It hasn’t stopped raining all day. Generally, I rather like rainy days but I prefer them when I can stay home, be lazy, listen to the rain and snuggle with the dogs. Unfortunately, today was not one of those days and, instead, I had to venture out into the wet landscape to go to work as usual.
The pups don’t like rainy days. It’s actually quite funny to see them. They get so excited when they get up in the mornings and I let them outside. They run out the back door and then…they stop. You can almost hear their little legs grinding to a halt as they realize it’s raining.
The unfortunate part is that they generally turn around and come back inside. This is fine if they’ve been out recently but when they just wake up after a night’s sleep, generally you’d think they had to go outside.
Even if they do, their desire to stay dry apparently overrules a full bladder. Since they’re completely housebroken and that they’re pretty smart, I used to assume that if they really needed to go, they’d go. Unfortunately, I discovered that this was the case only they decided to go indoors after I went to work.
This only happened once. Since then, I’ve found ways to get them to go outside. The meanest way I have is to trick them. It works well, I must admit. It’s pretty simple: I have two doors that lead to the back garden. They are in the same room, the Tuscan sunroom I redecorated earlier this year. The back doors face one another on opposite walls. One leads out to the patio. The other leads to the side of the house. On a normal day, I open up the door that leads to the side of the house and the pups run out.
On rainy days when they refuse to go out, I simply open up the other door. I step out onto the patio which has a slight overhang that keeps me dry. My loyal little pups follow, curious to see what I’m doing. Then, when they’re out, I quickly go back inside, shutting the door behind me. Meanwhile, I’ve left the other back door open. This means that they must go outside to get back into the house which inevitably leads to them realizing they might as well go to the bathroom since they’re already wet.
Yes, this is a mean trick. However, when I’m in a hurry and I have to get to work and I can’t coax them out any other way, it’s the best method to ensure they go outside. Also, they don’t seem to mind and come to greet me when they come back inside, trying to rub their little wet bodies against my legs- a small price to pay for my slightly cruel trick.
My nicer, kinder method to getting them to go outside is to simply go out with them. If it’s not raining too hard, I step outside for a minute. They follow. Then I go back under the overhang so I stay dry. They’re ok if they know I’m out there. If this doesn’t work, I have been known to stand out in the rain with an umbrella. They like it a lot more if I hold the umbrella over them too but, let’s face it, that’s just a little too indulgent. They seem content to be in the rain if they know I’m out there too.
If it’s not raining too hard, they don’t mind going out. It’s only when they get soaked that they mind. Of course, this is all dependent on their mood. There are times when they run out in the rain anyway. It seems that once they’re soaked, they figure that it doesn’t matter if they stay outside- they’re already wet. They tend to stay out for a while in this case. The bad part is that they’re soaked when they come in and if I’m not quick enough with the towel, they divebomb the carpet, rolling with glee as they get the beads of water off themselves.
Today was a day when they didn’t want to go out. In the morning, I had to resort to my cruel trickery. At lunch, I stood out there with them. This evening, well, I left the door open enough so that when the rain slowed and they really had to go out, they could go.
The only downside is that like young children, the dogs get bored if they’re stuck inside. Rory will lie on the floor and stare at me. When I look at her, she barks at me as if to say, “HUMAN! AMUSE ME! NOW!” Sookie, meanwhile, has given up and decided to resort to her favourite activity- sleeping. When I decide that playing with Rory on the floor is the best way to amuse her, Sookie automatically sprints up to join in. She does NOT like to miss out on fun. Usually, all I have to do is grab a squeaky toy and play tug-of-war with Rory and bam! Sookie is suddenly there, wanting to play too. Eventually, I try to sneak away and let the two play tug-of-war but this doesn’t last long and before I know it, Rory is woofing at me again.
It’s a vicious cycle. Last year, I resorted to those toys that are supposed to occupy dogs for a while- you stuff treats inside and the dogs are supposed to figure out how to release the treats. Unfortunately, my dachshunds tag-team and figuring it out takes half the time it should because one holds it down and the other sticks her tongue inside, forcing the treats out.
I suppose I should be happy that I have smart dogs. The problem is that they’re not quite smart enough that I can sit them down with a book or jigsaw puzzle.
Still, while they might get bored when it’s rainy, their presence ensures that I never do. Besides, when they do come inside and they’ve dried themselves on the carpet, it is rather pleasant to have them snuggle up beside me even though I know it’s 50% love and 50% need to warm up/dry off by using me as a human towel.
Besides, I think I owe them for tricking them into going outside. I always feel a little guilty about that.
Happy Wednesday and have a great Thanksgiving holiday!
Showing posts with label Sookie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sookie. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
The Other Side of Autumn
Well, we finally got the rain that was threatening us the last time I blogged. It’s pretty much been raining steadily ever since. I don’t mind although it’s a little colder than I expected. I even had to turn on the heat this morning since the pups and I were on the verge of shivering. I had the two of them curled up next to me under the covers last night since it was so chilly- they don’t like their noses to be cold. I’ve noticed they’re a lot cuddlier in the cooler months than in the summer.
It’s definitely another side to Autumn, this weather. Instead of getting to walk through the crisp, multicoloured fallen leaves, we get to see them pounded flat against the pavement in soggy clumps.
I don’t mind the rain though. It gives me an excuse to stay inside, put my pajamas on a little earlier than normal and curl up on the couch with the dogs. They’ve accepted there will be no walks in the rain. While it wouldn’t kill us to go out in the wetness, we all prefer not to if we can avoid it. Rory, especially, dislikes getting wet. She runs outside and then, when she realizes she’s getting wet, she quickly runs back to shelter and looks at me as if to say, “What on earth did you DO?”
It is supposed to stop raining this weekend though. I’m hoping to spend the weekend doing splendid autumn things with my family. My sister mentioned a pumpkin patch but our backup plan is pumpkin carving or something equally Halloweeny at home just in case it’s still raining. Also, her rather odd looking puppy had to have surgery this week to correct a problem with her legs and the poor thing is immobile at the moment so we may have to stay home with her. I don’t mind. I think I can be in the autumn spirit if we go out or not.
Still, before the weekend, there’s a Friday to get through. They’re usually pretty quiet around here. People tend to leave early or find an excuse to be out of the office. I’d like to skedaddle a little early to be able to get on the road to my parents a little early. I’m don’t mind driving in the dark but it makes for a long day now the days are getting shorter. I’m actually looking forward to the clocks changing though- it would be rather nice to get up in the morning and have it not still be dark out there. At the moment when my alarm goes off at 6:45 a.m., it still looks like nighttime and trying to persuade two slumbering dachshunds that it really is time to get out of bed is proving difficult. Sookie doesn’t mind so much but for the past several mornings, I’m greeted with loud groans from Rory who refuses to move until she’s ready.
I actually don’t mind the clocks changing so much in the autumn because we get an extra hour of sleep and that’s never a bad thing. Spring is harder because we lose sleep and I’m a Monkeypants who needs her sleep. Even though I think we really don’t need to change the clocks, the extra hour in the Fall is like Autumns way of giving us a little present- a way of saying “Here, have an extra hour to do something with- you can use it for anything but I recommend sleep!”
I know I’ve been waxing poetical about Autumn in a lot of my blogs lately but for me, it’s that time of year. The world slows down a little and starts to die back readying itself for Winters season of recharge and recuperation. There’s colour everywhere. Suddenly the idea of a bowl of hot soup sounds much more appealing than a caprese salad which, only a month before, was a summer treat.
The rainy days we’re dealing with are simply another side of Autumn. It can’t all be crisp leaves, bonfires and balmy breezes. Winter, after all, is coming and Autumn is simply guiding us into that season as gently as she knows how with a little taste of it here and there until finally, she’s ready to step aside and let Winter have his say.
For now, though, Winter is still in the wings and I’m hoping we have quite a few more crisp leaf-apple cider days to go.
We’ll just have to wait and see.
Happy Friday!
It’s definitely another side to Autumn, this weather. Instead of getting to walk through the crisp, multicoloured fallen leaves, we get to see them pounded flat against the pavement in soggy clumps.
I don’t mind the rain though. It gives me an excuse to stay inside, put my pajamas on a little earlier than normal and curl up on the couch with the dogs. They’ve accepted there will be no walks in the rain. While it wouldn’t kill us to go out in the wetness, we all prefer not to if we can avoid it. Rory, especially, dislikes getting wet. She runs outside and then, when she realizes she’s getting wet, she quickly runs back to shelter and looks at me as if to say, “What on earth did you DO?”
It is supposed to stop raining this weekend though. I’m hoping to spend the weekend doing splendid autumn things with my family. My sister mentioned a pumpkin patch but our backup plan is pumpkin carving or something equally Halloweeny at home just in case it’s still raining. Also, her rather odd looking puppy had to have surgery this week to correct a problem with her legs and the poor thing is immobile at the moment so we may have to stay home with her. I don’t mind. I think I can be in the autumn spirit if we go out or not.
Still, before the weekend, there’s a Friday to get through. They’re usually pretty quiet around here. People tend to leave early or find an excuse to be out of the office. I’d like to skedaddle a little early to be able to get on the road to my parents a little early. I’m don’t mind driving in the dark but it makes for a long day now the days are getting shorter. I’m actually looking forward to the clocks changing though- it would be rather nice to get up in the morning and have it not still be dark out there. At the moment when my alarm goes off at 6:45 a.m., it still looks like nighttime and trying to persuade two slumbering dachshunds that it really is time to get out of bed is proving difficult. Sookie doesn’t mind so much but for the past several mornings, I’m greeted with loud groans from Rory who refuses to move until she’s ready.
I actually don’t mind the clocks changing so much in the autumn because we get an extra hour of sleep and that’s never a bad thing. Spring is harder because we lose sleep and I’m a Monkeypants who needs her sleep. Even though I think we really don’t need to change the clocks, the extra hour in the Fall is like Autumns way of giving us a little present- a way of saying “Here, have an extra hour to do something with- you can use it for anything but I recommend sleep!”
I know I’ve been waxing poetical about Autumn in a lot of my blogs lately but for me, it’s that time of year. The world slows down a little and starts to die back readying itself for Winters season of recharge and recuperation. There’s colour everywhere. Suddenly the idea of a bowl of hot soup sounds much more appealing than a caprese salad which, only a month before, was a summer treat.
The rainy days we’re dealing with are simply another side of Autumn. It can’t all be crisp leaves, bonfires and balmy breezes. Winter, after all, is coming and Autumn is simply guiding us into that season as gently as she knows how with a little taste of it here and there until finally, she’s ready to step aside and let Winter have his say.
For now, though, Winter is still in the wings and I’m hoping we have quite a few more crisp leaf-apple cider days to go.
We’ll just have to wait and see.
Happy Friday!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Accidental Invitations
It’s feeling a lot like autumn out there. Last night, we had a mini storm come in and by this morning, it had dropped about 20 degrees. I have to say, it feels wonderful and given that it’s almost the calendar start of Fall, I can’t help but want to welcome it with open arms. I’m actually over that hump where I feel like summer is being usurped. We’ve had enough days where it’s too chilly to wear open-toed shoes and I’ve resorted to my boots and socks and so, for me, it’s autumn.
This doesn’t mean I’m ready to decorate for the season but it does mean that I can start dressing a little warmer and appreciating the start of autumnal thinking.
I did finally get my bench built. Let me tell you, building a cast iron-backed bench by oneself is NOT an easy task. You’re supposed to screw the really heavy back piece into each side which would be fine if someone was available to hold it but, alas, as a singleton, I was on my own. The dogs were no help. They skedaddled as soon as I started swearing at the blasted thing. Yes, there was plenty of swearing. I got hot, sweaty and generally quite frustrated.
However, I persevered. I managed to use the wall as a support for the legs and with some creative maneuvering got it done. I now have a bench and you can even sit on it. The reason I’m telling you this is that the bench is involved in my autumn plans. I wanted to get it done and outside so that I had somewhere to sit while enjoying a fire in my new firepit on a cool evening.
The only thing I’m a bit worried about is that I might have accidentally invited Larry the Potential Serial Killer to join me. You see, I was walking the girls on Tuesday night and he was outside. We chatted politely about the weather as you so often do with neighbours. He mentioned how he wanted to get “one of those there firepits you see in Lowes” and I stupidly said, “I have one of those.” His eyes lit up and he said “You do? Well, that’s neato. Maybe I’ll come to yours then.” Thinking he was joking, I said “sure!”. I WAS joking. Larry was not. He said, “I’ll be over then.” And he meant it.
Lesson learned here: Do not stupidly agree to things if you think someone is joking because he might not be.
Now I’m a bit worried that he might come over if he sees me having a fire in the firepit. I suppose it might be ok except, well, he’s a wee bit creepy and, also, at least 15 years older than me. Methinks I do not want Larry in my backyard when it’s dark outside. It didn’t help that while I was talking to him, he had been roaming around the backyard with no shoes or socks on his feet. I don’t have a problem with feet, per se. There are some men- surfers for example- who seem perfectly natural when they’re barefoot. Then there are men like Larry who just look…odd…when they’re barefoot.
Oh well, you live and learn, I suppose. It’s not going to stop me from enjoying my firepit- at least not unless he actually does show up. Since the dogs aren’t really fond of him, I expect they won’t be too happy about it either. He often tries to pet them when we go out for a walk and they sort of duck away and hide behind me whenever he does. They don’t do that with everyone.
Sookie tends to be a bit jumpy anyway. Today at lunch, I came home to find that one of the girls had an accident on the floor. This never happens and I mean never. I was a little surprised and annoyed but what can you do but clean it up? Then, Sookie started acting a little odd. I gave her a treat and she scoffed it down like normal. Then a few moments later when I gave her another one, she ignored it and tried to sit on my lap. Then, she suddenly backed away and started to run outside. I was worried she was having tummy issues and followed her. Nope, she just wanted to be outside. Then, when I went back to work, I noticed that she came in when I called her but then, when she normally hops in her crate, she didn’t. She tried to go outside again.
I figured out what was bothering her. I’d noticed my smoke detector had been chirping because I needed to change the battery. She was afraid of the chirp. Each time it made it’s annoying sound, she tried to run away. When I got back to work, I googled this to see if it was normal. Apparently, there are quite a few dogs out there who get upset/panicked/terrified by this mere chirping sound.
I did feel better. I had been worried she wasn’t well but it turns out she was just frightened which is still bad but easily remedied by removing the dying battery in the smoke detector for now. My guess is that she’s the one who had ‘the accident’ and was so frightened she couldn’t hold her bladder. Poor little thing- what seems like a mildly irritating noise to me must be a great deal more worrying to her.
Sookie is a worrier. She likes things to be the same all the time. She doesn’t like change and she most certainly doesn’t like it when her sister is naughty. Also, she doesn’t like strangers, particularly men. She’s quite protective of me which is both good and bad.
Thus, I’m hoping that she’ll be enough to deter Larry the Potential Serial Killer when he comes to visit. Of course, I’m really hoping he simply doesn’t come and visit but lately, nothing’s been quite going as planned so I’m not holding my breath.
Still, I can’t let it deter me from the fact that I’m starting to accept that summer is a fleeting visitor and that autumn is taking over. I don’t want it to come too fast but I do want it to come.
I’m ready.
This doesn’t mean I’m ready to decorate for the season but it does mean that I can start dressing a little warmer and appreciating the start of autumnal thinking.
I did finally get my bench built. Let me tell you, building a cast iron-backed bench by oneself is NOT an easy task. You’re supposed to screw the really heavy back piece into each side which would be fine if someone was available to hold it but, alas, as a singleton, I was on my own. The dogs were no help. They skedaddled as soon as I started swearing at the blasted thing. Yes, there was plenty of swearing. I got hot, sweaty and generally quite frustrated.
However, I persevered. I managed to use the wall as a support for the legs and with some creative maneuvering got it done. I now have a bench and you can even sit on it. The reason I’m telling you this is that the bench is involved in my autumn plans. I wanted to get it done and outside so that I had somewhere to sit while enjoying a fire in my new firepit on a cool evening.
The only thing I’m a bit worried about is that I might have accidentally invited Larry the Potential Serial Killer to join me. You see, I was walking the girls on Tuesday night and he was outside. We chatted politely about the weather as you so often do with neighbours. He mentioned how he wanted to get “one of those there firepits you see in Lowes” and I stupidly said, “I have one of those.” His eyes lit up and he said “You do? Well, that’s neato. Maybe I’ll come to yours then.” Thinking he was joking, I said “sure!”. I WAS joking. Larry was not. He said, “I’ll be over then.” And he meant it.
Lesson learned here: Do not stupidly agree to things if you think someone is joking because he might not be.
Now I’m a bit worried that he might come over if he sees me having a fire in the firepit. I suppose it might be ok except, well, he’s a wee bit creepy and, also, at least 15 years older than me. Methinks I do not want Larry in my backyard when it’s dark outside. It didn’t help that while I was talking to him, he had been roaming around the backyard with no shoes or socks on his feet. I don’t have a problem with feet, per se. There are some men- surfers for example- who seem perfectly natural when they’re barefoot. Then there are men like Larry who just look…odd…when they’re barefoot.
Oh well, you live and learn, I suppose. It’s not going to stop me from enjoying my firepit- at least not unless he actually does show up. Since the dogs aren’t really fond of him, I expect they won’t be too happy about it either. He often tries to pet them when we go out for a walk and they sort of duck away and hide behind me whenever he does. They don’t do that with everyone.
Sookie tends to be a bit jumpy anyway. Today at lunch, I came home to find that one of the girls had an accident on the floor. This never happens and I mean never. I was a little surprised and annoyed but what can you do but clean it up? Then, Sookie started acting a little odd. I gave her a treat and she scoffed it down like normal. Then a few moments later when I gave her another one, she ignored it and tried to sit on my lap. Then, she suddenly backed away and started to run outside. I was worried she was having tummy issues and followed her. Nope, she just wanted to be outside. Then, when I went back to work, I noticed that she came in when I called her but then, when she normally hops in her crate, she didn’t. She tried to go outside again.
I figured out what was bothering her. I’d noticed my smoke detector had been chirping because I needed to change the battery. She was afraid of the chirp. Each time it made it’s annoying sound, she tried to run away. When I got back to work, I googled this to see if it was normal. Apparently, there are quite a few dogs out there who get upset/panicked/terrified by this mere chirping sound.
I did feel better. I had been worried she wasn’t well but it turns out she was just frightened which is still bad but easily remedied by removing the dying battery in the smoke detector for now. My guess is that she’s the one who had ‘the accident’ and was so frightened she couldn’t hold her bladder. Poor little thing- what seems like a mildly irritating noise to me must be a great deal more worrying to her.
Sookie is a worrier. She likes things to be the same all the time. She doesn’t like change and she most certainly doesn’t like it when her sister is naughty. Also, she doesn’t like strangers, particularly men. She’s quite protective of me which is both good and bad.
Thus, I’m hoping that she’ll be enough to deter Larry the Potential Serial Killer when he comes to visit. Of course, I’m really hoping he simply doesn’t come and visit but lately, nothing’s been quite going as planned so I’m not holding my breath.
Still, I can’t let it deter me from the fact that I’m starting to accept that summer is a fleeting visitor and that autumn is taking over. I don’t want it to come too fast but I do want it to come.
