In the other videos I have seen, the dog appears to enjoy this game with his human. The dog shows no real aggressive behavior other than barring his teeth. He doesn’t try to bite the humans face even though he is only inches away.
Other videos are available on YouTube: Beatbox Dog. I could find no other information.
The dogs have no bearing on the story.
I am standing by the apparatus bay door holding a cup of coffee. It’s 0600 and I’m zoning out, staring up the hill at all the houses. Our fire station is located on a hillside in a primarily residential part of the city. If you stand on the sidewalk in front of the station you would never believe you are in a major city.
We hadn’t been real busy that night. We did go out for a noisy drunk at around 0400. Although, when we pulled up and he saw us, he jumped up and took off running. Over a berm in a vacant lot. Down an alley gaining speed and then he was gone. That’s a lot of energy for a drunk dude.
Bill was in the back with me. He had already gotten out and was jumping up and down and waving at the guy.
“Dude. Dude, we are here to help you,” he yells, while laughing so hard he’s about to lose all muscle control. “Come back. Come back.”
I come running around the back of the rig with all our medical kits. Since I sit on the right side of the fire engine, I get to carry the first aid kit, the lifepack, and the oxygen kit. I am seriously equipped to save some lives.
I see Bill waving his arms and laughing hysterically.
“Where is our patient?” I yell.
Bill turns towards me and points vaguely behind him.
“He went that-away,” and starts laughing harder.
We get back on the engine. The Captain is shaking his head. By this time we’ve been together as a crew for the past 20 hours.
We get back to the station and it’s about 0430. Everyone goes back to bed except me. Just not tired and I got a crappy uncomfortable roll away bed in the back hallway. I am working in the worst fire station in the city.
In my fire department, we are on a many year plan to improve the fire stations. Most of them have either been upgraded or rebuilt. We will be the last. Even before the improvement plan, we were considered the worst fire station in the department.
All of the stations now have a private place for each on duty member to sleep. No more bunk rooms. In our station, the Captain has an office with a bed. There is also a second small room with a bed. The driver sleeps in the watch office, where the radios, the telephones and the front door are.
As built, our station has the perfect setup for a three person crew. Except, our department switched to four person crews many years ago. So, the fourth person (me) gets to sleep on a roll away bed in the back hallway.
In the apparatus bay our behemoth is parked in the center. It carries 450 gallons of water and 50 gallons of foam. Two 200’ bundles of 1.75” firefighting hose, one on each side of the engine. Both are connected to the pump panel and can be filled with water with the pull of a single lever. 600’ of 2.5” hose that can be used if there is very heavy fire. That hose comes out the back. There is also 1000’ of 5” supply hose to connect to the hydrant and/or other rigs. It also comes out the back. Like I said, it’s a big engine.
Back to the story. I look out the apparatus door and up the hill, past the houses, at the very tippy-top, which is about four blocks away. At the top, I see a beautiful orange glow.
In my line of work, an orange glow is not considered a good thing. Especially not at 0600 on a fall morning. I narrow my eyes for a microsecond, trying to get the fuzz out of my brain. I quickly wake up our driver to take a look-see as I start putting on my firefighting gear.
He hits the station alerter getting everyone else up. Hitting the station alerter also causes Dispatch to immediately call on the land line wanting to know what is going on. He tells them we have smoke visible from a single family residence and we are responding to investigate.
As the apparatus bay door opens he is already climbing into the rig. The Captain is getting in on the other side. In the back, Bill and I are sitting down and putting on our air packs. From the time our driver saw the fire to him driving us out the door less than one minute has elapsed.
We pull up in front of the house. It is definitely on fire. There is a large volume of smoke coming from the roof. From my side, I have an easy shot at the front door, so I get out and grab the 200’ firefighting hose. Bill grabs our tools and breaks open the front door. Large amounts of smoke roll out through the open door.
I can hear the Captain on the radio giving a report to dispatch, “We are investigating a large volume of smoke from a single family residence. We are taking a line through the front door. We request a full response.”
A full response will give us three more engine companies, two truck companies, two battalion chiefs, a medic unit, and an air rig. All of them will be coming from different parts of the city. All of them should arrive here within the next 10 minutes ready to fight them some fire.
As the hose line fills with water, I put on my face piece and turn on my air pack. Bill tells me he is going to make a quick look recon around the house. He’ll catch up to me.
I bleed the hose line and go through the door and crawl into the smoke. I can’t see shit. Oddly, it doesn’t seem very hot either, so I stand up. I run deeper into the house, dragging the hose line behind me.
I am now looking for that glow that signifies the root of the fire. In the zero visibility I crash into the back wall of the living room. I am now on my back, on the floor, doing an upside down turtle impression.
I look around me, and to my left I see an orange glow in the smoke. I scramble up and drag the hose line that way. I stumble into another room and there it is. The fire. On the floor is a small wooden tile that has fallen from the ceiling and is burning furiously. I stomp it with my boot.
I speak into my radio, “Command, this is Engine Team A. I have a tapped bathroom fire. Request fans to clear out the smoke.”
