Mystery of dogs leaping to their death in Dumbarton Scotland. I wonder if this is the bridge, lately renamed Rover's Leap.
(Another mystery is the way people respond to this as a quirky launching pad for jokes. I don't have a high humour threshold when it comes to sad dog stories)
(via J walk)
Comments: canine mystery
Not the spot to take Spot.
Posted by Francis Xavier Holden at March 12, 2005 03:57 PM
What rotter would make gags about that? I mean, who on earth would find anything funny in scottish dogs committing suicide by jumping off bridges?
There is nothing remotely funny in ...
See Spot run.
See Spot jump.
Posted by Tony.T at March 12, 2005 04:24 PM
There is incredible pathos in the idea that dogs do 'em-selves in, but I suspect it is highly unlikely. They probably suffer more existential angst then most other animals, which is probably related to the bonds they have developed with us sicko humans but I think the innate will to live is something that only truly disturbed human have the ability to subsume in a mix of imaginings about perceived dire situations. (Mind you these may be real situations, but given time and a change of view, such perceptions change too.
(I'll wait for someone to prove me wrong and say something about lemmings).
Posted by Link at March 13, 2005 10:31 AM
PS - such a nice looking bridge too.
Posted by Link at March 13, 2005 10:32 AM
I am extremely sensitive to the needs of all creatures G&S, Dogs in particular.
The noblest dog is the hot dog, it feeds the hand that bites it.
If Dog is God, Mugabe is a Yorky.
Posted by John Leonard Spencer at March 13, 2005 12:09 PM
I don't think the suicide theory makes sense either, and would be looking for the rational before the paranormal explanation- but may keep an open mind about the latter, while keeping spot on a lead.
Actually there is more on the Bridge and some pics if you take the virtual Tour of the estate.
Posted by boynton at March 13, 2005 09:31 PM
Squirrels in the trees? Trees below the bridge?
The Overtoun one doesn't look overtly deceptive though.
It may be a tabloid construct with less of a direct relationship to the truth than the colorless print makes it appear.
Spirits in conflict. No really. Demonic spirits, like in the Bible - cast away the demons into some hapless creatures and over they go. Those Gadarene collies.
Dogs are telepathically receptive. I don't care who says what. And like people it varies from animal to animal.
Some creepy little goth revenant sending its brain waves into them. For kicks.
Lemmings, by the by, don't do what they're purported to; they do migrate, in swarms and droves, but not blindly over precipices.
Less seriously apt, though serious just the same:
If those Americans were moving in, I'd consider jumping, I'd flee, I'd do anything to get away from them. As also I would if possible here, where I am now and they are also, here, now.
How creepy that cultish non-entities prosper in these parlous times, and move their dull wits into architecture they can never really own, and certainly could never have built themselves, lacking the grace to create it.
Posted by Ajax at March 14, 2005 10:26 AM
Posted by Rover at March 14, 2005 01:01 PM
I believe dogs are receptors too. A labrador I knew used to get 'spooked' each time she walked through a certain arbor in the Botanic gardens, (in a precinct with a lot of ghost stories.) Who knew what was there, but she acted as if she saw something. May have been the territorial markings of a dog she didn't fancy.
I do like your "Some creepy little goth revenant sending its brain waves into them. For kicks" theory.
& the creepiness certainly warrants consideration.
Posted by boynton at March 14, 2005 01:06 PM
hope Rover doesn't
you for your scorn.
Posted by boynton at March 14, 2005 01:12 PM
Must be the divine wind in the Willows, or a Nip in the air, Banzai!! Bonzo.
Posted by John Leonard S pencer at March 14, 2005 10:47 PM
Doggone!! Barked Capt Bone on the Bridge, as he and his dog tired sea dogs doggedly gazed in horror, as the Kamikaze kelpies Sue & Sid; Zeroing in, came fleaing down to fight the Dogfish in the growling waters below.
Posted by John Leonard Spencer at March 15, 2005 11:46 AM
Cool comment by J L S. 14th inst, must be an old guy to remember that stuff, an old sea dog maybe.
Posted by dave dagenham at March 18, 2005 08:17 PM
Yes Dave, he certainly was, I read about him, he remembered the carnage that once dogged him.
Posted by David at March 20, 2005 02:32 PM
Yes, anyone who cracks cheap jokes about airborne self-carking canines deserves to be hounded by the Basketballs.
On a heavier note, the first time I cried about something that didn't directly involve me getting hurt or not getting my way, was when I discovered my dad trying to secretly dispose (he had the best intentions -wanting to spare me and my brother, five and three years old respectively the sight) of Neddy, a hearty carefree mongrel built along heeler/terrier lines who was one of the gang until he met a ton of metal travellng at 50k in the other direction.
Since then I've buried a few other animal mates and now with a stiff upper lip. But it never gets easier.
Incidentally, have they thought about putting a webcam overlooking the bridge in question? T
Posted by Nabakov at March 20, 2005 08:33 PM
A sad tale about Neddy. I have a dozen from childhood concerning ill-fated dogs, some involving that ton-of-metal variety.
Would the webcam pick up the "creepy little goth revenant" and its brainwaves?
Or the inner turmoil of the unleashed?
Or the scent/sudden movement of the rational explanation?
Posted by boynton at March 20, 2005 09:21 PM
Hi Nab. When our last bow wow carked, as you so delicately put it, the local Priest refused to say a few words over his grave. For $200-00 the Presby minister did the job. When the dog collared priest found out how much was paid , he screamed "Why the bloody hell did you not tell me your dog was a Catholic".
I believe JL's involvement was more relevant to operation iceberg 1945
MS Boynton. I have buried many Dogs over the years ,some of them sea dogs, ex K G V, 3.5 years.
Reading your posts, I find you are a bit of a luvvy duvvy sensitive lady, can't go wrong there.
Posted by Dave at March 21, 2005 08:25 AM
Nabokov. The fact you mentioned Self Carking Cannines; jokingly. would indicate you too deserve to be castigated. Sounds like basket balls could be painful, for men who may have them.
Checked up on Op Iceberg, not my type of holiday cruise, ties in with the Divine wind in the willows Banzai thing. Nasty stuff.
Posted by Gorgia at March 21, 2005 11:36 AM
Sweet Georgia. Op Iceberg was no lollipop, being exposed on the A D P of the flag ship; a prime target for weeks on end, the endless brown trouser syndrome for me; then only eighteen, has taught how to appreciate being alive, maybe I was blessed by a divine wind, thousands were not.
Posted by Dave at March 22, 2005 08:40 PM
Just to clarify my earlier comment, a family joke was never letting me forget that once (through a slip of tongue as a little tacker, honest), I started dissertating away on a long car journey about that classic Sherlock Holmes story, "The Hound of The Basketballs." while everyone else kept a straight face throughout, the bastards.
My mum will still remind me of that to this day when she thinks I'm getting too bumptious.
Posted by Nabakov at March 22, 2005 08:54 PM
Nab: We were all such sweet kids, sometimes we were horrid monsters. When a misdemeanour sent me to the Doghouse, Fido was always there to console me and lick away my tears, Ah.
Posted by Dave at March 22, 2005 09:30 PM