I’m ready.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Fading Summer...
It’s that weird time of year where it’s not quite autumn but summer is starting to show signs of weariness. Two weeks ago, we were having 100 degree temperatures. Last week, the warm weather departed, leaving us with rainy, grey days that barely got above 70 degrees. This week is a happy medium. We’re supposed to be in the 80’s for the first part of the week and it’s supposed to be a little cooler for the weekend.
It’s a transition period. I find these are a little tricky. I have two wardrobes- a spring/summer and an autumn/winter one. Twice a year, I go through the ritual of changing out one wardrobe for another. It seems like just yesterday I was hanging up my capris and sleeveless shirts and putting away my thicker sweaters and darker clothing.
It seems too soon to switch the wardrobes. After all, technically, it’s still summer. It may be feeling a little autumnal out there but it’s not autumn. I love the treats of fall. I love pumpkins and squash, scarecrows, fallen leaves, leaf fires and chilly nights. However, I’m finding that I’m reluctant to jump in yet. It’s simply a little too early.
I think I’ve become fonder of summers since I moved back to a place that has seasons. I’ve written a couple of blogs about how summer is my least favourite season. This year, I’m not sure if I’ve just changed but I’ve enjoyed summer. I’ve enjoyed watching the herbs grow, the veggies ripen and sitting outside in the evenings. I’ve liked working on outdoor projects. It’s been fun.
This may be why I’m feeling a little defensive of summer every time I pass by a house that already has little scarecrows and autumn leaf flags adorning the garden. A couple of people have started their autumn displays of haybales and squash.
Even though summer was, once again, greedy this year and took over before spring was truly done, I still feel like that’s no excuse for turning our minds from the bright colours of summer and putting them towards the oranges, browns and reds of autumn. Not yet.
I know it’s a societal invention but I feel like until the calendar officially reads “first day of Autumn”, it’s not time to start celebrating the fall.
This is also true when it comes to wardrobe. I find that when I’m waking up and the mornings are chillier than they were two weeks ago, my tendency is to reach for autumn-esque clothing. I tend to leave a few pieces in my wardrobes that I consider ‘transitional’ attire. This is why I never put away my black, heeled, every day ankle boots that go nicely under my trousers nor do I put away my cardigan collection or my black trousers. With these items, it’s easy to find something to wear to work that utilizes parts of my summer wardrobe but lets me dress for the weather without completely having to changeover the wardrobe. This works well when winter is transitioning to spring too. I keep a couple of lighter coloured blouses unpacked so that I can wear them when the weather warms up.
It’s just hard to keep up with the seasons at the moment. The leaves are starting to look like they’re considering changing colour. A couple of trees in the neighbourhood appeared to have been fooled by the rainy, cold weather of last week and somehow managed to drop almost every leaf already leaving very little left to do in the autumn.
The dogs seem a little confused too. In the mornings, I let Rory and Sookie out and when it’s cooler, they stop and sniff the air instead of running full speed ahead into the garden as they’ve done all summer. They spend much more time outside too now the weather is cooler.
This is not necessarily a good thing. Last night, I went to check on them and couldn’t find them anywhere. Instead of panicking, I guessed that they had finally succeeded on their latest mission: Find a Way Under the Toolshed.
This is not the first time the girls have had this mission. Last time they succeeded, I barricaded all of the possible entrances to Under the Tool Shed using a combination of wood planks, pavers and bricks. I was successful. However, when dealing with two completely obsessed dachshunds who simply MUST GET TO WHATEVER SMELL IS WAFTING UP FROM UNDER THERE, there appears to be no 100% surefire way to prevent them from going under the shed.
Thus, when they vanished last night, I calmly went behind the shed. Sure enough, the wood planks had been fried loose enough to allow a gap big enough for my girls to wriggle through. I knocked on the side of the shed and firmly summoned my dogs back up to the surface. A few minutes later, both dogs emerged, bright eyed, laced with cobwebs with their tails wagging furiously. It was quite obvious that they knew they had Been Up To No Good but they were still too high from the adrenaline to care that their ‘mother’ was angry with them.
I quickly boarded up the gap and made sure that it was pup-proofed. Shortly after trying unsuccessfully to get back under the shed, the dogs followed me inside, dejected but also knowing they were in a spot of trouble. I told them off and they spent the rest of the evening trying to get cuddles which is what they do when they know I’m cross with them and they want to suck up. Of course, after my initial annoyance at their misbehavior wears off, I give in.
I’m hoping that this is not a sign of autumn antics to come. While I’m not fond of them going under the shed, I’d rather they disappeared under there than, say, under the fence or gate. At least its controlled chaos. I do worry a little that when they emerge, they’ll have some creature in their mouth but, so far, they haven’t caught anything.
Still, even though I’ve controlled their chaos, the cooler evenings and days mean that I’ll have to keep an eye on my wayward pups. With the sluggish heat of summer, they tend to be a little less active. When it’s nice outside, they stay out there and it only takes a short time for Rory Gilmore to Get Up to No Good.
I’m sure as summer really fades and gives way to actual autumn, there will be plenty more antics going on in my backyard. The squirrels already seem to be up to their evil plots. They always seem to increase in number in autumn so I’m gearing up for many a walk spent trying to prevent the girls from chasing them up trees.
In the meantime, I’m going to attempt to hold onto the last days of summer before the weather really cools down and avoid the lure of pumpkin, spices and autumn leaves. Of course, if it really gets as cold at night as they’re saying- 42 degrees, I may change my mind. We’ll see how it goes.
Happy Tuesday!
It’s a transition period. I find these are a little tricky. I have two wardrobes- a spring/summer and an autumn/winter one. Twice a year, I go through the ritual of changing out one wardrobe for another. It seems like just yesterday I was hanging up my capris and sleeveless shirts and putting away my thicker sweaters and darker clothing.
It seems too soon to switch the wardrobes. After all, technically, it’s still summer. It may be feeling a little autumnal out there but it’s not autumn. I love the treats of fall. I love pumpkins and squash, scarecrows, fallen leaves, leaf fires and chilly nights. However, I’m finding that I’m reluctant to jump in yet. It’s simply a little too early.
I think I’ve become fonder of summers since I moved back to a place that has seasons. I’ve written a couple of blogs about how summer is my least favourite season. This year, I’m not sure if I’ve just changed but I’ve enjoyed summer. I’ve enjoyed watching the herbs grow, the veggies ripen and sitting outside in the evenings. I’ve liked working on outdoor projects. It’s been fun.
This may be why I’m feeling a little defensive of summer every time I pass by a house that already has little scarecrows and autumn leaf flags adorning the garden. A couple of people have started their autumn displays of haybales and squash.
Even though summer was, once again, greedy this year and took over before spring was truly done, I still feel like that’s no excuse for turning our minds from the bright colours of summer and putting them towards the oranges, browns and reds of autumn. Not yet.
I know it’s a societal invention but I feel like until the calendar officially reads “first day of Autumn”, it’s not time to start celebrating the fall.
This is also true when it comes to wardrobe. I find that when I’m waking up and the mornings are chillier than they were two weeks ago, my tendency is to reach for autumn-esque clothing. I tend to leave a few pieces in my wardrobes that I consider ‘transitional’ attire. This is why I never put away my black, heeled, every day ankle boots that go nicely under my trousers nor do I put away my cardigan collection or my black trousers. With these items, it’s easy to find something to wear to work that utilizes parts of my summer wardrobe but lets me dress for the weather without completely having to changeover the wardrobe. This works well when winter is transitioning to spring too. I keep a couple of lighter coloured blouses unpacked so that I can wear them when the weather warms up.
It’s just hard to keep up with the seasons at the moment. The leaves are starting to look like they’re considering changing colour. A couple of trees in the neighbourhood appeared to have been fooled by the rainy, cold weather of last week and somehow managed to drop almost every leaf already leaving very little left to do in the autumn.
The dogs seem a little confused too. In the mornings, I let Rory and Sookie out and when it’s cooler, they stop and sniff the air instead of running full speed ahead into the garden as they’ve done all summer. They spend much more time outside too now the weather is cooler.
This is not necessarily a good thing. Last night, I went to check on them and couldn’t find them anywhere. Instead of panicking, I guessed that they had finally succeeded on their latest mission: Find a Way Under the Toolshed.
This is not the first time the girls have had this mission. Last time they succeeded, I barricaded all of the possible entrances to Under the Tool Shed using a combination of wood planks, pavers and bricks. I was successful. However, when dealing with two completely obsessed dachshunds who simply MUST GET TO WHATEVER SMELL IS WAFTING UP FROM UNDER THERE, there appears to be no 100% surefire way to prevent them from going under the shed.
Thus, when they vanished last night, I calmly went behind the shed. Sure enough, the wood planks had been fried loose enough to allow a gap big enough for my girls to wriggle through. I knocked on the side of the shed and firmly summoned my dogs back up to the surface. A few minutes later, both dogs emerged, bright eyed, laced with cobwebs with their tails wagging furiously. It was quite obvious that they knew they had Been Up To No Good but they were still too high from the adrenaline to care that their ‘mother’ was angry with them.
I quickly boarded up the gap and made sure that it was pup-proofed. Shortly after trying unsuccessfully to get back under the shed, the dogs followed me inside, dejected but also knowing they were in a spot of trouble. I told them off and they spent the rest of the evening trying to get cuddles which is what they do when they know I’m cross with them and they want to suck up. Of course, after my initial annoyance at their misbehavior wears off, I give in.
I’m hoping that this is not a sign of autumn antics to come. While I’m not fond of them going under the shed, I’d rather they disappeared under there than, say, under the fence or gate. At least its controlled chaos. I do worry a little that when they emerge, they’ll have some creature in their mouth but, so far, they haven’t caught anything.
Still, even though I’ve controlled their chaos, the cooler evenings and days mean that I’ll have to keep an eye on my wayward pups. With the sluggish heat of summer, they tend to be a little less active. When it’s nice outside, they stay out there and it only takes a short time for Rory Gilmore to Get Up to No Good.
I’m sure as summer really fades and gives way to actual autumn, there will be plenty more antics going on in my backyard. The squirrels already seem to be up to their evil plots. They always seem to increase in number in autumn so I’m gearing up for many a walk spent trying to prevent the girls from chasing them up trees.
In the meantime, I’m going to attempt to hold onto the last days of summer before the weather really cools down and avoid the lure of pumpkin, spices and autumn leaves. Of course, if it really gets as cold at night as they’re saying- 42 degrees, I may change my mind. We’ll see how it goes.
Happy Tuesday!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Oops..Sorry Squirrels?
It turns out I may have been blaming the squirrels unjustly for the eating of my tomatoes. According to Possibly-Joe, there’s a groundhog living in the garden that’s diagonal to mine. He’s seen it a few times and his dog desperately wants to eat it.
Possibly-Joe has a rat terrier named Chloe that he ties out on a long chain in the garden. He doesn’t have the luxury of a fence the way I do and Chloe is a bit of a runner. There have been several times when I’ve seen Chloe squeeze out the back door when he’s going through and he’s run around the neighbourhood trying to chase her. He’s done it barefoot a few times too. So far, he’s always caught her. He has my sympathies. When I was a kid, my dad had a thing for Afghan Hounds so we had a couple of them. Afghan’s are REAL runners- if they have the space, they will run. There were several occasions when they managed to get out of our yard and we had to chase them like maniacs all around the neighbourhood. It was never fun, always embarrassing and always a triumph when we caught the dog. So Joe has my sympathies.
Anyway, I know about the groundhog because while I was squirrel-proofing my tomatoes last night, Possibly-Joe came out to chat. This was while the Trampoline Gang was at their wildest and I’d desperately been trying to ignore their yelling. Possibly Joe clearly felt the same way I did because the first thing he said to me was, “as if their dogs weren’t bad enough, now we have a trampoline.”
It made me smile. It’s nice to have catharsis in knowing you’re not the only one who’s irritated at something. I was starting to feel like a cranky old spinster because I can’t sit out on my patio anymore without it having the soundtrack of the kids next door. I mean, I am glad they’re able to keep amused and have fun playing but the selfish part of me wished they didn’t have to do it next door while I’m trying to relax.
Possibly Joe had a gripe about Dog Whisperer’s beasts and how they drove Chloe nuts and then he complained about how the kids on the trampoline liked to wind up Chloe which got her upset. I listened with sympathy. As I suspected, Dog Whisperer and Wife didn’t do themselves any favours by installing the trampoline. I know that their yapping dogs drive quite a few people crazy as I’ve mentioned before. However, add to that a trampoline full of shouting kids…they’re not exactly going to be the most popular house on the block.
Anyway, after Possibly Joe was done with his complaints, he mentioned that there was also a groundhog living next door to him which Chloe kept trying to eat. I didn’t know that I had one of the creatures quite so close to my house. Possibly Joe said he’s seen it stick its head up quite a few times and that’s usually when Chloe goes nuts and tries to eat it. Fortunately, her chain doesn’t go that far.
I was surprised. I’ve never seen the groundhog and I can’t help but think that if Rory and Sookie saw it, they, too, would want to join in the Eating of the Groundhog with Chloe. Well, they probably wouldn’t eat it. What would actually happen is that they would bark at it a lot. Sookie would be the leader of the barking and Rory would stand back, trying to be brave like her sister but rather wary anyway. The groundhog would probably stare at the two barking dogs and then saunter off, probably to eat Larry the Potential Serial Killers sweet pertaters or beans. If my girls did get close enough to the groundhog to actually confront it, chances are that Rory would run off, frightened and Sookie would attempt to bravely capture it but would probably run away if it got too close. The groundhog is, after all, bigger than Sook.
The thing is, Sookie thinks she’s a big dog. This is why when we got out walking, she gives no notice to the Chihuahua’s and Yorkies we pass. She barely acknowledges the miniature poodle. No, Sookie likes to stir up trouble when we pass the German Shepherds or the Golden Retriever. She also is quite fond of barking back at the Great Dane we pass by its back gate. Sookie is fierce and she likes dogs to know it except, really, she’s not. She just likes to bark and when they bark back, she hides behind my legs. This is why I know she wouldn’t really fight a groundhog. A squirrel, she’d fight. She has already taken on a rabbit. She likes voles. She’s fond of bugs. Yet when it comes to things that wouldn’t fit in her mouth, she’s not really that fond of getting too close.
Still, now that I know there’s a groundhog, I’m a little more suspicious of my tomatoes. They were awfully large bite marks in them. I assumed that a squirrel had started the job and Rory had finished since I caught her taking a bite yesterday. However, now I know there really is a groundhog living close by, my suspicions have changed. I’m not sure if groundhogs can climb though- I don’t see how else they could have got to my tomatoes without scaling the fence. Still, it does make me wonder if I did blame the squirrels unjustly.
Hopefully, my chicken wire will suffice. Since I managed to cut myself on it as I was setting it up, I decided it might be dangerous to the girls if they ran through on one of their mad energy bursts that causes them to run round the garden on their circular track. In an effort to remind them the wire was there, I tied some very bright orange fabric all over it. If nothing else, I have the most stylish-squirrel deterrent in the neighbourhood.
Still, I’m going to be on the lookout for that groundhog now I know where he lives. I’ll also keep an eye on the girls just in case Sookie tries to play “Catch the Groundhog” which she is likely to attempt to do if she sees it. My guess is that our chain link fence will provide a safety barrier for both parties but you never know.
On the plus side, all that noise from the Trampoline next door probably discourages the creature from coming out as often as it wants to so maybe there is a silver lining to this after all.
Sorry, Squirrels…maybe it wasn’t your fault this time…
Happy Thursday!
Possibly-Joe has a rat terrier named Chloe that he ties out on a long chain in the garden. He doesn’t have the luxury of a fence the way I do and Chloe is a bit of a runner. There have been several times when I’ve seen Chloe squeeze out the back door when he’s going through and he’s run around the neighbourhood trying to chase her. He’s done it barefoot a few times too. So far, he’s always caught her. He has my sympathies. When I was a kid, my dad had a thing for Afghan Hounds so we had a couple of them. Afghan’s are REAL runners- if they have the space, they will run. There were several occasions when they managed to get out of our yard and we had to chase them like maniacs all around the neighbourhood. It was never fun, always embarrassing and always a triumph when we caught the dog. So Joe has my sympathies.
Anyway, I know about the groundhog because while I was squirrel-proofing my tomatoes last night, Possibly-Joe came out to chat. This was while the Trampoline Gang was at their wildest and I’d desperately been trying to ignore their yelling. Possibly Joe clearly felt the same way I did because the first thing he said to me was, “as if their dogs weren’t bad enough, now we have a trampoline.”
It made me smile. It’s nice to have catharsis in knowing you’re not the only one who’s irritated at something. I was starting to feel like a cranky old spinster because I can’t sit out on my patio anymore without it having the soundtrack of the kids next door. I mean, I am glad they’re able to keep amused and have fun playing but the selfish part of me wished they didn’t have to do it next door while I’m trying to relax.
Possibly Joe had a gripe about Dog Whisperer’s beasts and how they drove Chloe nuts and then he complained about how the kids on the trampoline liked to wind up Chloe which got her upset. I listened with sympathy. As I suspected, Dog Whisperer and Wife didn’t do themselves any favours by installing the trampoline. I know that their yapping dogs drive quite a few people crazy as I’ve mentioned before. However, add to that a trampoline full of shouting kids…they’re not exactly going to be the most popular house on the block.
Anyway, after Possibly Joe was done with his complaints, he mentioned that there was also a groundhog living next door to him which Chloe kept trying to eat. I didn’t know that I had one of the creatures quite so close to my house. Possibly Joe said he’s seen it stick its head up quite a few times and that’s usually when Chloe goes nuts and tries to eat it. Fortunately, her chain doesn’t go that far.
I was surprised. I’ve never seen the groundhog and I can’t help but think that if Rory and Sookie saw it, they, too, would want to join in the Eating of the Groundhog with Chloe. Well, they probably wouldn’t eat it. What would actually happen is that they would bark at it a lot. Sookie would be the leader of the barking and Rory would stand back, trying to be brave like her sister but rather wary anyway. The groundhog would probably stare at the two barking dogs and then saunter off, probably to eat Larry the Potential Serial Killers sweet pertaters or beans. If my girls did get close enough to the groundhog to actually confront it, chances are that Rory would run off, frightened and Sookie would attempt to bravely capture it but would probably run away if it got too close. The groundhog is, after all, bigger than Sook.
The thing is, Sookie thinks she’s a big dog. This is why when we got out walking, she gives no notice to the Chihuahua’s and Yorkies we pass. She barely acknowledges the miniature poodle. No, Sookie likes to stir up trouble when we pass the German Shepherds or the Golden Retriever. She also is quite fond of barking back at the Great Dane we pass by its back gate. Sookie is fierce and she likes dogs to know it except, really, she’s not. She just likes to bark and when they bark back, she hides behind my legs. This is why I know she wouldn’t really fight a groundhog. A squirrel, she’d fight. She has already taken on a rabbit. She likes voles. She’s fond of bugs. Yet when it comes to things that wouldn’t fit in her mouth, she’s not really that fond of getting too close.
