was about nine, ten foot tall. With real long arms. And…I’ve had experiences with ’em before in the deer stand. but this one, somehow, I go out there, it gets gone, I come back in the house it gets there again. And my dog’s is just raising… heck.
At one point he asks, “Would I get in any trouble if I shot and killed this beast? This animal or whatever it is? Would I get in any trouble?”
Throughout the call, Peeler seems most concerned about his dogs.
“I got bear dawg, hog dawgs, this thing for some reason tonight is comin’ down messin with my dawgs, tryin’ to get towards my back porch.”
Cleveland County is located west of Charlotte, in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, an area that’s no stranger to moonshine. We’re not saying Tim’s brewing his own, but … still. Maybe we’ll try and stop for a visit on our way back east.
Posted by John Woestendiek June 21st, 2010 under Muttsblog.
Tags: 9-1-1, 911, animals, audio, bigfoot, call, cleveland county, dawgs, dogs, emergency, knobby, moonshine, news, north carolina, pets, phone, police, recording, sighting, strange, telephone, transcript, video, weird
Debbie Dalton’s Chihuahua is buzzing — and she has no idea why.
Frankie emits what sounds like high-pitched radio signals from his ears, the Associated Press reports.
Dalton’s home in Geneva, Ohio has eleven dogs, but Frankie, she says, stands out from the others, something she realized a couple of months ago.
“Frankie’s walking along the back of the sofa and I got closer and closer and I said ‘Oh my goodness …it’s the dog that’s buzzing.'”
Dalton says the noise doesn’t seem to bother Frankie, and it helps her when she loses track of Frankie outside. All she has to do is listen.
Her vet has no idea what the problem is, says Dalton, who’d like to see it solved.
“(When) he’s sleeping facing me, I have to move because i can hardly hear the TV.”
Posted by John Woestendiek October 17th, 2008 under Muttsblog.
Tags: buzzing, chihuahua, dog, dogs, ears, frankie, geneva, high-pitched sound, news, ohio, pets, radio signal, strange, unusual