Dexter Nova Bright Star

Gordon Setter
Picture of Dexter Nova Bright Star, a male Gordon Setter

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Home:Spreckels, CA/Cottage Grove, a  [I have a diary!]  
Age: 13 Years   Sex: Male   Weight: 51-100 lbs

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   Leave a bone for Dexter Nova Bright Star

Dexter, little guy, pointy headed little prick, His Dextrousity, Mr. D, young man!

Quick Bio:

November 12th 2003

poetry, sunsets, long walks on the beach, world peace... nah, I'm just blowin' smoke up your vent... really, I like birds

I don't like stangers looming over me. Sometimes, I don't even like the biped looming over me.

Favorite Toy:
The biped and I play keep-away/fetch with my blue Jolly ball for a few minutes every afternoon before we go for our walk. That's about the extent of my involvement with toys.

Favorite Food:
I am a dog of eclectic tastes. I try not to play favorites. I am fond of my after-walk Greenies, though.

Favorite Walk:
Garland Park and the BLM land formerly known as Fort Ord. In either case, the biped gets a 3.5 mile hike, and I get a 10 -12 mile run. I am indefatigable! 1-14-09: These days, I probably only go 2 or 3 times as far as he does--I am no longer a puppy.

Best Tricks:
I'm almost perfect on the recall command. I sit, stay, and heel pretty well.

Arrival Story:
I'll let the biped 'splain it on you, Lucy: "When my English Setter Bill was run over in October of 2003, at first I didn't want another dog at all. Then I found I really missed having a dog to waste my time on. I've always liked setters because I was raised around them (some might say BY them). But I didn't want to get another English Setter because it might remind me too much of Bill. So I decided to give a Gordon a try. We got Dexter from Bright Star Setters of Petaluma, California. Very nice people who really know their dogs. So far, so good."

Born November 12, 2003, I've been with my bipeds since I was eight weeks old. Named after Dexter Gordon, the jazz saxophonist (the senior bipup's idea). The biped thought this was sort of an inside joke, but since he acquired me, he's run into three other people who claim to have known Gordon setters named Dexter. Maybe they should have gone with Flash.

Forums Motto:
Birds are my life.

The Groups I'm In:
★FRIENDS★, AnimaLimpix 2008, Dexter's Flewsies, E-Setters, K9 Comedy Club, Old Fogies, Top five lists

O, Happy Dog!:

Walking the Dog:

Peel Me a Grape:

Most Rain-Man-like ability:
I can instantaneously and with complete accuracy calculate, in all four dimensions, the exact location of THE WAY, so as to be able to place myself IN THE WAY, no matter what the biped is attempting to do.


I've Been On Dogster Since:
March 11th 2004 More than 12 years!

Rosette, Star and Special Gift History

Dogster Id:

Meet my family

Meet my Pup Pals
See all my Pup Pals
See all my Pup Pals

Big Brass Ones

Doh!: A deer, a female deer

September 26th 2009 11:02 am
[ Leave A Comment | 1 person already has ]

Ray: A golden drop of sun

Me: A name I call myself

Fa: A long, long, way...

Wait an arfing minute. That makes no sense at all. Not even if you're from Bahston.

And golden drops of sun are all very well in their place, I'm sure. But the focal point of my story is the doe.

And the me.

I'm Dexter. My partner is the biped. We were working the early morning shift out of Garland Park. Our job: Chase things.

It was a nippy morning in Carmel Valley. The biped and I were headed for the Mesa Pond--same old, same old. It was a little buggy for late September. I didn't mind. I'm a dog. A large dog.

When we got to the pond, there was no one in evidence but a great blue heron. Just standing on the opposite bank like he owned the place. The biped didn't want to bother with him, but I decided he needed to be interrogated. I approached him with all four paws in plain sight. He took flight. I gave chase. He made good his escape. You win some. You lose some. There'd be another day for the heron. There always is.

I investigated the scene thoroughly, then the biped and I went back on patrol: We continued generally southnorthward on the Mesa trail to its junction with the Vaquero trail, where we made a sharp left and continued down hill.

I went on ahead to see what I could scare up, leaving the biped to sweep the trail for stragglers.

Some minutes later, I came upon a pair of adolescent mule deer. Or possibly they were white-tail deer. All deer look alike in the dark, as the saying goes. And these two looked like they could use the privacy, if you know what I mean.