Still, now that I know there’s a groundhog, I’m a little more suspicious of my tomatoes. They were awfully large bite marks in them. I assumed that a squirrel had started the job and Rory had finished since I caught her taking a bite yesterday. However, now I know there really is a groundhog living close by, my suspicions have changed. I’m not sure if groundhogs can climb though- I don’t see how else they could have got to my tomatoes without scaling the fence. Still, it does make me wonder if I did blame the squirrels unjustly.
Hopefully, my chicken wire will suffice. Since I managed to cut myself on it as I was setting it up, I decided it might be dangerous to the girls if they ran through on one of their mad energy bursts that causes them to run round the garden on their circular track. In an effort to remind them the wire was there, I tied some very bright orange fabric all over it. If nothing else, I have the most stylish-squirrel deterrent in the neighbourhood.
Still, I’m going to be on the lookout for that groundhog now I know where he lives. I’ll also keep an eye on the girls just in case Sookie tries to play “Catch the Groundhog” which she is likely to attempt to do if she sees it. My guess is that our chain link fence will provide a safety barrier for both parties but you never know.
On the plus side, all that noise from the Trampoline next door probably discourages the creature from coming out as often as it wants to so maybe there is a silver lining to this after all.
Sorry, Squirrels…maybe it wasn’t your fault this time…
Happy Thursday!
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Defend and Destroy!
I despise squirrels. I know I’ve mentioned this before but, once again, my opinion has been justified.
I find them to be rude little creatures. If squirrels were humans, they’d be obnoxious teenagers who’ve had no parenting, treat the world as their playground and talk back to whoever gets in their way. They’re not threatening, per se but no one really wants to deal with them because they’re annoying.
Both Sookie and Rory hate squirrels too. Their hatred is manifested in their desire to capture a squirrel of their very own any time they see one. They whine beneath a tree when there’s a squirrel in it, they pull like crazy if we’re walking and they see a squirrel and they simply cannot understand why squirrels can run up trees and they can’t.
We call squirrels ‘dirty rotten cheaters’ because they sit there, taunting the dogs as we walk, chewing on some item that’s bigger than their heads whether it’s a tomato, a hickory nut, a slice of pizza or an apple and as soon as the dogs get close enough, they run up the nearest tree.
We consider that cheating. I do, however, marvel at how squirrels manage to climb trees without dropping their food items. It’s not fair that my dogs get so close and then the squirrel cheats by running out of reach.
Worse is when the squirrels talk back. They run up the tree and then sit there, making this weird chittering noise that sounds rather like they shouting at my dogs. This, in particular, drives Sookie a little nuts and she gets a little demented in her attempts to try to climb up the tree. Sookie, my sweet but not-as-bright-as-her-sister dog has not yet figured out that she cannot climb a tree. She tries. Oh, but she tries but she always ends up having to concede defeat. She’s a sweetie but there are times when she’s just a little, uh, dopey. Take for example when I try to put her harness on her for a walk. Rory long since figured out that if she steps into each leg hole, buckling the harness is harmless, easy and quick. Not Sookie. Sookie still acts like she thinks I’m going to hurt her when I approach with the harness. When I get her to stay still, I get her to lift a leg to coax her to put her foot in the leg hole. Then the leg stays lifted and I suddenly have a Three Legged Dachshund. She has stood like that for quite a while. I usually get her to put it down by manually lifting her other front leg. Of course, by this time, the first leg is no longer in the leg hole of the harness but it’s worth a shot. Of course, she ends up keeping this leg lifted for a while and we repeat the process until the harness is actually on. So, her constant attempts to climb trees are expected and, well, endearing.
I digress. Back to the squirrels.
Squirrels make our walks more interesting. There are huge amount in our neighbourhood and so when the weather is cool and breezy, they’re out in full force, gathering food and generally being obnoxious.
I can handle them on our walks. It takes a little wrangling to persuade two enthusiastic dachshunds that squirrels aren’t actually food and thus it’s not worth chasing them but it does keep our walks interesting.
I can’t handle them in the garden, however. There are a couple that live in my neighbour’s trees. They run around, jumping from fence to tree branch to bush to fence and so on. They torment Sookie and Rory by perching on the top of our chain link fence, doing that chittering thing a mere three feet above where Sookie stands on her back legs desperately trying to reach them. No matter how high she jumps she can’t quite bag herself a squirrel. The squirrel, meanwhile, clearly enjoys inflicting torment. I half expect them to pelt my dogs with acorns and berries. For all I know, they do.
The worst part is that they’re thieves and sneaks. Twice now, I’ve noticed that my lovely heirloom tomatoes are starting to ripen and I get excited. I decide that I’ll let them ripen a little more and then I’ll pick them. Lo and behold, twice now on my two largest tomatoes, I’ve gone out the next day to discover half-demolished tomatoes ridden with squirrel-sized toothmarks. The tomatoes are no good and I have to throw them away. They also eat my cherry tomatoes and I find them strewn on the ground, half-eaten. Honestly, I’d rather the bloody creatures just ate the whole tomato. At least then, it wouldn’t seem so obnoxious and wasteful.
The dogs are no help because the squirrels attack my tomatoes while they’re inside and I’m at work. Or they do it at night. I still blame Wife of Dog Whisperer who used to plant tomatoes strictly for the squirrels. They’ve got a taste now and since mine are gourmet tomatoes, heirlooms and lovely, they’re hell bent on eating them.
It’s time to declare war. I have some chicken wire that I’m going to attempt to use to secure the perimeter of my tomato patch. Rory and Sookie won’t like it because I’ve caught them having a bite out of the already squirrel- decimated tomatoes when they think I’m not looking. I suppose they smell of squirrel because they won’t eat tomatoes if I offer them normally.
I’ve been researching other ways of getting rid of squirrels. The internet recommends using dog hair around the plants. Since my girls are shedding rather a lot, I’ll use my Furminator on them tonight and try that method too. I’ve also given the dogs permission to seek and destroy but, alas, that’s not having any more effect than their usual attempts to seek and destroy. Apparently, they don’t need my permission.
I’m hoping to salvage the last of my heirlooms. I have a couple more and I’ve been waiting ages to pick them and enjoy them so you can see why the squirrels have inspired my ire. If I succeed in eating at least one of the delicious fruits that isn’t laden with bitemarks, I’ll be happy.
When it comes to my vegetables, it’s serious business. I will take no prisoners. Those squirrels have messed with my tomatoes for the last time.
Now, if only I could tell them that.
Happy Wednesday!
I find them to be rude little creatures. If squirrels were humans, they’d be obnoxious teenagers who’ve had no parenting, treat the world as their playground and talk back to whoever gets in their way. They’re not threatening, per se but no one really wants to deal with them because they’re annoying.
Both Sookie and Rory hate squirrels too. Their hatred is manifested in their desire to capture a squirrel of their very own any time they see one. They whine beneath a tree when there’s a squirrel in it, they pull like crazy if we’re walking and they see a squirrel and they simply cannot understand why squirrels can run up trees and they can’t.
We call squirrels ‘dirty rotten cheaters’ because they sit there, taunting the dogs as we walk, chewing on some item that’s bigger than their heads whether it’s a tomato, a hickory nut, a slice of pizza or an apple and as soon as the dogs get close enough, they run up the nearest tree.
We consider that cheating. I do, however, marvel at how squirrels manage to climb trees without dropping their food items. It’s not fair that my dogs get so close and then the squirrel cheats by running out of reach.
Worse is when the squirrels talk back. They run up the tree and then sit there, making this weird chittering noise that sounds rather like they shouting at my dogs. This, in particular, drives Sookie a little nuts and she gets a little demented in her attempts to try to climb up the tree. Sookie, my sweet but not-as-bright-as-her-sister dog has not yet figured out that she cannot climb a tree. She tries. Oh, but she tries but she always ends up having to concede defeat. She’s a sweetie but there are times when she’s just a little, uh, dopey. Take for example when I try to put her harness on her for a walk. Rory long since figured out that if she steps into each leg hole, buckling the harness is harmless, easy and quick. Not Sookie. Sookie still acts like she thinks I’m going to hurt her when I approach with the harness. When I get her to stay still, I get her to lift a leg to coax her to put her foot in the leg hole. Then the leg stays lifted and I suddenly have a Three Legged Dachshund. She has stood like that for quite a while. I usually get her to put it down by manually lifting her other front leg. Of course, by this time, the first leg is no longer in the leg hole of the harness but it’s worth a shot. Of course, she ends up keeping this leg lifted for a while and we repeat the process until the harness is actually on. So, her constant attempts to climb trees are expected and, well, endearing.
I digress. Back to the squirrels.
Squirrels make our walks more interesting. There are huge amount in our neighbourhood and so when the weather is cool and breezy, they’re out in full force, gathering food and generally being obnoxious.
I can handle them on our walks. It takes a little wrangling to persuade two enthusiastic dachshunds that squirrels aren’t actually food and thus it’s not worth chasing them but it does keep our walks interesting.
I can’t handle them in the garden, however. There are a couple that live in my neighbour’s trees. They run around, jumping from fence to tree branch to bush to fence and so on. They torment Sookie and Rory by perching on the top of our chain link fence, doing that chittering thing a mere three feet above where Sookie stands on her back legs desperately trying to reach them. No matter how high she jumps she can’t quite bag herself a squirrel. The squirrel, meanwhile, clearly enjoys inflicting torment. I half expect them to pelt my dogs with acorns and berries. For all I know, they do.
The worst part is that they’re thieves and sneaks. Twice now, I’ve noticed that my lovely heirloom tomatoes are starting to ripen and I get excited. I decide that I’ll let them ripen a little more and then I’ll pick them. Lo and behold, twice now on my two largest tomatoes, I’ve gone out the next day to discover half-demolished tomatoes ridden with squirrel-sized toothmarks. The tomatoes are no good and I have to throw them away. They also eat my cherry tomatoes and I find them strewn on the ground, half-eaten. Honestly, I’d rather the bloody creatures just ate the whole tomato. At least then, it wouldn’t seem so obnoxious and wasteful.
The dogs are no help because the squirrels attack my tomatoes while they’re inside and I’m at work. Or they do it at night. I still blame Wife of Dog Whisperer who used to plant tomatoes strictly for the squirrels. They’ve got a taste now and since mine are gourmet tomatoes, heirlooms and lovely, they’re hell bent on eating them.
It’s time to declare war. I have some chicken wire that I’m going to attempt to use to secure the perimeter of my tomato patch. Rory and Sookie won’t like it because I’ve caught them having a bite out of the already squirrel- decimated tomatoes when they think I’m not looking. I suppose they smell of squirrel because they won’t eat tomatoes if I offer them normally.
I’ve been researching other ways of getting rid of squirrels. The internet recommends using dog hair around the plants. Since my girls are shedding rather a lot, I’ll use my Furminator on them tonight and try that method too. I’ve also given the dogs permission to seek and destroy but, alas, that’s not having any more effect than their usual attempts to seek and destroy. Apparently, they don’t need my permission.
I’m hoping to salvage the last of my heirlooms. I have a couple more and I’ve been waiting ages to pick them and enjoy them so you can see why the squirrels have inspired my ire. If I succeed in eating at least one of the delicious fruits that isn’t laden with bitemarks, I’ll be happy.
When it comes to my vegetables, it’s serious business. I will take no prisoners. Those squirrels have messed with my tomatoes for the last time.
Now, if only I could tell them that.
Happy Wednesday!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Preparation for the Great Garage Sale Event of 2011
I’ve decided having a garage sale is rather a lot of work. In theory, it seems like a good idea. I think it is a good idea. It’s just…a lot of work.
I’ve had the intention of having a garage sale for a while. I suppose since I’m not setting it up in my garage, it’s probably really a yard sale but I like the sound of garage sale better.
I had originally hoped to have a joint one with my sister but since that didn’t look like it was happening, I decided to join in our annual neighbourhood garage sale day which is this Saturday. Naturally, my sister decided to have a sale on the exact same day without telling me. I admit, I was a little irritated. It would have been nice to have a joint sale merely because it’s going to be tough to run one alone. It means that every trip inside to use the bathroom or grab something to drink or check on the dogs will have to be squeezed in quickly in order to make sure that my items being sold are guarded at all times and so that no one has to wait.
So, you can see why I’m a wee bit irritated especially as my sister will have backup from her husband whereas I, the singleton, won’t have backup.
Still, I’m determined to make it work. I don’t have a huge amount of stuff for sale. Mostly what I have are items that I once liked/loved and needed/wanted but over time I’ve either lost my need/want for them or they just don’t suit me. I have a lot of bags, for example. I went through a huge messenger bag phase. When I used to work on a college campus, this was perfectly ok. I had a use for messenger bags. Nowadays, I tend to use either my purse or the bag I got from work. That’s it. I have a bag that I use when I take the dogs to the park. I have another bag to use when I go to my parents. But the other ten bags? I really don’t need them anymore. That’s not an exaggeration, by the way. I have 11 bags/purses for sale.
I also have books, old appliances and some knickknacks for which I could never find a place. Redoing my 1970’s retro den and turning it into a Tuscan haven meant that I had a lot of stuff I’d tucked away in the den that no longer had a place in ‘Tuscany’.
I’m hoping to sell most of it. My strategy is to price is super low. I’m not really in it for the money as much as the ‘purging’. My highest priced item is a dog carrier that I used exactly once. It still has all the paperwork. I paid $45 for it. I bought it for Sookie when I first went to claim her as my own. Of course, when I ended up getting a Rory Gilmore to go with my Sookie Stackhouse dachshund pup, that put a bit of a damper on the small, individual-dachshund sized carrier. The two pups fitted in the carrier once- when I first brought them home. Then they grew and, voila, I had to upgrade to a larger carrier. I’m hoping that $20 won’t seem too much for it but it’s a super nice carrier and still way less expensive than in stores.
Mostly, I’m selling things for 25 cents, one dollar or, gasp, two dollars. I do have a rather lovely evening gown that I’m selling for $5 because while it still zips and technically fits, I’m a bit less of a stick insect than I was when I originally bought it and my curvier figure doesn’t suit the style.
The problem that I’m finding is that I’m a wee bit obsessed with my sale. It’s this coming Saturday and any time I allow my mind to drift and not focus on, say, work, I’m suddenly doing a mental tour of my house and thinking of other items I could stick in the sale.
The actual preparation for the sale is quite time-consuming too. I’ve been placing things that I intend to sell in a pile. Last night, I started to price things, thinking it’d take a short time. I’m not even half-way through. It’s amazing how many things can really fit in a large storage tote.
I plan on spending a little time each evening pricing out my items and making sure everything’s ready to go. Friday, I’ll have a checklist. I have things to do like running an extension cord outside so people can test the electronics I have. I’ll need to get everything ready to lay out. I plan on putting all my boxes of stuff out before I start putting it on the table. Even though the sale is supposed to start at 9 a.m., the irritating early birds will be out way before that. I’ve seen them before- they swarm on any sale that looks like it’s about to begin and start digging through boxes that aren’t even unpacked and ready for selling yet.
I think it’s going to be an interesting experience. I have a feeling Sookie and Rory might agree. Sookie will have plenty of people to guard me from as she watches from the front window. Guarding the house is Sookie’s hobby and any time an ‘interloper’ walks by the house, she lets me know with her “STRANGER DANGER” bark. I’m expecting a lot of “STRANGER DANGER” moments on Saturday.
I think I’ve covered my basis- I have plenty of change. I have a place to store the money. I have a table to sit at and a chair to match. I have a display rack, a table (although I really would have liked the other one my parents could have loaned me but my sister is borrowing that…grr) and a box of toys for the kids to rummage through. My experience of being a buyer at garage sales has taught me what to expect.
All that remains is organizing and pricing which may not seem like a lot of work but it is. I think I’m glad I have a few more days to go because I’d never get done otherwise. Of course, it would probably help if I didn’t keep thinking of new stuff to throw in the sale but I don’t seem to be able to help that.
I’ll keep you posted. Maybe by Friday…I’ll be done.
Maybe.
Happy Wednesday!
I’ve had the intention of having a garage sale for a while. I suppose since I’m not setting it up in my garage, it’s probably really a yard sale but I like the sound of garage sale better.
I had originally hoped to have a joint one with my sister but since that didn’t look like it was happening, I decided to join in our annual neighbourhood garage sale day which is this Saturday. Naturally, my sister decided to have a sale on the exact same day without telling me. I admit, I was a little irritated. It would have been nice to have a joint sale merely because it’s going to be tough to run one alone. It means that every trip inside to use the bathroom or grab something to drink or check on the dogs will have to be squeezed in quickly in order to make sure that my items being sold are guarded at all times and so that no one has to wait.
So, you can see why I’m a wee bit irritated especially as my sister will have backup from her husband whereas I, the singleton, won’t have backup.
Still, I’m determined to make it work. I don’t have a huge amount of stuff for sale. Mostly what I have are items that I once liked/loved and needed/wanted but over time I’ve either lost my need/want for them or they just don’t suit me. I have a lot of bags, for example. I went through a huge messenger bag phase. When I used to work on a college campus, this was perfectly ok. I had a use for messenger bags. Nowadays, I tend to use either my purse or the bag I got from work. That’s it. I have a bag that I use when I take the dogs to the park. I have another bag to use when I go to my parents. But the other ten bags? I really don’t need them anymore. That’s not an exaggeration, by the way. I have 11 bags/purses for sale.
I also have books, old appliances and some knickknacks for which I could never find a place. Redoing my 1970’s retro den and turning it into a Tuscan haven meant that I had a lot of stuff I’d tucked away in the den that no longer had a place in ‘Tuscany’.
I’m hoping to sell most of it. My strategy is to price is super low. I’m not really in it for the money as much as the ‘purging’. My highest priced item is a dog carrier that I used exactly once. It still has all the paperwork. I paid $45 for it. I bought it for Sookie when I first went to claim her as my own. Of course, when I ended up getting a Rory Gilmore to go with my Sookie Stackhouse dachshund pup, that put a bit of a damper on the small, individual-dachshund sized carrier. The two pups fitted in the carrier once- when I first brought them home. Then they grew and, voila, I had to upgrade to a larger carrier. I’m hoping that $20 won’t seem too much for it but it’s a super nice carrier and still way less expensive than in stores.
Mostly, I’m selling things for 25 cents, one dollar or, gasp, two dollars. I do have a rather lovely evening gown that I’m selling for $5 because while it still zips and technically fits, I’m a bit less of a stick insect than I was when I originally bought it and my curvier figure doesn’t suit the style.
The problem that I’m finding is that I’m a wee bit obsessed with my sale. It’s this coming Saturday and any time I allow my mind to drift and not focus on, say, work, I’m suddenly doing a mental tour of my house and thinking of other items I could stick in the sale.
The actual preparation for the sale is quite time-consuming too. I’ve been placing things that I intend to sell in a pile. Last night, I started to price things, thinking it’d take a short time. I’m not even half-way through. It’s amazing how many things can really fit in a large storage tote.
I plan on spending a little time each evening pricing out my items and making sure everything’s ready to go. Friday, I’ll have a checklist. I have things to do like running an extension cord outside so people can test the electronics I have. I’ll need to get everything ready to lay out. I plan on putting all my boxes of stuff out before I start putting it on the table. Even though the sale is supposed to start at 9 a.m., the irritating early birds will be out way before that. I’ve seen them before- they swarm on any sale that looks like it’s about to begin and start digging through boxes that aren’t even unpacked and ready for selling yet.