I have just put out the fire entirely by myself.
It was a poorly installed heat lamp left on to dry the cute handmade cedar squares that made up the ceiling and the walls. The cute and very dry handmade cedar squares that combusted due to the heat from the heat lamp being on. It appeared that the tiles burned very hot then just went out by themselves. All except for one tile that dropped to the floor.
The house was unoccupied and empty. It was being remodeled. Two years later we went to the same house on an aid call. While we were waiting for the transport ambulance, we got to tell the owners what we did at their house that morning.
The Largest steam-powered tractor in operation is, the '150 HP Case' and weighs 34,000 kg (75,000 lb). It was constructed by Anderson Industries (USA), in Webster South Dakota, USA, in 2018. It is an exact replica of the original 1905 model, built from the original plans. Only 9 were built between 1905 and 1907, and none survived. The tractor is pulling a John Deere 44 bottom plow.
Oil tanker Energy Endurance was struck by a rogue wave. The hull plates 60-70 feet above the water's surface were buckled or peeled back. (1981)
Dogs are included.
All pictures analyzed by TruthAI.
Just like the title sez. Gentleman with room level IQ not really thinking it through.
Dire Straits - Sultans Of Swing (1978)
Thank you for the award.
Residents of Sitka, Alaska were alarmed when the long dormant volcano neighboring them, Mount Edgecumbe, suddenly began to belch out billows of black smoke. People spilled out of their homes and onto the streets to gaze up at the volcano, terrified that it was active again and might soon erupt. Luckily, it turned out that man, not nature, was responsible for the smoke. A local practical joker named Porky Bickar had flown hundreds of old tires into the volcano's crater and then lit them on fire, all in an attempt to fool the city dwellers into believing that the volcano was stirring to life.
According to local legend, when Mount St. Helens erupted six years later, a Sitka resident wrote to Bickar to tell him, "This time you've gone too far!"
The Logistics: about 100 tires and a Helicopter.
Source: Sitka Sound Records
On Kruzof Island, about 13 miles west of Sitka, Alaska, sits Mt Edgecumbe. An extinct volcano that is 3,200 feet in height and covered with snow for about eight months of the year.
On April 1, 1974, a clear, beautiful morning, Porky Oliver Bickar of Sitka woke up early to see Mt. Edgecumbe through the window in all its glory. Porky whispered to his wife, Patty, "This is it. We've gotta do it today." Patty smiled sweetly, kissed Porky on the forehead, and said, "Don't make an ass of yourself."
Porky rushed to his shop and started calling helicopter charters. He called three charters, but when they heard his plan they respectfully declined. Finally, with the help of Harry Sulser, the owner of Sitka's Pioneer Bar (still a staple of Sitka dining and entertainment), Porky struck pay dirt with Temsco's Earl Walker in Petersburg. Although his chopper was fog-bound, Earl loved the idea and said he would be on the way to Sitka as soon as he could see one more telephone pole.
In the meantime, Porky made up two manila rope slings about 150 feet long, each holding about 50 old car tires. He also gathered up a batch of oily rags, a gallon of sterno, a lot of diesel oil, and a dozen smoke bombs.
When Earl and his chopper arrived at the old PBY and Goose turnaround (Sitka didn't have an airport then), Porky, Earl, Larry Nelson, and Ken Stedman first loaded up the incendiaries. When Earl and Porky got off the ground and the chopper hovered, Larry and Ken hooked one sling load of tires to the chopper and off it went toward Mt. Edgecumbe (with FAA "legal" clearance, of course).
Within just a few minutes, Porky and Earl were flying over Mt. Edgecumbe. They could see for miles, just water and islands, with Baranof Island to the east and the open North Pacific to the west. Porky and Earl dropped the tires into the up-til-now extinct volcano, then swung around and set the chopper down. Porky got out and unloaded all the fuel. Just the right stuff to make a lot of black, oily smoke.
When Earl lifted off and headed back to Sitka for the next load of tires, Porky stacked the first load in a big circle, poured on the fuel, and started to spray-paint a huge message in the snow with 50-foot letters: APRIL FOOL.
When Earl returned and dumped 50 more tires into Mt. Edgecumbe, the two men finished the arrangement, set the whole mess ablaze, and happily headed back to Sitka. On the way back, Earl asked the FAA tower for clearance, and Homer Sutter (the controller) said "I'll bring you in as low and inconspicuously as possible, and by the way, the son of a gun looks fantastic!" Earl set the chopper down. Mission accomplished!!
Although Porky had remembered to notify both the FAA and the Sitka Police (he was a member of the police commission), he somehow forgot to notify the Coast Guard. While Mt. Edgecumbe was busy spewing out its black smoke, the Coast Guard Commander called for a chopper to investigate and also sent a whale boat over to check things out. The chopper pilot radioed back to the commander that all he saw was a bunch of smoking tires and a big April Fool sign in the snow.
In the meantime, the Sitka radio station and the Sitka police station telephones were ringing off the hook.
When you run out of plastic tubs with lids.
Your crew waiting for a tiny morsel.