When the pair spotted me, the young buck said, I'm pretty sure he's here to see you, honey. I've got to go point Percy at the pavement. I'll be right back. And with that, he bounded off nonchalantly through the underbrush.

Maybe he was trying to draw me off. Maybe he really did have to point Percy at the pavement--though there wasn't any for two miles in any direction. Either way, I wasn't having any of it.

Your parents know where you are, young lady? I asked the doe.

Look! she yelled, pointing one dainty hoof over my shoulder.

When I turned my magnificent head to look, she lit out like a shot out of a firecracker, making a dog-awful crashing through the underbrush.

But I was on her like stink on ugly or stupid on a cat, as the saying goes. And I'd've caught up with her, too, if the biped hadn't started blowing his whistle just about then.

I put on the brakes like a Ural falling off a cliff and headed back to see what was up.

What's up, Boss? I said when I reestablished contact with the biped.

You know that heron, Dexter?

The great blue one?

That's the one.

What about it?

Turns out it's turned up missing.


You know something about it, Dexter?

Not a thing, Boss.

Well, any way you look at it, Dexter, we're going to have to get you back to the station and bathed. The lieutenant wants to see you.



The long arm of the law...

September 8th 2009 3:41 pm
[ Leave A Comment | 3 people already have ]

...of unintended consequences bites him in the arse again.

Since that time before which the memory of dog runneth not to the contrary--and then some, I believe--the biped's front office windows have not opened. It's not that they were defective; it's just that they were not windows of the opening kind.

And the biped, I have only just learned, has long been dissatisfied with this derangement. One of the reasons, it seems, that he found his unopenable windows irksome, in addition to the poor ventilation, was yours truly, if you can believe such a thing.

It seems that, when I am out in the front yard, I sometimes bark, for reasons which either are not apparent to the biped, or which, being perfectly apparent, are, in his considered opinion, nevertheless inadequate. He would like to have been able to communicate his disapproval to me without leaving his office, walking across the front of the house, and opening the front door--what the lazy bastard wanted were windows that actually opened and could therefore be effectively yelled through.

All that has only just now been explained to me. I knew nothing about any of it until just minutes ago.

All I knew was that I got banished to the back yard quite early this morning, right after a couple of strangers in a white pickup truck showed up. And I stayed banished for several hours, during which time I heard much banging and sawing going on at the front of the house.

Finally, a few minutes ago, the biped released me from the back yard. Then he went back in the house to return to whatever sort of "work" it is he claims he does.

I had been wandering around inspecting my domain for some minutes before I noticed that anything was amiss. Then I suddenly realized that a part of the house that had never stuck out before was now sticking out. Having had no previous experience of casement windows, I had no idea what it was.

Well, of course, I did what any self respecting canine would have done, Littermates--what you would have done in my place--I barked at it! And barked and barked and barked. Until the biped came and gently explained to me, through the new window, that I should... ahem... shut the arf up.

I'm not sure whether that's ironic, or whether it's just what happened. But, either way, it is.


Sometimes, a dog likes a little privacy, that's all.

August 27th 2009 5:15 pm
[ Leave A Comment | 3 people already have ]

So, yesterday evening, we're out for our daily stroll, the biped and I, and I begin to feel the need to spit on somebody's lawn, as it were. And, as luck would have it, there is a very nice lawn just sitting there practically asking to be spat upon.

The owners of said lawn happened to be standing right there watching us go by, as it turns out. I myself was perfectly prepared to provide a public demonstration of my prowess, but the biped can be a real pain about these things. Apparently, he prefers not to have me spit on someone's lawn when they're standing right there watching, even though he does faithfully clean up after me.

So, when he realized I was getting antsy, he tugged me right along to the corner and thence across the street. To an absolutely barren patch of ground that he seemed to think would do nicely. But, by this time, he had succeeded in inducing in me an utterly uncharacteristic sort of shyness--I no longer wanted to do my business right there in front of God and everybody. I was having none of it.

So the biped sighed and led me on.

Presently, we were walking along next to the new Spreckels Elementary School building. The building is only about two and a half feet from the sidewalk. That two and a half feet, however, is very tastefully landscaped with bushes and ground cover and such.

By now, of course, I really had to spit, but I was still feeling shy about doing it right out in the open. So I sought privacy in the bushes next to the school. And it seemed to me that I had achieved it, too. I pushed head first into the bushes just as far as I could go before assuming the position and doing the deed.

That being the case, it is not quite clear to me how I ended up spitting right smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk.

But I did.

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