I think it’s going to be an interesting experience. I have a feeling Sookie and Rory might agree. Sookie will have plenty of people to guard me from as she watches from the front window. Guarding the house is Sookie’s hobby and any time an ‘interloper’ walks by the house, she lets me know with her “STRANGER DANGER” bark. I’m expecting a lot of “STRANGER DANGER” moments on Saturday.
I think I’ve covered my basis- I have plenty of change. I have a place to store the money. I have a table to sit at and a chair to match. I have a display rack, a table (although I really would have liked the other one my parents could have loaned me but my sister is borrowing that…grr) and a box of toys for the kids to rummage through. My experience of being a buyer at garage sales has taught me what to expect.
All that remains is organizing and pricing which may not seem like a lot of work but it is. I think I’m glad I have a few more days to go because I’d never get done otherwise. Of course, it would probably help if I didn’t keep thinking of new stuff to throw in the sale but I don’t seem to be able to help that.
I’ll keep you posted. Maybe by Friday…I’ll be done.
Maybe.
Happy Wednesday!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Doggy Days of Summer
It’s another hot one out there. I have two forlorn looking dogs who gleefully run outside when I first open the door and then they stop and turn and look at me accusingly as if to say, “mummy, why did you make it so hot!”
Then they come in and flop down on the linoleum because it’s cooler and they’re sulking.
They don’t move much when it’s hot, even when the air conditioning is on. I’m trying to figure out if this is normal behavior or they’re getting lazy in their old age. They’re now a year and a half old so they’re technically not puppies although there are times when they still behave like they are.
Mostly, their puppy behavior is when they’re outside. I love to watch them run across the yard. There’s nothing that makes me grin more than when one of my little dachshunds sees me and comes running towards me. Watching dachshunds run is just funny because they have short little legs and such long bodies. It’s an endearing thing especially when they look like their grinning.
They also have a bit of a bad habit of running across my vegetable garden. I’ve tried to protect the plants with tomato cages and stakes but those aren’t much of a deterrent when a rabbit, chipmunk or squirrel has been spotted. No, those little furry critters are like crack to a dachshund and nothing else matters, especially not my tomato plants.
This is why I have one less tomato plant and another that is hanging on for dear life, protected by a tomato cage but still looking rather wilty. I even planted my veggies with a fairly wide berth for the Dachshund Race Track but, alas, it is to no avail.
Speaking of the Dachshund Race Track…fellow dog owners, do your canines also have a set route at which they run around the garden? My two girls have a very specific path that they take from the back door all the way around the garden. They don’t deviate from this path, no matter how fast they run. This is why their paws have worn the path into the grass and my vegetable garden and around the tool shed. My parents’ dogs also have a path so I’m wondering if this is usual.
Anyway, back to my tomatoes. They often get banged about by my little pets. I’m hoping this won’t damage them. I’m all about tomatoes this year. My mother kindly gave me quite a few plants for my garden. The only thing is that she grows several kinds- large and cherry sized but she doesn’t label the pots so I never quite know what type of tomatoes I’ll get until they actually appear on the vines. It’s quite nice- a tomato grab bag if you will. However, last year, I ended up with almost all cherry tomatoes so just in case, I went to this nifty nursery by my house and got a few larger heirloom tomato plants. I adore heirloom tomatoes. They’re yummy. They’re summery. They also incredibly pricy if you buy them from a store or even a farmer’s market.
Thus, I’m trying to grow my own. I just hope they survive the onslaught of the pups.
I’m also growing peppers. I have several healthy plants that already have some fruit on them. The other day, I noticed that a couple of my plants were not looking so healthy and the bottom leaves were dying. I couldn’t figure out why since I make sure they have ample water.
Then yesterday, I went outside and discovered that Sookie was laying happily beside one of the suffering pepper plants and was chomping on the leaves. I’m not sure what about the leaves appeals to her but she seemed quite engrossed in her nibbling. So far, the plants look like they’ll survive but they have less leaves below than they did before.
My dogs are strange in their tastes. Rory has become super finicky with food. She only eats chicken and duck treats. She doesn’t like bacon whether it be the doggie kind or the human kind. She likes pork chop bones but not the pork. She likes peaches and blueberries but doesn’t want to eat dog food.
I know, I should really feed her human food but it’s a bad habit that I shouldn’t have started. I still make them eat their regular dog food but I’m one of the bad dog owners who feeds them table scraps. This is actually becoming much easier now that Rory’s palate has become so fussy.
Sookie, on the other hand, will try anything. She doesn’t like everything but she’ll give it a whirl. She’s not the fruitarian that her sister is and doesn’t care much for peaches or blueberries. She likes the chewbones that have granola on them and will happily munch for hours picking off each piece of granola while her sister prefers the chewbones that are rawhide with a filling in the middle.
Sorry to blog about my dogs again but, like children, they show you something new every day. Today, they showed me that they’re now taking it rather personally that it’s so hot outside and even though they don’t really want to go for a walk, they’ll sulk until I take them on one and then, as soon as we’re twenty feet from the house, they’ll sulk because they’re hot.
There’s really no winning. It’s just the same when it rains. I get accusatory looks for that too- they run outside, stop dead in their tracks as they realize it’s wet and then they trot back inside, giving me the glare of disapproval.
Still, for all their temperamental, vegetable bashing, pepper-leaf chewing behavior, when we’re laying in bed in the morning right before the alarm goes off and I have a dachshund under each arm, snuggled up against me or when Sookie spots me and comes running across the garden with glee to throw herself up against me for a cuddle. ..it’s worth every chewed pepper leaf.
Of course, I may reconsider that if they start on the heirloom tomatoes but that’s if we ever get that far and they haven’t knocked them all over.
Happy Wednesday!
Then they come in and flop down on the linoleum because it’s cooler and they’re sulking.
They don’t move much when it’s hot, even when the air conditioning is on. I’m trying to figure out if this is normal behavior or they’re getting lazy in their old age. They’re now a year and a half old so they’re technically not puppies although there are times when they still behave like they are.
Mostly, their puppy behavior is when they’re outside. I love to watch them run across the yard. There’s nothing that makes me grin more than when one of my little dachshunds sees me and comes running towards me. Watching dachshunds run is just funny because they have short little legs and such long bodies. It’s an endearing thing especially when they look like their grinning.
They also have a bit of a bad habit of running across my vegetable garden. I’ve tried to protect the plants with tomato cages and stakes but those aren’t much of a deterrent when a rabbit, chipmunk or squirrel has been spotted. No, those little furry critters are like crack to a dachshund and nothing else matters, especially not my tomato plants.
This is why I have one less tomato plant and another that is hanging on for dear life, protected by a tomato cage but still looking rather wilty. I even planted my veggies with a fairly wide berth for the Dachshund Race Track but, alas, it is to no avail.
Speaking of the Dachshund Race Track…fellow dog owners, do your canines also have a set route at which they run around the garden? My two girls have a very specific path that they take from the back door all the way around the garden. They don’t deviate from this path, no matter how fast they run. This is why their paws have worn the path into the grass and my vegetable garden and around the tool shed. My parents’ dogs also have a path so I’m wondering if this is usual.
Anyway, back to my tomatoes. They often get banged about by my little pets. I’m hoping this won’t damage them. I’m all about tomatoes this year. My mother kindly gave me quite a few plants for my garden. The only thing is that she grows several kinds- large and cherry sized but she doesn’t label the pots so I never quite know what type of tomatoes I’ll get until they actually appear on the vines. It’s quite nice- a tomato grab bag if you will. However, last year, I ended up with almost all cherry tomatoes so just in case, I went to this nifty nursery by my house and got a few larger heirloom tomato plants. I adore heirloom tomatoes. They’re yummy. They’re summery. They also incredibly pricy if you buy them from a store or even a farmer’s market.
Thus, I’m trying to grow my own. I just hope they survive the onslaught of the pups.
I’m also growing peppers. I have several healthy plants that already have some fruit on them. The other day, I noticed that a couple of my plants were not looking so healthy and the bottom leaves were dying. I couldn’t figure out why since I make sure they have ample water.
Then yesterday, I went outside and discovered that Sookie was laying happily beside one of the suffering pepper plants and was chomping on the leaves. I’m not sure what about the leaves appeals to her but she seemed quite engrossed in her nibbling. So far, the plants look like they’ll survive but they have less leaves below than they did before.
My dogs are strange in their tastes. Rory has become super finicky with food. She only eats chicken and duck treats. She doesn’t like bacon whether it be the doggie kind or the human kind. She likes pork chop bones but not the pork. She likes peaches and blueberries but doesn’t want to eat dog food.
I know, I should really feed her human food but it’s a bad habit that I shouldn’t have started. I still make them eat their regular dog food but I’m one of the bad dog owners who feeds them table scraps. This is actually becoming much easier now that Rory’s palate has become so fussy.
Sookie, on the other hand, will try anything. She doesn’t like everything but she’ll give it a whirl. She’s not the fruitarian that her sister is and doesn’t care much for peaches or blueberries. She likes the chewbones that have granola on them and will happily munch for hours picking off each piece of granola while her sister prefers the chewbones that are rawhide with a filling in the middle.
Sorry to blog about my dogs again but, like children, they show you something new every day. Today, they showed me that they’re now taking it rather personally that it’s so hot outside and even though they don’t really want to go for a walk, they’ll sulk until I take them on one and then, as soon as we’re twenty feet from the house, they’ll sulk because they’re hot.
There’s really no winning. It’s just the same when it rains. I get accusatory looks for that too- they run outside, stop dead in their tracks as they realize it’s wet and then they trot back inside, giving me the glare of disapproval.
Still, for all their temperamental, vegetable bashing, pepper-leaf chewing behavior, when we’re laying in bed in the morning right before the alarm goes off and I have a dachshund under each arm, snuggled up against me or when Sookie spots me and comes running across the garden with glee to throw herself up against me for a cuddle. ..it’s worth every chewed pepper leaf.
Of course, I may reconsider that if they start on the heirloom tomatoes but that’s if we ever get that far and they haven’t knocked them all over.
Happy Wednesday!
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Embracing the Season...Bugs, Worms and All
I woke up today and thought it was Friday. Needless to say, I was disappointed when I heard the sound of the Rumpke Recycling truck and soon after heard the sound of my recycling bin being emptied and realized as I lay in bed that it was, in fact, Thursday.
I decided to embrace the fact that I still had another day to go until the weekend because, well, I quite like Thursdays. They’re on the downward slide of the climb towards the weekend. Also, during the regular TV season, they’re good nights for TV. Also…I just like Thursdays.
When I got to work and we had our morning meeting, my boss asked if anyone else felt like it was Friday. I was surprised that several people said yes and not just me. It must be the anticipation of the three-day weekend.
Even though we do have to work tomorrow, I anticipate it being rather quiet. That’s the thing with holiday weekends. People leave early and come back late so the days before and after the holiday are pretty quiet.
I don’t mind. In there, for me, are three lovely days away from the office where I get to hang out with my mother and my pups and just enjoy the summer days.
Even though summer isn’t my favourite season, I’m finding ways to appreciate it. Obviously, the best way that I appreciate it is through food. I love summer food. I love going outside, picking fresh basil and tossing it with tomatoes and fresh mozzarella to make the perfect summer caprese salad. I love seeing the cucumber on my vine growing to the size of one you actually buy in a store and knowing that I had a part in that cucumber growing. I love the promise of my own fresh tomatoes as the first flowers on my tomato plants appear.
Most of all, I love that everything is so…fresh.
That’s the thing with winter food. While I love it’s heartiness and the comfort food overtones of autumn and winter flavours, it’s not fresh. It’s heavy as cold-weather food should be.
It’s why I love the seasons. It’s so nice that when we’re finally getting tired of salads and grilled fare, it’s time to bring out the pumpkins, winter squash and stewed dishes. Then, when we’re growing tired of heavier winter fare suddenly the first asparagus and fresh vegetables appear in the stores.
So, even though I’m not a fan of the heat and humidity of the lazy days of summer, I do appreciate the fresh produce it gives me. I love grilling a piece of fish quickly and having it with two sides of fresh veggies.
I also love that I can sit outside in the evenings and appreciate the summer nights. Granted, these evenings are accompanied by the gentle ‘whirr’ of my Off battery operated mosquito fan but it’s still a nice way to spend the evenings. I do think that the mosquito fan works. The only thing is that it only works on mosquitoes. There are still plenty of other irritating little insect life forms that circle but since they don’t bite like mosquitoes, it’s not so bad.
I like to sit outside until it’s just about to get dark when the fireflies first come out. I find there’s something magical about fireflies. One minute, it’s dusk and then it’s filled with these little sparks of green glow that flicker out so quickly you wonder if they were ever there.
My only problem with the fireflies is that I have to remind Sookie constantly not to eat them. Unfortunately, she’s got a certain fondness towards eating bugs. Well, she doesn’t actually eat them as much as like to catch them with her mouth for sport. Of course, she accidentally kills them at which point they’re no longer fun and she spits them out. Sometimes, she brings them as a gift. It’s a little vile but a dog’s got to do what a dog’s got to do.
Rory, on the other hand, doesn’t like bugs. Her preference is worms- dried ones. I discovered when we were out for a walk one night after it had been rainy for a few days and then the sun had been shining for a few more. The rain had caused a mass population of worms to be washed onto the paths and roads. Then, when the sun shone, they dried up and their little dessicated corpses were all that remained.
To me, they were rather yucky little additions to our nightly work. To Rory, they were a sumptuous feast. It took me a while to realize why it was taking my little dachshund so long to catch up to Sookie and I when I realized she was trying to eat all the worms.
Yes, again, this is a little vile. However…worms are supposed to nutritious…right? I did try and stop her for a while but unless we just stopped going for walks, the sheer amount of dried worms that were out there made it impossible. Also, we had some on our patio. I just made sure to give her some teeth cleaning biscuits after she’d had her ‘feast’.
I will say that the eating of the worms and bugs are not exactly one of the best things about summer but, well, in the winter, I deal with snow-covered dogs who like to go out and roll in the white stuff and then come in and roll on the carpet to get the snow off.
Each season has its merits. When summer gets really hot, muggy and comfortable, I might start looking towards Autumn but, for now, I’m enjoying the fact that the summer bring fresh food, long days and fireflies.
I also like that it brings us a nice long Fourth of July Weekend. I intend to enjoy mine. I hope you do too!
Happy Friday!
I decided to embrace the fact that I still had another day to go until the weekend because, well, I quite like Thursdays. They’re on the downward slide of the climb towards the weekend. Also, during the regular TV season, they’re good nights for TV. Also…I just like Thursdays.
When I got to work and we had our morning meeting, my boss asked if anyone else felt like it was Friday. I was surprised that several people said yes and not just me. It must be the anticipation of the three-day weekend.
Even though we do have to work tomorrow, I anticipate it being rather quiet. That’s the thing with holiday weekends. People leave early and come back late so the days before and after the holiday are pretty quiet.
I don’t mind. In there, for me, are three lovely days away from the office where I get to hang out with my mother and my pups and just enjoy the summer days.
Even though summer isn’t my favourite season, I’m finding ways to appreciate it. Obviously, the best way that I appreciate it is through food. I love summer food. I love going outside, picking fresh basil and tossing it with tomatoes and fresh mozzarella to make the perfect summer caprese salad. I love seeing the cucumber on my vine growing to the size of one you actually buy in a store and knowing that I had a part in that cucumber growing. I love the promise of my own fresh tomatoes as the first flowers on my tomato plants appear.
Most of all, I love that everything is so…fresh.
That’s the thing with winter food. While I love it’s heartiness and the comfort food overtones of autumn and winter flavours, it’s not fresh. It’s heavy as cold-weather food should be.
It’s why I love the seasons. It’s so nice that when we’re finally getting tired of salads and grilled fare, it’s time to bring out the pumpkins, winter squash and stewed dishes. Then, when we’re growing tired of heavier winter fare suddenly the first asparagus and fresh vegetables appear in the stores.
So, even though I’m not a fan of the heat and humidity of the lazy days of summer, I do appreciate the fresh produce it gives me. I love grilling a piece of fish quickly and having it with two sides of fresh veggies.
I also love that I can sit outside in the evenings and appreciate the summer nights. Granted, these evenings are accompanied by the gentle ‘whirr’ of my Off battery operated mosquito fan but it’s still a nice way to spend the evenings. I do think that the mosquito fan works. The only thing is that it only works on mosquitoes. There are still plenty of other irritating little insect life forms that circle but since they don’t bite like mosquitoes, it’s not so bad.
I like to sit outside until it’s just about to get dark when the fireflies first come out. I find there’s something magical about fireflies. One minute, it’s dusk and then it’s filled with these little sparks of green glow that flicker out so quickly you wonder if they were ever there.
My only problem with the fireflies is that I have to remind Sookie constantly not to eat them. Unfortunately, she’s got a certain fondness towards eating bugs. Well, she doesn’t actually eat them as much as like to catch them with her mouth for sport. Of course, she accidentally kills them at which point they’re no longer fun and she spits them out. Sometimes, she brings them as a gift. It’s a little vile but a dog’s got to do what a dog’s got to do.
Rory, on the other hand, doesn’t like bugs. Her preference is worms- dried ones. I discovered when we were out for a walk one night after it had been rainy for a few days and then the sun had been shining for a few more. The rain had caused a mass population of worms to be washed onto the paths and roads. Then, when the sun shone, they dried up and their little dessicated corpses were all that remained.
To me, they were rather yucky little additions to our nightly work. To Rory, they were a sumptuous feast. It took me a while to realize why it was taking my little dachshund so long to catch up to Sookie and I when I realized she was trying to eat all the worms.
Yes, again, this is a little vile. However…worms are supposed to nutritious…right? I did try and stop her for a while but unless we just stopped going for walks, the sheer amount of dried worms that were out there made it impossible. Also, we had some on our patio. I just made sure to give her some teeth cleaning biscuits after she’d had her ‘feast’.
I will say that the eating of the worms and bugs are not exactly one of the best things about summer but, well, in the winter, I deal with snow-covered dogs who like to go out and roll in the white stuff and then come in and roll on the carpet to get the snow off.
Each season has its merits. When summer gets really hot, muggy and comfortable, I might start looking towards Autumn but, for now, I’m enjoying the fact that the summer bring fresh food, long days and fireflies.
I also like that it brings us a nice long Fourth of July Weekend. I intend to enjoy mine. I hope you do too!
Happy Friday!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wrong Side of Bed Days
Today was one of those days where I woke up in a bad mood and it didn’t get better. As a child on days like this, my mother would say I got out on the wrong side of a bed. I was a bit literal as a child and would be a bit baffled by this because for many years, my bed was against a wall and thus there was only one side on which I could exit but, as I got older, I realized it wasn’t a literal phrase.
Still, I do try to get out on the same side of the bed every day anyway. This isn’t always easy when the pups are splayed out and I have to climb over them. Since Sookie has taken to sleeping on my legs, this is rather difficult.
Nevertheless, I do feel like I got out of bed on the wrong side. I’ve just felt crabby all day. Work isn’t going fabulously lately. I feel like I’m doing a lot of work but nothing is happening and I’m stuck in a rut. I’m hoping it’s just a phase again and that things will pick up but I do prefer it when I have a lot of things happening.
The problem with work is that even when I don’t mind going, it ends up being the recipient of my bad mood. This is the problem with spending 8+ hours a day in the same place. Even when it’s not work causing the bad mood, I take the bad mood with me.
Still, for a bad moody kind of day, it went pretty quickly. I don’t feel like I got anything accomplished but that’s because it was one of those days where I had a lot going on but nothing to show for it at the end of the day.
On the plus side, it’s a beautiful evening. The sun is shining and the humidity is low. Since it’s July, days like this will become rarer so I am taking the time to appreciate it while I can. This includes mowing the lawn which is a necessary evil. I’m sure I’ll get to relax outside afterwards but, for now, lawn mowing has become less of the bane of my existence and, instead, I actually quite like it. I find it relaxing. Well, I should say, I mostly find it relaxing. It’s not so relaxing when there are three beasts in Dog Whisperer’s yard trying to yap themselves to death as I mow but, generally speaking, I’ve found that if I yell at them, Dog Whisperer comes out, throws me a dirty look and brings them inside. I’m not fond of having to yell, honestly. I’d prefer that Dog Whisperer actually noticed that his dogs were close to apoplexy in their loud, shrill annoying barking but, alas, he rarely does. If I yell, I think he hears that, especially as it’s generally, “SHUT UP!” I don’t think he likes me shouting at his beasts but someone has to do it, I think.
I’m finding that in addition to the fact that the dogs are rather annoying with their frantic barking, my dogs are often blamed as being the noisy dogs. This is because I walk the girls every day and I get out and about. People like to stop and greet us and several times, I’ve had comments such as “Are these the ones that like to make all the noise?”
I have to politely explain that while Rory and Sookie do have a yip on occasion, they are not constantly yipping at everything that moves. I don’t like them getting blamed unfairly. I do confess that lately, Rory has been quite…vocal…outside but it’s by far a different type of vocal that the cacophony of demented barking that comes from next door.
Rory’s barking is more of a summons. When Sookie and I sit down in the evenings or if I’m blogging and on the computer, Rory has taken to going and sitting outside the back door on the grass. Then, without fail, she sends up a couple of barks. Her bark isn’t a woof…it’s more an indignant cry. It seriously sounds like she’s yipping: “Come out here! I’m bored!” And she keeps making the sound until either I or Sookie goes out to see her. Usually it’s me. Rory proceeds to get excited to see me and follows me back inside. If I dare start emailing or blogging, the whole process starts over. Only am I ready to sit down and watch her play with her toys, perhaps joining in, does she settle down.
Yes, my dogs are needy. I probably shouldn’t indulge them but I do. I have to admit that I quite enjoy it. They have personalities and that makes life more fun.
Also, they somehow manage to drive the bad moods right out of me when I get home from work and there’s a lot to be said for that.
If only I could take them to work.
Happy Wednesday and thanks for reading!
Still, I do try to get out on the same side of the bed every day anyway. This isn’t always easy when the pups are splayed out and I have to climb over them. Since Sookie has taken to sleeping on my legs, this is rather difficult.
Nevertheless, I do feel like I got out of bed on the wrong side. I’ve just felt crabby all day. Work isn’t going fabulously lately. I feel like I’m doing a lot of work but nothing is happening and I’m stuck in a rut. I’m hoping it’s just a phase again and that things will pick up but I do prefer it when I have a lot of things happening.
The problem with work is that even when I don’t mind going, it ends up being the recipient of my bad mood. This is the problem with spending 8+ hours a day in the same place. Even when it’s not work causing the bad mood, I take the bad mood with me.
Still, for a bad moody kind of day, it went pretty quickly. I don’t feel like I got anything accomplished but that’s because it was one of those days where I had a lot going on but nothing to show for it at the end of the day.
On the plus side, it’s a beautiful evening. The sun is shining and the humidity is low. Since it’s July, days like this will become rarer so I am taking the time to appreciate it while I can. This includes mowing the lawn which is a necessary evil. I’m sure I’ll get to relax outside afterwards but, for now, lawn mowing has become less of the bane of my existence and, instead, I actually quite like it. I find it relaxing. Well, I should say, I mostly find it relaxing. It’s not so relaxing when there are three beasts in Dog Whisperer’s yard trying to yap themselves to death as I mow but, generally speaking, I’ve found that if I yell at them, Dog Whisperer comes out, throws me a dirty look and brings them inside. I’m not fond of having to yell, honestly. I’d prefer that Dog Whisperer actually noticed that his dogs were close to apoplexy in their loud, shrill annoying barking but, alas, he rarely does. If I yell, I think he hears that, especially as it’s generally, “SHUT UP!” I don’t think he likes me shouting at his beasts but someone has to do it, I think.
I’m finding that in addition to the fact that the dogs are rather annoying with their frantic barking, my dogs are often blamed as being the noisy dogs. This is because I walk the girls every day and I get out and about. People like to stop and greet us and several times, I’ve had comments such as “Are these the ones that like to make all the noise?”
I have to politely explain that while Rory and Sookie do have a yip on occasion, they are not constantly yipping at everything that moves. I don’t like them getting blamed unfairly. I do confess that lately, Rory has been quite…vocal…outside but it’s by far a different type of vocal that the cacophony of demented barking that comes from next door.
Rory’s barking is more of a summons. When Sookie and I sit down in the evenings or if I’m blogging and on the computer, Rory has taken to going and sitting outside the back door on the grass. Then, without fail, she sends up a couple of barks. Her bark isn’t a woof…it’s more an indignant cry. It seriously sounds like she’s yipping: “Come out here! I’m bored!” And she keeps making the sound until either I or Sookie goes out to see her. Usually it’s me. Rory proceeds to get excited to see me and follows me back inside. If I dare start emailing or blogging, the whole process starts over. Only am I ready to sit down and watch her play with her toys, perhaps joining in, does she settle down.
Yes, my dogs are needy. I probably shouldn’t indulge them but I do. I have to admit that I quite enjoy it. They have personalities and that makes life more fun.
Also, they somehow manage to drive the bad moods right out of me when I get home from work and there’s a lot to be said for that.
If only I could take them to work.
Happy Wednesday and thanks for reading!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
For the Love of Two Dachshunds...
I think that no matter how much I try to be mistress of my two dogs, it is really they who are the mistresses of me.
I don’t think that’s exactly a surprise.
It’s actually more of a situation that I find occurs with cat owners. In my experience, cats never belong to a human being. Instead, the human being belongs to them.
This is a situation I’ve tried to avoid with my dachshunds. However, I think it might be time to face the truth. Even though I pay the bills, clean the house and feed them, I do, occasionally, feel a little like a sucker.
For example, I’ve mentioned that Rory has lately taken to protesting the heat by sitting down when we’re out for a walk. The walk usually occurs after I’ve already decided it’s too hot and rather than have to deal with a stubborn dachshund, it would be better for us all if we bypass the walk in the heat and just spend time in the garden.
Unfortunately, at about the same time every evening, I am approached by Rory and Sookie who go and sit by the front door, expectantly. They know it’s time for walkies and no matter what I do, they will either sit and stare at me in reproach or follow me around, accusingly, until I give in and walk them.
This may not sound like much of a threat but, trust me, of all the dog breeds out there, dachshunds, in my opinion, are among the most talented at making you feel horribly sad and guilty just by looking at their big, sad, pathetic eyes.
So, I usually give in and take them for a walk. As anticipated, Rory sits down at certain points of the walk because she’s hot. She prefers to sit on longer grassy patches under a tree. I’m sure this is because it’s fairly cool compared to the heat of the pavement.
It was a nuisance but I usually managed to get her moving.
Then Sookie seemed to decide that “if Rory’s doing it, I will too.” And she, too, began to simply lie down when we’d walked enough and she got hot.
This was a wee bit embarrassing, as you can imagine. However, I could eventually get them up and moving. A squirrel or bird got them moving more quickly. It’s amazing how fast they could recover from their ‘heatstroke’ that caused them to lie down when a squirrel scampered by.
Then, last week, it got worse. Rory would not budge. She stubbornly refused to walk any further and plonked herself down on all fours, back feet kicked out in the irritatingly cute way she sits and that was it.
Thus, I ended up carrying her. Sookie, fortunately, walked along behind us while I carried Rory.
Yes, I was a little embarrassed. Well, more than a little embarrassed. When you’re out for a walk with your dogs, it makes far more sense when they actually walk.
I ended up putting Rory down and making her walk the last 50 feet to our house on her own legs. Nevertheless, it taught me a valuable lesson that when it’s hot, no matter how pleading the eyes, we will NOT go for a walk because, in the end, I will most likely be the only one walking.
Last night, on our walk, it was thankfully cooler and I had only one ‘sitting down’ incident which ended up actually being Rory relieving herself and not actually sitting. Oops.
We did, however, have another incident. Someone had thrown some type of pork bone outside one of the houses along our walk. Because I don’t usually look down at the ground when I walk, I didn’t notice it until Rory seized it and started to chomp on it.
I hate when this happens. I mentioned in an earlier blog that we’re always running into chicken wing bones and that irritates me. Those also worry me because in addition to it being rather vile when one of the girls tries to eat it, I know chicken bones are bad for dogs because they splinter.
I’m not happy that my dogs eat bones that they find. However, the reality is that they’re dogs and, well, that’s what dogs do. They like to eat bones. Dogs eat bones. Cat eat fish. At least this is what cartoons have portrayed for many years.
Anyway, when I saw Rory with the pork bone, I did not really want her to eat it because, well, you don’t know where that bone had been. So, as I usually do with the chicken bones, I showed her the treat I had for her to try to get her to drop the bone. This usually works 75% of the time. The other 25%, I try to grab the bone from her mouth, toss it away and give her a treat instead.
That didn’t work last night. Instead, Rory bit down on my fingers and I ended up with two puncture wounds and she ended up with the bone.
The wounds weren’t deep but I was a little upset. I knew instantly that it was an accident and my fingers were just in the way of her bone. It was a little silly to reach into her mouth anyway- normally, I don’t have to- I can grab the piece of bone that’s sticking out of her mouth and gently pry it away.
We were almost home when she found the bone. By the time we got home, my finger was bleeding, I was upset that my little pup had bitten me even though I knew it was my fault and I was just generally feeling horrible.
Rory, being the smart creature she is, knew she’d done something wrong. I tried not to be upset with her but it was hard because my feelings were hurt. It’s the same type of hurt I felt when they escaped out of the gate for the first time when I brought them home: Rationally, I knew that they didn’t understand and were just hunting prey. Irrationally, I felt like they were trying to get away from me.
Last night, even though I rationally knew Rory didn’t mean to hurt me, the irrational side of my brain was hurt anyway. I was bleeding and my little ball of fluff had bitten me because of a stupid bone.
I tried very hard to stay mad at her but, well, as I said, I’ve realized she’s really the mistress of me and as she attempted to cram as much of her body up against me in the strange way she has when she needs comfort and love, I realized that I was being silly. As such, a few mouth cleansing biscuits later, we’d made up.
I suppose that it’s like any relationship that involves unconditional love: No matter what she does, I can’t help but love her and forgive her. As I said, she didn’t mean to do it and she made sure I knew she was sorry. Sookie, meanwhile, just watched us in the way she has. She gets very serious and watches me solemnly, trying to figure out if I’m a) ok, b) angry with HER and c) willing to give her a cuddle to prove everything’s ok.
I know, I know…my dogs are spoiled rotten. I know this. I can’t help this. This is why I end up carrying my poor, lazy, heat-suffering pup a block or two instead of dragging her along on a leash. This is why I often end up stuck in a small corner of my bed while my two dogs stretch out and make themselves comfy. This is why my dogs have an overflowing toy box including a new orange monkey because I couldn’t resist.
Yet for all that I give them, they do give it back to me. This morning, I woke up to discover Rory lying parallel to me, her head on my pillow and her nose just very barely touching mine, her eyes watching me sweetly, waiting for me to wake. For non-dog lovers/owners, that sounds weird but, for me, it makes me feel very loved and needed.
And no matter who the mistress of the house really is, that’s worth every treat I give them.
I don’t think that’s exactly a surprise.
It’s actually more of a situation that I find occurs with cat owners. In my experience, cats never belong to a human being. Instead, the human being belongs to them.
This is a situation I’ve tried to avoid with my dachshunds. However, I think it might be time to face the truth. Even though I pay the bills, clean the house and feed them, I do, occasionally, feel a little like a sucker.
For example, I’ve mentioned that Rory has lately taken to protesting the heat by sitting down when we’re out for a walk. The walk usually occurs after I’ve already decided it’s too hot and rather than have to deal with a stubborn dachshund, it would be better for us all if we bypass the walk in the heat and just spend time in the garden.
Unfortunately, at about the same time every evening, I am approached by Rory and Sookie who go and sit by the front door, expectantly. They know it’s time for walkies and no matter what I do, they will either sit and stare at me in reproach or follow me around, accusingly, until I give in and walk them.
This may not sound like much of a threat but, trust me, of all the dog breeds out there, dachshunds, in my opinion, are among the most talented at making you feel horribly sad and guilty just by looking at their big, sad, pathetic eyes.
So, I usually give in and take them for a walk. As anticipated, Rory sits down at certain points of the walk because she’s hot. She prefers to sit on longer grassy patches under a tree. I’m sure this is because it’s fairly cool compared to the heat of the pavement.
It was a nuisance but I usually managed to get her moving.
Then Sookie seemed to decide that “if Rory’s doing it, I will too.” And she, too, began to simply lie down when we’d walked enough and she got hot.
This was a wee bit embarrassing, as you can imagine. However, I could eventually get them up and moving. A squirrel or bird got them moving more quickly. It’s amazing how fast they could recover from their ‘heatstroke’ that caused them to lie down when a squirrel scampered by.
Then, last week, it got worse. Rory would not budge. She stubbornly refused to walk any further and plonked herself down on all fours, back feet kicked out in the irritatingly cute way she sits and that was it.
Thus, I ended up carrying her. Sookie, fortunately, walked along behind us while I carried Rory.
Yes, I was a little embarrassed. Well, more than a little embarrassed. When you’re out for a walk with your dogs, it makes far more sense when they actually walk.
I ended up putting Rory down and making her walk the last 50 feet to our house on her own legs. Nevertheless, it taught me a valuable lesson that when it’s hot, no matter how pleading the eyes, we will NOT go for a walk because, in the end, I will most likely be the only one walking.
Last night, on our walk, it was thankfully cooler and I had only one ‘sitting down’ incident which ended up actually being Rory relieving herself and not actually sitting. Oops.
We did, however, have another incident. Someone had thrown some type of pork bone outside one of the houses along our walk. Because I don’t usually look down at the ground when I walk, I didn’t notice it until Rory seized it and started to chomp on it.
I hate when this happens. I mentioned in an earlier blog that we’re always running into chicken wing bones and that irritates me. Those also worry me because in addition to it being rather vile when one of the girls tries to eat it, I know chicken bones are bad for dogs because they splinter.
I’m not happy that my dogs eat bones that they find. However, the reality is that they’re dogs and, well, that’s what dogs do. They like to eat bones. Dogs eat bones. Cat eat fish. At least this is what cartoons have portrayed for many years.
Anyway, when I saw Rory with the pork bone, I did not really want her to eat it because, well, you don’t know where that bone had been. So, as I usually do with the chicken bones, I showed her the treat I had for her to try to get her to drop the bone. This usually works 75% of the time. The other 25%, I try to grab the bone from her mouth, toss it away and give her a treat instead.
That didn’t work last night. Instead, Rory bit down on my fingers and I ended up with two puncture wounds and she ended up with the bone.
The wounds weren’t deep but I was a little upset. I knew instantly that it was an accident and my fingers were just in the way of her bone. It was a little silly to reach into her mouth anyway- normally, I don’t have to- I can grab the piece of bone that’s sticking out of her mouth and gently pry it away.
We were almost home when she found the bone. By the time we got home, my finger was bleeding, I was upset that my little pup had bitten me even though I knew it was my fault and I was just generally feeling horrible.
Rory, being the smart creature she is, knew she’d done something wrong. I tried not to be upset with her but it was hard because my feelings were hurt. It’s the same type of hurt I felt when they escaped out of the gate for the first time when I brought them home: Rationally, I knew that they didn’t understand and were just hunting prey. Irrationally, I felt like they were trying to get away from me.
Last night, even though I rationally knew Rory didn’t mean to hurt me, the irrational side of my brain was hurt anyway. I was bleeding and my little ball of fluff had bitten me because of a stupid bone.
I tried very hard to stay mad at her but, well, as I said, I’ve realized she’s really the mistress of me and as she attempted to cram as much of her body up against me in the strange way she has when she needs comfort and love, I realized that I was being silly. As such, a few mouth cleansing biscuits later, we’d made up.
I suppose that it’s like any relationship that involves unconditional love: No matter what she does, I can’t help but love her and forgive her. As I said, she didn’t mean to do it and she made sure I knew she was sorry. Sookie, meanwhile, just watched us in the way she has. She gets very serious and watches me solemnly, trying to figure out if I’m a) ok, b) angry with HER and c) willing to give her a cuddle to prove everything’s ok.
I know, I know…my dogs are spoiled rotten. I know this. I can’t help this. This is why I end up carrying my poor, lazy, heat-suffering pup a block or two instead of dragging her along on a leash. This is why I often end up stuck in a small corner of my bed while my two dogs stretch out and make themselves comfy. This is why my dogs have an overflowing toy box including a new orange monkey because I couldn’t resist.
Yet for all that I give them, they do give it back to me. This morning, I woke up to discover Rory lying parallel to me, her head on my pillow and her nose just very barely touching mine, her eyes watching me sweetly, waiting for me to wake. For non-dog lovers/owners, that sounds weird but, for me, it makes me feel very loved and needed.
And no matter who the mistress of the house really is, that’s worth every treat I give them.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Perfectly Ending Weekends...
There's little more satisfying than sitting outside on a beautiful Sunday evening with a glass of sauvignon blanc and a feeling of accomplishment.
At long last, the weather has turned into the beautiful spring days expected of early June. The humidity is gone, the breeze is cool and the temperature is reading 78 degrees.
I can't argue with that. This is the weather I've been craving and now it's here, I took full advantage of it.
We did have a hot and humid day yesterday. I decided to forge ahead and lay down the vinyl tiles on the floor. It was hot work but with the help of some upbeat music such as Guns n' Roses, Bon Jovi and, of course, Green Day, coupled with some Frank Sinatra, it wasn't too bad. Of course, Sookie and Rory were of no help at all. For some reason, they decided their job was to lie and doze in the exact spot that I was intending to tile. Also, they decided it was their job to show me that they loved me by trying to climb in my lap. This was appreciated except my fingers were always a little gluey from the sticky tiles and dachshund hair is not fun to have to scrub off with the glue.
Still, I got the job done. The only minor mishap was that during a particularly enthusiastic moment with my Fat Max knife (it's real name!) in which I was cutting a tile to size, I accidentally sliced off the top of my finger. Fortunately, my nail was long and that prevented too much damage but as it stands, I now have a bit of a flat finger and rather a deep cut which went several layers deep. There was quite a lot of blood too. I'm not particularly squeamish but it was not the prettiest thing. Since I originally thought I'd actually sliced my finger off, I was, however, relieved it wasn't that dire.
By the time the room was done, so was Saturday, for the most part. I was pleased with my handiwork. Even though it's not perfect and completely flawless, I love the way the new tile looks and, even better, I did it myself.
Today, I bought some rugs for the room. I bought a 5' x 8' rug and two 2' x 3' rugs for $50. I have a great store nearby for stuff like that called Old Tyme Pottery. It's also fantastic for dinnerware. If ever I'm cooking something fancy and don't have the right plates, that's where I go.
So, with the addition of the rugs, at long last, I can say my Tuscan room is complete. The last touches will be two pieces of unfinished furniture that I want to get and stain myself in a rustic green colour. I need a chest of drawers to hide some of the 'contempory' stuff that I want to store in the room and not display such as my Playstation 2 and I'd like a free standing cupboard for all of my kitchen applicances that don't quite fit in my kitchen cupboards.
Still, even without the furniture, it's a pleasure to sit in that room now. Before I redid it, the room had 1970's dark panelled walls, orange-green shag carpet and rather frumpy flowered curtains that were lovingly made by the former owner of the house but just not my taste. Now, the panellng is a sunny yellow, the floor is mock-teracotta vinyl tiles and the curtains are simple white muslin tied backed with red raffia. I like the final effect. On each wall is a variation on a picture of Tuscany with poppies in the forefront. I love poppies. Poppies are one of those flowers that just make me smile when I see them.
Even though I woke up today stiff and sore from my tiling, I still had an odd need to be productive. Some weekends are like that- I just want to get things done. Thus, I spent the day doing the following:
1) Buying rugs
2) Exchanging the propane tank for my grill. I've become a huge fan of grilling lately. It's quick, easy and the result is pretty darn yummy.
3) Grocery shopping at Jungle Jim's/shopping for my dad's Father's Day present. I'm making him lunch as part of his gift but it isn't as complex as the five-course meal I made for Mother's Day so I got him a bottle of Santa Margherita Chianti to try. He loves the Pinot Grigio and he's a fan of Chianti so it seemed like a smart choice.
4) Mowing the lawn.
5) Weeding the front garden.
6) Making a yummy Fourme d'Ambert baguette sandwich for lunch. Fourme d'Ambert is my current favourite cheese- it's a blue, creamy cheese from France and it's heavenly. I've decided my next culinary challenge is to learn about cheeses. (side note: I need a good book about cheese- any recommendations?)
7) Planting my vegetable garden- I planted peppers, heirloom tomatoes, squash and cucumbers.
8) Cleaning my patio, finally putting my outdoor rug down and setting out the furniture.
9) Cleaning my house- mopping, vacuuming, dusting and bathroom scrubbing.
10) Walking the pups.
11) Sitting outside with a glass of wine and being happy that I've had a productive weekend.
Obviously, the last one is where I am now. I'm smelling both the scent of fresh-cut grass coupled with Pine Sol. It's a good smell. I find that some weekends are best for relaxing but others, like this one, are best spent getting things done. I have to say, I like being productive. It's a wonderful feeling.
Even though it's back to work tomorrow, I can live with that because even though the weekend is waning away, it's waning away as I continue to sit outside, with my laptop, a glass of wine and a dachshund on my lap. It's another one of those moments that's as close to perfect as life gets.
And you just can't beat that, even when a Monday is looming.
Happy Monday!
At long last, the weather has turned into the beautiful spring days expected of early June. The humidity is gone, the breeze is cool and the temperature is reading 78 degrees.
I can't argue with that. This is the weather I've been craving and now it's here, I took full advantage of it.
We did have a hot and humid day yesterday. I decided to forge ahead and lay down the vinyl tiles on the floor. It was hot work but with the help of some upbeat music such as Guns n' Roses, Bon Jovi and, of course, Green Day, coupled with some Frank Sinatra, it wasn't too bad. Of course, Sookie and Rory were of no help at all. For some reason, they decided their job was to lie and doze in the exact spot that I was intending to tile. Also, they decided it was their job to show me that they loved me by trying to climb in my lap. This was appreciated except my fingers were always a little gluey from the sticky tiles and dachshund hair is not fun to have to scrub off with the glue.
Still, I got the job done. The only minor mishap was that during a particularly enthusiastic moment with my Fat Max knife (it's real name!) in which I was cutting a tile to size, I accidentally sliced off the top of my finger. Fortunately, my nail was long and that prevented too much damage but as it stands, I now have a bit of a flat finger and rather a deep cut which went several layers deep. There was quite a lot of blood too. I'm not particularly squeamish but it was not the prettiest thing. Since I originally thought I'd actually sliced my finger off, I was, however, relieved it wasn't that dire.
By the time the room was done, so was Saturday, for the most part. I was pleased with my handiwork. Even though it's not perfect and completely flawless, I love the way the new tile looks and, even better, I did it myself.
Today, I bought some rugs for the room. I bought a 5' x 8' rug and two 2' x 3' rugs for $50. I have a great store nearby for stuff like that called Old Tyme Pottery. It's also fantastic for dinnerware. If ever I'm cooking something fancy and don't have the right plates, that's where I go.
So, with the addition of the rugs, at long last, I can say my Tuscan room is complete. The last touches will be two pieces of unfinished furniture that I want to get and stain myself in a rustic green colour. I need a chest of drawers to hide some of the 'contempory' stuff that I want to store in the room and not display such as my Playstation 2 and I'd like a free standing cupboard for all of my kitchen applicances that don't quite fit in my kitchen cupboards.
Still, even without the furniture, it's a pleasure to sit in that room now. Before I redid it, the room had 1970's dark panelled walls, orange-green shag carpet and rather frumpy flowered curtains that were lovingly made by the former owner of the house but just not my taste. Now, the panellng is a sunny yellow, the floor is mock-teracotta vinyl tiles and the curtains are simple white muslin tied backed with red raffia. I like the final effect. On each wall is a variation on a picture of Tuscany with poppies in the forefront. I love poppies. Poppies are one of those flowers that just make me smile when I see them.
Even though I woke up today stiff and sore from my tiling, I still had an odd need to be productive. Some weekends are like that- I just want to get things done. Thus, I spent the day doing the following:
1) Buying rugs
2) Exchanging the propane tank for my grill. I've become a huge fan of grilling lately. It's quick, easy and the result is pretty darn yummy.
3) Grocery shopping at Jungle Jim's/shopping for my dad's Father's Day present. I'm making him lunch as part of his gift but it isn't as complex as the five-course meal I made for Mother's Day so I got him a bottle of Santa Margherita Chianti to try. He loves the Pinot Grigio and he's a fan of Chianti so it seemed like a smart choice.
4) Mowing the lawn.
5) Weeding the front garden.
6) Making a yummy Fourme d'Ambert baguette sandwich for lunch. Fourme d'Ambert is my current favourite cheese- it's a blue, creamy cheese from France and it's heavenly. I've decided my next culinary challenge is to learn about cheeses. (side note: I need a good book about cheese- any recommendations?)
7) Planting my vegetable garden- I planted peppers, heirloom tomatoes, squash and cucumbers.
8) Cleaning my patio, finally putting my outdoor rug down and setting out the furniture.
9) Cleaning my house- mopping, vacuuming, dusting and bathroom scrubbing.
10) Walking the pups.
11) Sitting outside with a glass of wine and being happy that I've had a productive weekend.
Obviously, the last one is where I am now. I'm smelling both the scent of fresh-cut grass coupled with Pine Sol. It's a good smell. I find that some weekends are best for relaxing but others, like this one, are best spent getting things done. I have to say, I like being productive. It's a wonderful feeling.
Even though it's back to work tomorrow, I can live with that because even though the weekend is waning away, it's waning away as I continue to sit outside, with my laptop, a glass of wine and a dachshund on my lap. It's another one of those moments that's as close to perfect as life gets.
And you just can't beat that, even when a Monday is looming.
Happy Monday!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Muggy Musings
Today is the first really hot day we’ve had in a very long time. Unfortunately, the heat is of the humid kind which means that the minute you walk outside, you feel as though you’re in a sauna.
I’m not a fan of humidity. Yesterday was a lovely spring day where it was warm but breezy and there was very little humidity to be found. Today, we’re in danger of storms so the humidity is piling up and making everything feel a little ominous.
It does feel stormy out there. I hope we get a giant storm, even though it means rain. I love to listen to them rage at night. Of course, the dogs don’t necessarily agree. Sookie will calmly snuggle up closer to me and hide under the covers whereas Rory will jerk awake, sit bolt upright at the first crash of thunder and then proceed to also get under the covers, usually sitting on Sookie in her rush to hide and ending up on top of my chest.
It’s quite hard to sleep like that though it is rather endearing. I’ve noticed that the dogs don’t seem to consider me much when it comes to sharing the bed. They definitely like to cuddle up to me but it’s usually in whatever position they find comfortable and it doesn’t matter if I find it comfortable. Often, I wake up to find that I have two dogs laying sprawled horizontally across the bed and I’m creeping closer and closer to the edge of the mattress.
Sometimes, one of the girls will push the other off the bed. We’ve had a couple of incidents in the night where Sookie has knocked Rory off or vice versa. I usually scoop the surprised pup back up on the bed where she sits in an embarrassed, indignant hunch until I lie back down . At this point, the offended dog will turn her back on me and move far away from me and the other pup. Of course, by morning, she’s back and curled up close.
Still, even with the occasional nocturnal Shuffling O’ the Dogs, I still am thankful that my pups are old enough to sleep through the night. My sister got a new puppy- it’s a peculiar looking thing with very long legs and a tiny body. It’s only nine weeks old which is the age at which I got Sookie and Rory. She’s going through crate training and getting up regularly to let her outside.
I’m glad those days are over for me. Many a night was I awoken by a frantic puppy that was licking me to wake me up because she REALLY needed to go outside. This was fine some times. They’d go out, do their business and we’d shuffle back to bed. On rainy nights, it wasn’t fun. For one thing, they didn’t like to go out in the rain so I’d have to go out to encourage them to go and give them a reward if they did and, secondly, we’d all go back to bed wet and soggy.
I do miss the early days of puppyhood. Like many things you see every day, I don’t realize how much the dogs have grown until I look back at puppy pictures. To me, they look the same. Then I look at photos and I see the little five pound babies who are now 14 lb adults.
They still act like puppies though. Last night, I watched them torment Dog Whisperer’s beasts who were driving me a little potty as I sat outside and tried to blog. My girls decided that since the beasts were already barking, they’d at least give them a reason to bark. Thus, Sookie proceeded to tear along the edge of the fence, get the beasts excited to the point where they started fighting and then she’d calmly break away and sit with Rory and watch.
Part of me was highly entertained and satisfied. Part of me felt a little bad that my dogs were just contributing to the normal racket that the stupid dogs provide. I’ve got to the point if I’m just outside sitting, I can ignore them. However, if I’m doing something like, say, shearing the long grass down by the fence and Dog Whisperer lets the dogs out, it annoys me because the dogs throw themselves right at the fence where I’m standing and growl at me. Then they bark. And bark. And bark. And since Dog Whisperer refuses to acknowledge the noise, I end up giving up.
I’ve mentioned it to Wife of Dog Whisperer who muttered something about bark collars and negative reinforcement but, so far, there’s no sign of the collar and the negative reinforcement seems to consist of a weak, “Fred, No!” from the back door. Occasionally Wife of Dog Whisperer will be more proactive but it’s simply not consistent enough for the dogs to grasp that it’s NEVER ok to act like a homicidal, maniacal barking fiend. Unfortunately, as I learned with Sookie and Rory, you have to keep doing something in order for the dogs to learn.
Still, for all their dog issues, at least my neighbours are nice. They loan broken lawnmowers and Wife of Dog Whisperer is nice to chat to when we both have time. Son of Dog Whisperer is a nice little boy even if he is a little…odd. He’s stopped staring at me so much and now talks to me. He often accidentally hits his ball in my garden but I figure my retrieval and return of the ball is penance for all the times my friends and I would do the same thing to our neighbours when we were kids.
Besides, walking around the neighbourhood with the girls in the evenings, I see that there are lots of houses with lots of yappy dogs so it’s not just me. Granted, I REALLY wish that strange dogs that aren’t on a leash would stop chasing us and making us flee but, well, it makes me more alert even if it is a little terrifying. It’s happened three times now and I really don’t like it. I feel like an idiot when I run away but when you have a full-sized German shepherd lunging at two terrified dachshunds with no weapon or defense, all you can do is run.
Although I think I am going to start carrying my little squirt bottle again. Just to be safe.
Ah well, at least life in my neighbourhood is never dull, even on hot and muggy days!
Happy Wednesday.
I’m not a fan of humidity. Yesterday was a lovely spring day where it was warm but breezy and there was very little humidity to be found. Today, we’re in danger of storms so the humidity is piling up and making everything feel a little ominous.
It does feel stormy out there. I hope we get a giant storm, even though it means rain. I love to listen to them rage at night. Of course, the dogs don’t necessarily agree. Sookie will calmly snuggle up closer to me and hide under the covers whereas Rory will jerk awake, sit bolt upright at the first crash of thunder and then proceed to also get under the covers, usually sitting on Sookie in her rush to hide and ending up on top of my chest.
It’s quite hard to sleep like that though it is rather endearing. I’ve noticed that the dogs don’t seem to consider me much when it comes to sharing the bed. They definitely like to cuddle up to me but it’s usually in whatever position they find comfortable and it doesn’t matter if I find it comfortable. Often, I wake up to find that I have two dogs laying sprawled horizontally across the bed and I’m creeping closer and closer to the edge of the mattress.
Sometimes, one of the girls will push the other off the bed. We’ve had a couple of incidents in the night where Sookie has knocked Rory off or vice versa. I usually scoop the surprised pup back up on the bed where she sits in an embarrassed, indignant hunch until I lie back down . At this point, the offended dog will turn her back on me and move far away from me and the other pup. Of course, by morning, she’s back and curled up close.
Still, even with the occasional nocturnal Shuffling O’ the Dogs, I still am thankful that my pups are old enough to sleep through the night. My sister got a new puppy- it’s a peculiar looking thing with very long legs and a tiny body. It’s only nine weeks old which is the age at which I got Sookie and Rory. She’s going through crate training and getting up regularly to let her outside.
I’m glad those days are over for me. Many a night was I awoken by a frantic puppy that was licking me to wake me up because she REALLY needed to go outside. This was fine some times. They’d go out, do their business and we’d shuffle back to bed. On rainy nights, it wasn’t fun. For one thing, they didn’t like to go out in the rain so I’d have to go out to encourage them to go and give them a reward if they did and, secondly, we’d all go back to bed wet and soggy.
I do miss the early days of puppyhood. Like many things you see every day, I don’t realize how much the dogs have grown until I look back at puppy pictures. To me, they look the same. Then I look at photos and I see the little five pound babies who are now 14 lb adults.
They still act like puppies though. Last night, I watched them torment Dog Whisperer’s beasts who were driving me a little potty as I sat outside and tried to blog. My girls decided that since the beasts were already barking, they’d at least give them a reason to bark. Thus, Sookie proceeded to tear along the edge of the fence, get the beasts excited to the point where they started fighting and then she’d calmly break away and sit with Rory and watch.
Part of me was highly entertained and satisfied. Part of me felt a little bad that my dogs were just contributing to the normal racket that the stupid dogs provide. I’ve got to the point if I’m just outside sitting, I can ignore them. However, if I’m doing something like, say, shearing the long grass down by the fence and Dog Whisperer lets the dogs out, it annoys me because the dogs throw themselves right at the fence where I’m standing and growl at me. Then they bark. And bark. And bark. And since Dog Whisperer refuses to acknowledge the noise, I end up giving up.
I’ve mentioned it to Wife of Dog Whisperer who muttered something about bark collars and negative reinforcement but, so far, there’s no sign of the collar and the negative reinforcement seems to consist of a weak, “Fred, No!” from the back door. Occasionally Wife of Dog Whisperer will be more proactive but it’s simply not consistent enough for the dogs to grasp that it’s NEVER ok to act like a homicidal, maniacal barking fiend. Unfortunately, as I learned with Sookie and Rory, you have to keep doing something in order for the dogs to learn.
Still, for all their dog issues, at least my neighbours are nice. They loan broken lawnmowers and Wife of Dog Whisperer is nice to chat to when we both have time. Son of Dog Whisperer is a nice little boy even if he is a little…odd. He’s stopped staring at me so much and now talks to me. He often accidentally hits his ball in my garden but I figure my retrieval and return of the ball is penance for all the times my friends and I would do the same thing to our neighbours when we were kids.
Besides, walking around the neighbourhood with the girls in the evenings, I see that there are lots of houses with lots of yappy dogs so it’s not just me. Granted, I REALLY wish that strange dogs that aren’t on a leash would stop chasing us and making us flee but, well, it makes me more alert even if it is a little terrifying. It’s happened three times now and I really don’t like it. I feel like an idiot when I run away but when you have a full-sized German shepherd lunging at two terrified dachshunds with no weapon or defense, all you can do is run.
Although I think I am going to start carrying my little squirt bottle again. Just to be safe.
Ah well, at least life in my neighbourhood is never dull, even on hot and muggy days!
Happy Wednesday.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Furry Frustrations
It’s amazing how much you can love your dogs a ridiculous amount and yet still feel the urge to strangle them.
I imagine that parents often feel the same way towards their children. I am aware that my furry little beasts aren’t quite on the level of responsibility that having a child might be but it’s the closest I’ve ever come.
Being a pet parents is still new to me. Sure, I’ve had my dogs over a year now but as with any living creature, each day is a whole new learning experience.
Take, for example, the simple but amazingly complicated puzzle that is food. My dogs don’t to eat dog food at home. I’ve tried different brands but most of the time, they eat begrudgingly and clearly don’t like what they’re being offered. What’s annoying is that I gave one of the bags of food my girls wouldn’t touch to my parents because their dogs DO eat the brand.
Imagine my frustration when my girls went straight to the food bowl at my parents’ house and started chowing down on the very food they turned their nose up at home.
In my attempts to get them to eat on a regular schedule and eat healthy but tasty food, I’ve resorted to buying canned food. I’m not a fan of canned food. It makes their, uh, poop smell bad and, also, it’s just not that appealing. However, there are some good, holistic brands out there. We’ve tried most of them. Rory, for example, loves chicken, blueberries, sweet potato dog treats and peas. So, I found the perfect can of food- it was chicken with blueberries, sweet potato and peas.
Would she eat it? No. Of course not. Why would she? It was DOG food. My dogs don’t like dog food unless it’s not me providing it to them.
Sookie is a little less fussy and deigned to politely put some in her mouth but she glared at me the whole time she was chewing and when she finally swallowed, her stare said, “seriously? You really expect me to eat more of that?”
I imagine this was not altogether different from the way my mother would feel when she’d put a plate of dinner in front of me and I’d complain, pick at it but not eat very much because I ‘didn’t like it.’ Then, I’d go to my granny’s, have a very similar plate of food put in front of me and I’d devour the whole thing AND ask for more.
Sorry, mum. I know I can only relate on a canine level but…I’m sorry for being so picky as a child.
I have discovered that if I leave the food down long enough, they will eat it out of hunger but I do wish they had a little more enthusiasm. We did find one food that they both loved. It was another holistic brand that was for ‘high energy’ dogs. They loved it and licked the plate clean afterwards. So, excited, I went to Petsmart to buy more.
Guess what? The bloody manufacturer had discontinued that particular line of foods. Needless to say, when the pet store employee told me that, he tried to recommend other, similar brands. My girls didn’t like any of them. We’re still trying new flavours and brands. The nice thing about dog food is there are a lot of varieties to try. I just avoid ones with bad things like corn, corn products and animal by-products because, well, that just sounds bad.
In addition to our food battles, my dogs also cannot be trusted to be left alone. Last night, for example, they were happily playing outside, chasing each other and staring into the fabled sewer grate. So, silly me, I thought it might be ok to take a shower.
I’m take fairly fast showers. I didn’t think it would be a problem for the 12 minutes it takes me to disrobe, shower and get dressed again.
So, imagine my exasperation and alarm when I’m just rinsing my hair and I hear Sookie’s ‘panic’ bark.
I’ve learned to recognize this ‘panic’ bark. I’ve experienced it more than several times when Rory has pulled her Houdini act and found a way out of the back yard and is running around near the street while Sookie barks with alarm. I’ve also experienced it when Rory finds the most miniscule hole at my parents’ house and runs off to explore the great wide beyond of the soybean field next door while Sookie barks with alarm.
Thus, I can distinguish the difference between Sookie’s, “SQUIRREL! MUST EAT SQUIRREL” bark, her “you’re annoying the crap out of me, Rory,” bark, her “I’m cute so come and get me bark,” and her “PANIC! RORY’S DOING SOMETHING BAD! PANIC! PANIC!” bark.
Rory has her own series of barks too, primarily distinguished by her “I’m bored, play with me,” bark, the “why are you petting her and not me,” yip and the, “Sookie, dude, I’m outside, why aren’t you,” bark.
However, it’s Sookie’s Panic bark I’ve come to dread. When I heard it last night in the shower, my heart sunk. I immediately washed all the soap off, turned off the water, grabbed a towel and rushed to the window to see what was happening. Sookie was waiting for me with an expression I recognized on her face: Rory was Up to No Good.
Rory is often Up to No Good. It usually involves paddling in my parent’s fish pond, discovering holes in fences, digging in inappropriate places, getting covered with mud by rolling in it or doing other things she shouldn’t be doing. Sookie can be a little naughty but Rory is usually the one who is Up to No Good.
Last night was no exception. Sookie’s worried expression and Panic bark were duly merited: Rory was running around in the Dog Whisperer’s yard.
I grabbed the nearest clothes which didn’t necessarily match, threw them on, grabbed a coat and put on my wellington boots. Needless to say, I probably looked a little like a bag lady or an eccentric English woman who wanders around saying “Would you like a cup of tea dearie?” while wearing a pot of daisies on her head.
I didn’t have a pot of daisies on my head, in case you were wondering.
When I went outside, Rory wagged her tail enthusiastically. Sookie Panic barked again. In my bag-lady get up with soaking wet hair, I realized that to retrieve Rory, I would have to go all the way through the house and out the front door because I had chains and padlocks on the gates due to Rory’s last Up to No Good escape attempt.
Dog Whisperer and his family were not home. I thusly claimed Rory by cracking open his gate, catching her before she could slide by and bringing her inside. Naturally, she got told off. She knew she’d been Up to No Good because for the rest of the evening, she looked at me with flattened ears and big, sorrowful eyes.
It’s hard to stay angry at such a pathetic creature but I was quite furious. I had to spend a good 20 minutes finding creative but foolproof ways to make the fence secure because she’d found a vulnerability where the chain link didn’t quite meet the ground and she’d burrowed under it. I’ve since ordered tent stakes to make sure the fence can’t be lifted up. Hopefully, when they’re installed, I’ll feel a little more relaxed. For now, I’m going to be paranoid every time I let the dogs outside and I can’t see them immediately from the window. They will not be allowed unsupervised outside for long periods of time and I will not leave them out when I take a shower.
The sad part is that since they’re dogs, not children, they won’t completely understand their punishment. I think Rory is smart enough to have deduced that Playing in Dog Whisperer’s Yard=Mummy is very angry but I don’t know if it’s enough to stop future escape attempts. I do know that as soon as I see Rory is not in the yard, my Code Red Alert button goes off in my brain and I start to panic that something bad will happen. My anger with them is as much from fear as from frustration. It shows how much the silly little creatures mean to me, I suppose. It’s just not good for the stress level.
Being a parent is hard. Even when your ‘kids’ have fur and four legs. Kids or dogs, they can still make you so angry you want to throttle them.
Even when you’re hugging them to you in relief that they’re safe.
Happy Thursday!
I imagine that parents often feel the same way towards their children. I am aware that my furry little beasts aren’t quite on the level of responsibility that having a child might be but it’s the closest I’ve ever come.
Being a pet parents is still new to me. Sure, I’ve had my dogs over a year now but as with any living creature, each day is a whole new learning experience.
Take, for example, the simple but amazingly complicated puzzle that is food. My dogs don’t to eat dog food at home. I’ve tried different brands but most of the time, they eat begrudgingly and clearly don’t like what they’re being offered. What’s annoying is that I gave one of the bags of food my girls wouldn’t touch to my parents because their dogs DO eat the brand.
Imagine my frustration when my girls went straight to the food bowl at my parents’ house and started chowing down on the very food they turned their nose up at home.
In my attempts to get them to eat on a regular schedule and eat healthy but tasty food, I’ve resorted to buying canned food. I’m not a fan of canned food. It makes their, uh, poop smell bad and, also, it’s just not that appealing. However, there are some good, holistic brands out there. We’ve tried most of them. Rory, for example, loves chicken, blueberries, sweet potato dog treats and peas. So, I found the perfect can of food- it was chicken with blueberries, sweet potato and peas.
Would she eat it? No. Of course not. Why would she? It was DOG food. My dogs don’t like dog food unless it’s not me providing it to them.
Sookie is a little less fussy and deigned to politely put some in her mouth but she glared at me the whole time she was chewing and when she finally swallowed, her stare said, “seriously? You really expect me to eat more of that?”
I imagine this was not altogether different from the way my mother would feel when she’d put a plate of dinner in front of me and I’d complain, pick at it but not eat very much because I ‘didn’t like it.’ Then, I’d go to my granny’s, have a very similar plate of food put in front of me and I’d devour the whole thing AND ask for more.
Sorry, mum. I know I can only relate on a canine level but…I’m sorry for being so picky as a child.
I have discovered that if I leave the food down long enough, they will eat it out of hunger but I do wish they had a little more enthusiasm. We did find one food that they both loved. It was another holistic brand that was for ‘high energy’ dogs. They loved it and licked the plate clean afterwards. So, excited, I went to Petsmart to buy more.
Guess what? The bloody manufacturer had discontinued that particular line of foods. Needless to say, when the pet store employee told me that, he tried to recommend other, similar brands. My girls didn’t like any of them. We’re still trying new flavours and brands. The nice thing about dog food is there are a lot of varieties to try. I just avoid ones with bad things like corn, corn products and animal by-products because, well, that just sounds bad.
In addition to our food battles, my dogs also cannot be trusted to be left alone. Last night, for example, they were happily playing outside, chasing each other and staring into the fabled sewer grate. So, silly me, I thought it might be ok to take a shower.
I’m take fairly fast showers. I didn’t think it would be a problem for the 12 minutes it takes me to disrobe, shower and get dressed again.
So, imagine my exasperation and alarm when I’m just rinsing my hair and I hear Sookie’s ‘panic’ bark.
I’ve learned to recognize this ‘panic’ bark. I’ve experienced it more than several times when Rory has pulled her Houdini act and found a way out of the back yard and is running around near the street while Sookie barks with alarm. I’ve also experienced it when Rory finds the most miniscule hole at my parents’ house and runs off to explore the great wide beyond of the soybean field next door while Sookie barks with alarm.
Thus, I can distinguish the difference between Sookie’s, “SQUIRREL! MUST EAT SQUIRREL” bark, her “you’re annoying the crap out of me, Rory,” bark, her “I’m cute so come and get me bark,” and her “PANIC! RORY’S DOING SOMETHING BAD! PANIC! PANIC!” bark.
Rory has her own series of barks too, primarily distinguished by her “I’m bored, play with me,” bark, the “why are you petting her and not me,” yip and the, “Sookie, dude, I’m outside, why aren’t you,” bark.
However, it’s Sookie’s Panic bark I’ve come to dread. When I heard it last night in the shower, my heart sunk. I immediately washed all the soap off, turned off the water, grabbed a towel and rushed to the window to see what was happening. Sookie was waiting for me with an expression I recognized on her face: Rory was Up to No Good.
Rory is often Up to No Good. It usually involves paddling in my parent’s fish pond, discovering holes in fences, digging in inappropriate places, getting covered with mud by rolling in it or doing other things she shouldn’t be doing. Sookie can be a little naughty but Rory is usually the one who is Up to No Good.
Last night was no exception. Sookie’s worried expression and Panic bark were duly merited: Rory was running around in the Dog Whisperer’s yard.
I grabbed the nearest clothes which didn’t necessarily match, threw them on, grabbed a coat and put on my wellington boots. Needless to say, I probably looked a little like a bag lady or an eccentric English woman who wanders around saying “Would you like a cup of tea dearie?” while wearing a pot of daisies on her head.
I didn’t have a pot of daisies on my head, in case you were wondering.
When I went outside, Rory wagged her tail enthusiastically. Sookie Panic barked again. In my bag-lady get up with soaking wet hair, I realized that to retrieve Rory, I would have to go all the way through the house and out the front door because I had chains and padlocks on the gates due to Rory’s last Up to No Good escape attempt.
Dog Whisperer and his family were not home. I thusly claimed Rory by cracking open his gate, catching her before she could slide by and bringing her inside. Naturally, she got told off. She knew she’d been Up to No Good because for the rest of the evening, she looked at me with flattened ears and big, sorrowful eyes.
It’s hard to stay angry at such a pathetic creature but I was quite furious. I had to spend a good 20 minutes finding creative but foolproof ways to make the fence secure because she’d found a vulnerability where the chain link didn’t quite meet the ground and she’d burrowed under it. I’ve since ordered tent stakes to make sure the fence can’t be lifted up. Hopefully, when they’re installed, I’ll feel a little more relaxed. For now, I’m going to be paranoid every time I let the dogs outside and I can’t see them immediately from the window. They will not be allowed unsupervised outside for long periods of time and I will not leave them out when I take a shower.
The sad part is that since they’re dogs, not children, they won’t completely understand their punishment. I think Rory is smart enough to have deduced that Playing in Dog Whisperer’s Yard=Mummy is very angry but I don’t know if it’s enough to stop future escape attempts. I do know that as soon as I see Rory is not in the yard, my Code Red Alert button goes off in my brain and I start to panic that something bad will happen. My anger with them is as much from fear as from frustration. It shows how much the silly little creatures mean to me, I suppose. It’s just not good for the stress level.
Being a parent is hard. Even when your ‘kids’ have fur and four legs. Kids or dogs, they can still make you so angry you want to throttle them.
Even when you’re hugging them to you in relief that they’re safe.
Happy Thursday!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The Comfort of Canine Companionship
Today has been a very stormy day. The skies have been blue one moment and then an ominous grey the next. We’ve already had hail and as I look outside, it seems as though the skies are preparing for more.
When it gets grey and stormy, it’s hard to believe that just a few hours before I was sitting outside with the pups at lunchtime, throwing little rocks down the sewer drain so Rory could hear them splash. She’s a smart dog. She’s got to the point where she now tries to take the stick or rock from my hand and drop it herself. I’m still not sure what her fascination is but it’s very cute.
Sometimes, I think I might find my dogs too cute. I feel like I’m one of those mothers who when they’re asked politely about their kids, whips out her phone and shows pictures. I don’t always do that with the girls but I have done it before. It’s just that they are my furry babies and we have a nice little family unit going on together. We have our routines. If we veer from our routine, the pups sulk. Both dogs have a very specific way of sulking. Rory will go in her crate and bury under a blanket. Our issue can only be resolved by my laying on my stomach, putting my head in the crate and making a fuss of her. Yes, this may seem a little silly. Yes, I stick my head in the crate while laying on my stomach more often than I’d like to admit. It does the trick and usually, Rory forgives me.
Sookie’s method of sulking is to cast me a hurt look and then sit with her back to me. She refuses to look at me and when I pet her, she pulls away. She likes to drag it out. Whatever crime I’ve commited against her to cause her to sulk is heinous enough that it takes a while for her to forgive and forget. Unlike Rory who can usually be appeased by a hug and a treat, Sookie will not surrender to the power of a treat at all. She will forgive me when she’s ready.
I have rather sensitive dogs. I find it a constant juggling act to make sure that I don’t spend too much time fussing over one of the girls and not the other. If I do, this will inevitably lead to sulking.
In the evenings, Sookie and I are tend to be quite mellow. By 9 p.m., we can both usually be found sitting on the couch either watching TV or reading. Well, I watch TV or read. Sookie is smart but she hasn’t developed the ability to read yet. That would be very cool, however.
Anyway, while we’re sitting calmly, Rory is not ready to relax. She’s still in full “play” mode. She has taken to lying on the floor, staring at me with a mix of curiousity and defiance as if to say, “What on EARTH are you doing? It’s not time to sit! You must PLAY! WITH ME!”
If I don’t pay any attention to this look, the barking begins. It starts with one little yip. Then if Sookie and I both continue to ignore her, Rory ramps up her efforts and she becomes far more persistent. Usually, I end up playing with her for a few minutes and Sookie will join me. My prime directive is actually to get the girls to play together so I can go back to my book. Sometimes this works and sometimes it doesn’t.
I probably shouldn’t give in to a dog so easily but Rory is hard to ignore. She’s a very good communicator and I can always tell what she wants. I’m not sure if that’s good or not, honestly. I love that she’s so intelligent although at times, I have to be careful. For example, if I’m not planning on taking a walk with them because it’s raining and it’s coming close to the time we normally go, I can’t say the word “Walk.” If I’m talking to someone on the phone, I have to spell the word out. Fortunately, Rory has not yet learned to spell.
It’s not that Sookie isn’t bright. She is. She’s got her own methods of being annoyingly intelligent. For example, if I’m bathing Rory and her turn is next, she’s found a new hiding place of getting up on the bed and hiding under the covers. The first time she did this, it took me a while to find her. She’s also a very good alert system and she warns me of any intruders.
It’s interesting. I probably spend far too much time with my dogs. I know them so well. They also know me. Sookie is very good at knowing when I’m feeling blue and she becomes my ‘teddy bear dog’ and likes to cuddle with me on my lap. There’s something to be said for canine companionship.
I admit, I probably talk/blog about my dogs too much. I used to get annoyed at people who were parents who did nothing but talk about their kids. Yet I can see how it’s easy to do.
Life is much more fun when you get to share it with someone or some dog. Even the small things make it entertaining.
Even when it’s something as simple as throwing rocks down a sewer drain to hear them splash.
Happy Thursday (and thanks for reading about my dogs!)
When it gets grey and stormy, it’s hard to believe that just a few hours before I was sitting outside with the pups at lunchtime, throwing little rocks down the sewer drain so Rory could hear them splash. She’s a smart dog. She’s got to the point where she now tries to take the stick or rock from my hand and drop it herself. I’m still not sure what her fascination is but it’s very cute.
Sometimes, I think I might find my dogs too cute. I feel like I’m one of those mothers who when they’re asked politely about their kids, whips out her phone and shows pictures. I don’t always do that with the girls but I have done it before. It’s just that they are my furry babies and we have a nice little family unit going on together. We have our routines. If we veer from our routine, the pups sulk. Both dogs have a very specific way of sulking. Rory will go in her crate and bury under a blanket. Our issue can only be resolved by my laying on my stomach, putting my head in the crate and making a fuss of her. Yes, this may seem a little silly. Yes, I stick my head in the crate while laying on my stomach more often than I’d like to admit. It does the trick and usually, Rory forgives me.
Sookie’s method of sulking is to cast me a hurt look and then sit with her back to me. She refuses to look at me and when I pet her, she pulls away. She likes to drag it out. Whatever crime I’ve commited against her to cause her to sulk is heinous enough that it takes a while for her to forgive and forget. Unlike Rory who can usually be appeased by a hug and a treat, Sookie will not surrender to the power of a treat at all. She will forgive me when she’s ready.
I have rather sensitive dogs. I find it a constant juggling act to make sure that I don’t spend too much time fussing over one of the girls and not the other. If I do, this will inevitably lead to sulking.
In the evenings, Sookie and I are tend to be quite mellow. By 9 p.m., we can both usually be found sitting on the couch either watching TV or reading. Well, I watch TV or read. Sookie is smart but she hasn’t developed the ability to read yet. That would be very cool, however.
Anyway, while we’re sitting calmly, Rory is not ready to relax. She’s still in full “play” mode. She has taken to lying on the floor, staring at me with a mix of curiousity and defiance as if to say, “What on EARTH are you doing? It’s not time to sit! You must PLAY! WITH ME!”
If I don’t pay any attention to this look, the barking begins. It starts with one little yip. Then if Sookie and I both continue to ignore her, Rory ramps up her efforts and she becomes far more persistent. Usually, I end up playing with her for a few minutes and Sookie will join me. My prime directive is actually to get the girls to play together so I can go back to my book. Sometimes this works and sometimes it doesn’t.
I probably shouldn’t give in to a dog so easily but Rory is hard to ignore. She’s a very good communicator and I can always tell what she wants. I’m not sure if that’s good or not, honestly. I love that she’s so intelligent although at times, I have to be careful. For example, if I’m not planning on taking a walk with them because it’s raining and it’s coming close to the time we normally go, I can’t say the word “Walk.” If I’m talking to someone on the phone, I have to spell the word out. Fortunately, Rory has not yet learned to spell.
It’s not that Sookie isn’t bright. She is. She’s got her own methods of being annoyingly intelligent. For example, if I’m bathing Rory and her turn is next, she’s found a new hiding place of getting up on the bed and hiding under the covers. The first time she did this, it took me a while to find her. She’s also a very good alert system and she warns me of any intruders.
It’s interesting. I probably spend far too much time with my dogs. I know them so well. They also know me. Sookie is very good at knowing when I’m feeling blue and she becomes my ‘teddy bear dog’ and likes to cuddle with me on my lap. There’s something to be said for canine companionship.
I admit, I probably talk/blog about my dogs too much. I used to get annoyed at people who were parents who did nothing but talk about their kids. Yet I can see how it’s easy to do.
Life is much more fun when you get to share it with someone or some dog. Even the small things make it entertaining.
Even when it’s something as simple as throwing rocks down a sewer drain to hear them splash.
Happy Thursday (and thanks for reading about my dogs!)
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Impossibility of Explaining Daylight Saving Time to a Couple of Puppies...
It was feeling a lot less like Christmas today.
Even though we woke up to a lightly frosted world, the day warmed up so much that a jacket wasn't necessary. I'd say this was odd given that it was pouring down with snow on Friday night but this is the Midwest where you can have an 80 degree day in December and a 30 degree day in May.
It was nice that it was so warm outside. It made walking the puppies more pleasant. Lately, it's been so chilly, I've started to think gloves might be necessary. The puppies don't seem to mind. I haven't put their winter coats on them yet but when the temperature drops again, it'll be time.
They won't like it but there's a lot of things they don't like. There are things they don't understand...like daylight saving's time.
It's very hard to try to explain to little furry creatures- albeit cute little furry creatures- about daylight savings time. When their basic understanding of the human vocabulary can be boiled down into several meaningful words ("Rory", "Sookie," "Biscuit?", "Outside?" and "Walk"), explaining the concept of why it's dark at 6:15 p.m. and why it's now light when we get up is sort of impossible.
They don't care. They are waking up an hour earlier than the clocks read. Yes, we as humans try to adapt to the fact that 6 a.m. was 7 a.m. when, a few days ago, 7 a.m. was 7 a.m.
When I got home this evening at 5:30 p.m., it was already getting dark. In their crates, they stared at me accusingly as if to say, "MOTHER! It's late! Where HAVE you BEEN?"
They don't understand that it's not late. It is, in fact, the usual time that I get home from work.
When we walked this evening, it was by twilight. There were no sparkly vampires, thankfully, only a weirdly hovering Larry who was standing by his car as if waiting for something but I couldn't figure out what. For some reason, in the half-light of day/night, he couldn't seem to figure out who I was even though it wasn't that dark and there's no one else in the neighbourhood that I know of who has two twin black and tan dachshunds and takes the route we do. I left Larry to his own devices and decided that making conversation was probably not the best idea.
The puppies seemed to enjoy their twilit walk though. We saw a couple of bunnies which, of course, sent them into jubilant attempts at trying to catch the bunnies. We saw a couple of squirrels. Rory dived in a large pile of leaves. She also investigated a pile of tree branches that had been trimmed and left for pickup and managed to get tangled up in them and toppled the pile. We attempted to tidy it up but we walked away quickly.
Now, even though it's not very late, the puppies seem confused as though they don't understand why I'm not nested on the couch ready to watch TV so they can cuddle with me and warm their chilly noses. A week ago, I would have been ready but this week, it's an hour earlier.
I've tried to explain it to them. The only problem is that honestly, I have a bit of trouble explaining it to myself. I know it was a method of saving energy back in wartimes or whatever but, really, do we need it to be getting dark as we're coming out of work? Couldn't we, you know, just let 5 p.m. be 5 p.m. instead of 4 p.m.?
It's all rather befuddling, I find. No wonder the puppies are confused.
Ah well, they're get the hang of it soon enough.
I hope.
Happy Tuesday!
Even though we woke up to a lightly frosted world, the day warmed up so much that a jacket wasn't necessary. I'd say this was odd given that it was pouring down with snow on Friday night but this is the Midwest where you can have an 80 degree day in December and a 30 degree day in May.
It was nice that it was so warm outside. It made walking the puppies more pleasant. Lately, it's been so chilly, I've started to think gloves might be necessary. The puppies don't seem to mind. I haven't put their winter coats on them yet but when the temperature drops again, it'll be time.
They won't like it but there's a lot of things they don't like. There are things they don't understand...like daylight saving's time.
It's very hard to try to explain to little furry creatures- albeit cute little furry creatures- about daylight savings time. When their basic understanding of the human vocabulary can be boiled down into several meaningful words ("Rory", "Sookie," "Biscuit?", "Outside?" and "Walk"), explaining the concept of why it's dark at 6:15 p.m. and why it's now light when we get up is sort of impossible.
They don't care. They are waking up an hour earlier than the clocks read. Yes, we as humans try to adapt to the fact that 6 a.m. was 7 a.m. when, a few days ago, 7 a.m. was 7 a.m.
When I got home this evening at 5:30 p.m., it was already getting dark. In their crates, they stared at me accusingly as if to say, "MOTHER! It's late! Where HAVE you BEEN?"
They don't understand that it's not late. It is, in fact, the usual time that I get home from work.
When we walked this evening, it was by twilight. There were no sparkly vampires, thankfully, only a weirdly hovering Larry who was standing by his car as if waiting for something but I couldn't figure out what. For some reason, in the half-light of day/night, he couldn't seem to figure out who I was even though it wasn't that dark and there's no one else in the neighbourhood that I know of who has two twin black and tan dachshunds and takes the route we do. I left Larry to his own devices and decided that making conversation was probably not the best idea.
The puppies seemed to enjoy their twilit walk though. We saw a couple of bunnies which, of course, sent them into jubilant attempts at trying to catch the bunnies. We saw a couple of squirrels. Rory dived in a large pile of leaves. She also investigated a pile of tree branches that had been trimmed and left for pickup and managed to get tangled up in them and toppled the pile. We attempted to tidy it up but we walked away quickly.
Now, even though it's not very late, the puppies seem confused as though they don't understand why I'm not nested on the couch ready to watch TV so they can cuddle with me and warm their chilly noses. A week ago, I would have been ready but this week, it's an hour earlier.
I've tried to explain it to them. The only problem is that honestly, I have a bit of trouble explaining it to myself. I know it was a method of saving energy back in wartimes or whatever but, really, do we need it to be getting dark as we're coming out of work? Couldn't we, you know, just let 5 p.m. be 5 p.m. instead of 4 p.m.?
It's all rather befuddling, I find. No wonder the puppies are confused.
Ah well, they're get the hang of it soon enough.
I hope.
Happy Tuesday!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Early Snow...the Joy and the Guilt....
I made a mistake last night.I made the mistake of talking to the puppies about what would happen when it snowed.
To top it off, I wore one of my snowflake necklaces today.
This may not seem like a big deal to most people but when you're a Monkeypants in possession of a dire love of snow, it's a dangerous thing indeed.
It's only November. As much as I love snow and the comfortable cosiness of the things associated with it, even I know that it's too early. Only yesterday I was mocking the giant inflatable Santa Claus down the street from my house.
Now, it seems, even though not-so-deep-inside, I'm eager for snow, we could have snow by the weekend.
For me, this is quite a delightful idea. After all, I'm the type of Monkeypants that adores the white stuff. I don't care if it's early. I only care that it's the real thing and not some slimy sleet that only wishes it were snow.
However, while I love the wintery precipitation, I'm not deluded enough to expect everyone to agree with me.
Thus, since it's only November 3rd tomorrow, it seems that there is snow in our forecast. By Friday, we should expect raw, cold temperatures that promise precipitation. If we get the precipitation, it's likely to be wet snow.
Naturally, being the winter-loving Monkeypants I am, this sets off certain interior cartwheels/songs of joy within me.
Yet, also being the sympathetic, empathetic Monkeypants I am, I can hear the groaning and moaning of my mother's anti-winter bones curling themselves up into a fetal position as we speak.
Personally, I can't wait. I made my puppies coats a few weeks ago as I mentioned on this blog. Thus, once we start getting temperatures that are below freezing, I still expect my little pups to don their coats and go walking in a winter wonderland with me.
Yet, the realist in me protests. Perhaps it is too early. Perhaps the beginning of November is too early for snow.
The sad thing is, I just can't tell anymore. I've lost my sense of the seasons to my sense of what I love most about the seasons. I love this transition period. I loved how Autumn suddenly slapped the hand of Summer and said "no more," as it made the leaves finally tumble from the trees and the nights to grow cold. I love how Autumn has to give way to winter with the spirit of balmy days that are interlaced with frozen nights that stunt the growth and progression of anything until spring.
I know I'll love it when Winter has it's ice-cold grip on us but Spring sneaks in and says, "look, you can be as frigid as you want but during the day, I'm taking control" and, slowly, her magic works and there are crocus, daffodil and hyacinth shoots peeking through the frozen earth.
Yet there's a long way to go until then. In the meantime, it's still Autumn with only a hint that snow looms. Nevertheless, the hint is strong enough that I'm already being blamed for the potential frozen precipitation.
My problem is that I love snow. In my former days, I had a dachshund named Sausage who would help me bring upon snow by our ritual dance. In my newer days, I have a dachshund named Sookie who can also help me do the dance but she's yet to realize the consequences of her infectious joy. In addition, my mother gave me a snowflake necklace that seemed to bring on the weather whenever i wore it.
This year, I haven't yet worn that necklace but I have another snowflake which, I confess, I wore today. It's not as fancy nor as obvious but given that snow was predicted by Frank Mazullo and Fox 19 Stormtracker weather, it seems to be quite as effective.
This year, I haven't yet worn that necklace but I have another snowflake which, I confess, I wore today. It's not as fancy nor as obvious but given that snow was predicted by Frank Mazullo and Fox 19 Stormtracker weather, it seems to be quite as effective.
I admit, the joyous part of me that enjoys frolicking in the snow, that enjoys the frozen tundra of winter is happy that this weekend could be the start of the ice-laced season.
Yet, the realistic part of me, the part that will always be tied, invisibly, to my mother who I love beyond words, knows that it IS too early. It's only the first week of November. Winter doesn't officially begin until December 21st. A few weeks ago I was complaining that Summer was being greedy by trying to infringe her heat and warmth on Autumn's territory. Now, it seems. Autumn is getting the shaft again because Winter is being slightly greedy and wanting to speed things along.
I have to admit, the idea of a wintry covered sidewalk adust with snow doesn't exactly make me unhappy yet the nature of my personality is that I care about others. I know my mother and other winter- despising humans are definitely not ready for snow.
Yet, no matter how I feel or try to feel, the fact is there's snow in the forecast for this weekend. I just want to go on the record and say that it was NOT my fault. Sure, I wore one of my pendant necklaces and I described it to my puppies but this doesn't mean it's my fault.
Of course, if I decide to wear the official necklace and do the offical, "Snow, Sookie!, Snow!" dance, that's another story.
I'll keep you posted. It won't happen for a while, mum...I promise.
I'll keep you posted. It won't happen for a while, mum...I promise.
Happy Wednesday!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Close Encounters of the Larry Kind...
We're finally having a dark and stormy night here in Cincinnati, Ohio. Last night, we had the dark part and the storm rumbled in the distance but it never arrived. Tonight it arrived in full force. At one point, I thought there was a tornado in the back garden. The wind was blowing so hard and there were so many leaves blowing down from the trees that it was a little alarming.
Naturally, the puppies were in the midst of it, frolicking amongst the cascading leaves. They aren't afraid of storms at all and quite enjoy running out to see what all the fuss is about any time there's a clap of thunder.
I like storms a lot though sometimes, when they're loud and ominous, it's nice to have the puppies to keep me company. As a child, I was terrified of storms. I would cower near my parents any time there was so much as a clap. If it was night and I was in bed when a storm arrived, I'd immediately scamper to my parents' room and climb into their bed for safety.
As I got older, I began to be less afraid of storms. This is due to a rather harsh lesson in which my dad, tired of my childish fear, made me go out and stand in a storm and see that it wouldn't hurt me. It was slightly traumatizing at the time but it did work.
My younger brother and sister took my place in being afraid of them and when it was a stormy night, they would climb into my bed and we'd cuddle together until either the storm passed or, more likely, morning because they had fallen asleep and I hadn't the heart to wake them.
Nowadays, I love to lie in bed and hear the rumble of a storm. They're cleansing and therapeutic. They come after the tension in the atmosphere has built up to an almost unmanageable level, darkening the skies with a threatening gloom and only, finally, arriving to unleash the storm on the waiting world.
Tonight's storm has brought some much needed rain. The world outside my window is finally shiny with wetness under the streetlamps. The cars are kicking up the water as they drive by. It's been far too long since we had rain like this and it's nice to look out and enjoy it.
Of course, the rain meant the puppies and I couldn't take our evening walk around the neighbourhood. That's become a regular thing. I love it, especially on the cooler nights. We still see some of our neighbours though Larry the Potential Serial Killer hasn't been around much. However, alarmingly, last night, as we walked, he pulled up beside us in his car and said, "Hey Gorgeous! Haven't seen you in a while." I was ok until I realized by the "gorgeous" part, he was talking to me and not to my puppies. For one thing, I don't really feel gorgeous when I'm walking the pups and, secondly, well, it was Larry the Potential Serial Killer. Since when has he called me gorgeous? I was polite, though I made a mental note to make sure the puppies and I continued to avoid him. He wants to 'catch up.' As he got ready to drive up, he shouted out the window, "we have to plan when we can catch up."
Oh dear. By planning a 'catch up' session, this clearly means that Larry The Potential Serial Killer means more than a casual close encounter outside his house. If you've read my blog, you'll know I mean 'close encounter' literally. Larry is, as I've said, an 'up close and personal' talker without that lovely concept of "this is my space, this is your space."
I made an even stronger mental note to avoid Larry and his 'catch up' session. I was quite relieved when he drove off. I seriously hope he didn't think I meant I wanted to get together with him. I have this horrible habit of not realizing when I've innocently said I'd do something with a male friend only to find out he thinks it's a date. Fortunately, I have no intention of getting into that confusion with Larry the Potential Serial Killer. It does, however, alarm me that there might be the rather disconcerting possibility that, uh, Larry likes me. Damn me and my friendly ways.
Ah well, I suppose it should be good for my ego. Besides, it was a brief, if unsettling encounter. The pups and I managed to make it home where Rory, in her tendency to find ways to be slightly naughty even when she's trying to be good, managed to dislodge one of my large plastic flowerpots from its place on my plant rack on my patio. The pot fell to the ground and the dried up wedge of potting soil that had previously been the bed for a rather thriving basil plant bounced out. Rory promptly claimed her prize and grabbed the flowerpot which turned out to be bigger than she was. She scurried off down the garden with it. Seeing no harm, I left her to her own devices. Better a flowerpot than a baby bunny.
Of course, later that night, she decided she wanted to bring her new favourite thing into the house and arrived in the living room, her little mouth firmly gripping the rim of the flowerpot as she triumphantly managed to bring it inside. That's no small feat for a pup when the flowerpot is bigger than she is. I was going to take it away but she seemed so enamoured with it, I decided it was fine. It wasn't making a mess and she was having such a lovely time. She ended up laying on the floor, her head and half her body in the flowerpot for most of the evening. Meanwhile, Sookie just sat there and watched. I imagine, if Sookie were a human, she would spend much of her time, observing her sister, shaking her head and saying, "That Rory!"
This evening, Rory has abandoned her flowerpot. She has, instead, discovered the towel that I use to drape over their crate. She is currently lying on the towel, having a good old chomp while Sookie lays, watching intently, just a few feet away.
Still, given how wet it is outside, playing with a towel is actually a rather smart thing to do, even if that wasn't Rory's intention. It means I can use the towel to try off the girls' feet as they scamper in from being outside, lured by the call of the storm.
I love Autumn.
Happy Thursday!
Naturally, the puppies were in the midst of it, frolicking amongst the cascading leaves. They aren't afraid of storms at all and quite enjoy running out to see what all the fuss is about any time there's a clap of thunder.
I like storms a lot though sometimes, when they're loud and ominous, it's nice to have the puppies to keep me company. As a child, I was terrified of storms. I would cower near my parents any time there was so much as a clap. If it was night and I was in bed when a storm arrived, I'd immediately scamper to my parents' room and climb into their bed for safety.
As I got older, I began to be less afraid of storms. This is due to a rather harsh lesson in which my dad, tired of my childish fear, made me go out and stand in a storm and see that it wouldn't hurt me. It was slightly traumatizing at the time but it did work.
My younger brother and sister took my place in being afraid of them and when it was a stormy night, they would climb into my bed and we'd cuddle together until either the storm passed or, more likely, morning because they had fallen asleep and I hadn't the heart to wake them.
Nowadays, I love to lie in bed and hear the rumble of a storm. They're cleansing and therapeutic. They come after the tension in the atmosphere has built up to an almost unmanageable level, darkening the skies with a threatening gloom and only, finally, arriving to unleash the storm on the waiting world.
Tonight's storm has brought some much needed rain. The world outside my window is finally shiny with wetness under the streetlamps. The cars are kicking up the water as they drive by. It's been far too long since we had rain like this and it's nice to look out and enjoy it.
Of course, the rain meant the puppies and I couldn't take our evening walk around the neighbourhood. That's become a regular thing. I love it, especially on the cooler nights. We still see some of our neighbours though Larry the Potential Serial Killer hasn't been around much. However, alarmingly, last night, as we walked, he pulled up beside us in his car and said, "Hey Gorgeous! Haven't seen you in a while." I was ok until I realized by the "gorgeous" part, he was talking to me and not to my puppies. For one thing, I don't really feel gorgeous when I'm walking the pups and, secondly, well, it was Larry the Potential Serial Killer. Since when has he called me gorgeous? I was polite, though I made a mental note to make sure the puppies and I continued to avoid him. He wants to 'catch up.' As he got ready to drive up, he shouted out the window, "we have to plan when we can catch up."
Oh dear. By planning a 'catch up' session, this clearly means that Larry The Potential Serial Killer means more than a casual close encounter outside his house. If you've read my blog, you'll know I mean 'close encounter' literally. Larry is, as I've said, an 'up close and personal' talker without that lovely concept of "this is my space, this is your space."
I made an even stronger mental note to avoid Larry and his 'catch up' session. I was quite relieved when he drove off. I seriously hope he didn't think I meant I wanted to get together with him. I have this horrible habit of not realizing when I've innocently said I'd do something with a male friend only to find out he thinks it's a date. Fortunately, I have no intention of getting into that confusion with Larry the Potential Serial Killer. It does, however, alarm me that there might be the rather disconcerting possibility that, uh, Larry likes me. Damn me and my friendly ways.
Ah well, I suppose it should be good for my ego. Besides, it was a brief, if unsettling encounter. The pups and I managed to make it home where Rory, in her tendency to find ways to be slightly naughty even when she's trying to be good, managed to dislodge one of my large plastic flowerpots from its place on my plant rack on my patio. The pot fell to the ground and the dried up wedge of potting soil that had previously been the bed for a rather thriving basil plant bounced out. Rory promptly claimed her prize and grabbed the flowerpot which turned out to be bigger than she was. She scurried off down the garden with it. Seeing no harm, I left her to her own devices. Better a flowerpot than a baby bunny.
Of course, later that night, she decided she wanted to bring her new favourite thing into the house and arrived in the living room, her little mouth firmly gripping the rim of the flowerpot as she triumphantly managed to bring it inside. That's no small feat for a pup when the flowerpot is bigger than she is. I was going to take it away but she seemed so enamoured with it, I decided it was fine. It wasn't making a mess and she was having such a lovely time. She ended up laying on the floor, her head and half her body in the flowerpot for most of the evening. Meanwhile, Sookie just sat there and watched. I imagine, if Sookie were a human, she would spend much of her time, observing her sister, shaking her head and saying, "That Rory!"
This evening, Rory has abandoned her flowerpot. She has, instead, discovered the towel that I use to drape over their crate. She is currently lying on the towel, having a good old chomp while Sookie lays, watching intently, just a few feet away.
Still, given how wet it is outside, playing with a towel is actually a rather smart thing to do, even if that wasn't Rory's intention. It means I can use the towel to try off the girls' feet as they scamper in from being outside, lured by the call of the storm.
I love Autumn.
Happy Thursday!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
StatCounter
