Thursday, April 21, 2016

They're Back and So is My Cussing Habit

For the past several years, I have made a sincere effort to reduce my swearing.  It has gone fairly well- most of the time.  Then there are times when the effects of outside forces negatively effect my peace of mind.  After that, an explosion of bad words flow like a waterfall down a sheer cliff.

The latest cussed avalanche began when after a short time strolling around the grounds, Lois sported over a dozen hanger-ons.  My initial response was to yell, "I will kill you!"  Then collecting the tools to do the job, I continued, "I will **** kill you!"

Henry too, was tick ridden.  Tweezers poised, I exclaimed, "you ***** tick bastards!  You will die a **** horrible death!"
After removal from their unwilling hosts, the ticks were dropped into a deadly alcohol bath.  "Die!  Die!  Die!  You evil ****  ****!"

Later, as the Tick Killer was showering, the swearing increased considerably.   "How dare you!  You ****!" 

Two ticks were upon my body.  Gripping them between my thumb and finger, I stepped out of the shower, dripping all over the floor.  Seizing a pair of cuticle scissors, I cut each tick in half and then in half again.

"Take that, you **** parasitical ****!"

The bathroom nightmare wasn't over, though.  Soon, a horrible discovery.  There was a tick nestled between my toes.   "Ahhrrgggh!  ****!  You are not welcome here, ***** !"  

This tick too, was cut in half and in half again.  "I will kill you all!  You, and all your **** brethren!  **** ***** *****!!"

Lois, the voice of reason, suggests that the ducks be called upon to dispatch the ticks at ground level.

If needed, wild reinforcements are also at the ready.

OK, birds.  Get out there and kill, kill, **** kill.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

There's Been a Breach

Sacks of duck feed are kept in the garage, inside a large plastic tub with a secure lid.  All winter long, the duck food has remained clean and dry and easy for the Duck Keeper to access. 

Then came Spring.

That there are mice in the garage is not news.  They've been leaving their droppings on the lid of the duck food container and lots of other places too.  For example, there are mice droppings intermingled with crumbs of soap surrounding a little plastic container holding a bar of soap.  (This soap is in the garage now.  In season, the soap sits beside a rain barrel so the Duck Keeper can wash her hands without having to go inside the house.)

The soap crumbs tell us that mice can get through plastic.  Still, they had not breached the tub holding the duck food.   That changed.  Perhaps energized by the Spring Equinox, they ramped up their efforts.

One day a hole was present in the side of the container.  Employing low tech ingenuity, the Duck Keeper stuffed a rag in the hole.

The rag held, but a second hole appeared.  The Duck Keeper stuffed an second rag in the second hole.

The Duck Keeper transferred the duck food into a metal container.  Will there be another breach?  Stay tuned.

Monday, April 4, 2016

Pop Culture Frenzy, Round 45

Welcome once again to Pop Culture Frenzy.  Just the other day,  John Kasich reignited an old outrage.  When will politicians learn not to eat pizza in public?

That's not our question. Here's our question.
What is the correct way to eat pizza?

On a plate using a
knife and fork.

Hostmaster:  isn't that a little uppity?
Uppity?  No.
  It's not a sandwich.
Maybe birds don't have a roof
of the mouth to burn.
Hostmaster:  hmmm.
Don't eat pizza.
It's bad for you.
Hostmaster:  Bryan?
It depends.  If you are on horseback and
it's cold pizza, use your hands.
If you are sitting at a table and
it is a hot deep dish pizza, use silverware.
Hostmaster:  Molly?
Just eat it.  
Hostmaster:  correct. 
For those wondering what John Kasich did with his pizza the other day, he used a fork for the first bite due to what he described as, "scalding hotness".  After that, he picked up the slice and bit off mouthfuls.

So ends another round of Pop Culture Frenzy.  Let's go for pizza.  Cyndi's buying!

Round 45
Fluffy/Molly  21
Bryan/Cyndi  18


Thursday, March 31, 2016

A Little Tail before Breakfast

The local rabbits seem to agree with Erma Bombeck, who said that the grass is always greener over the septic tank.  Even though there is lots and lots of grass outside of the fenced in area, rabbits regularly enter the yard.  There have been numerous rabbit sightings, smellings, and compelling scat evidence.  Then there was the rousing encounter of a few days ago.

It was a morning like any other, the dogs go outside in shifts to do their business.  Lois and Henry are first- the benefits of seniority.  Suddenly, things came to a head, or rather, tail.  The sound of a rabbit screaming is loud and full of anguish.

That was the sound that brought me outside in the still dark.  This is what I saw.

Well.  The rabbit stopped screaming.  He was wedged in that fence very tightly.  Fortunately, after slowly pushing one hip, then the other, little by little through the chain link, the rabbit was unstuck.  Once free of the fence the rabbit turned tail (what was left of it) and ran quite fast away from his morning  nightmare.

Henry strutted around the yard carrying the trophy tail.  I took it from him and flung it over the fence.  The rabbit has not returned to claim it, as yet.

Friday, March 25, 2016

Good Friday

Let's do Philippians 2:8-11.                     Go.
 I'll start.

And being found in human form he
 humbled himself and became obedient
 unto death, even death on a cross.

Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed
 on him the name which is above every name,
 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
 in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 
 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

Monday, March 21, 2016

Birds in Heaven

Winter has winded down and birds are whopping it up.  Robins gather, preparing to pair off.

Beyond the Robin filled tree, the raucous cry of Red-winged Black Birds mingles with the dour cry of Mourning doves.

A pair of swans flying no more than thirty feet overhead, their long necks stretched toward their destination, are silent, but for the whooshing of huge flapping wings.

Certain male ducks are quarrelling, jockeying to be Top Drake.

Mabel was a bird watcher- from the inside Finches to the outside Sparrows.  Last April when we brought baby ducks into the basement, Mabel was so fascinated, that in spite of the discomfort of stiff joints, she repeatedly charged down the stairs to visit the bird youngsters.

Sadly, Mabel didn't get to see the ducks grow up.

Mabel has been on my mind a lot lately.  She has been gone for not quite a year.  I thought I'd used up all my tears.  Not so.

There is, at least, some comfort in the certain hope that there are many many birds in Heaven with Mabel right now.

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Pop Culture Frenzy, Round 44

Welcome once again to Pop Culture Frenzy.  There's a Let's Detest Donald Trump mania going around. 

Several celebrities have promised/threatened to leave the country if Donald Trump is elected president. Who are these people? Bonus question: is their leaving a good thing or a bad thing?

Miley Cyrus. 
She won't be missed
The USA can do with one
less skank.
Why is her tongue always
hanging out?  I thought
 humans cooled themselves with
 sweat through the skin.
Hostmaster:  Fluffy.  How about you explain this to our na├»ve friend later -in private.
She's not a skank.  She is
just expressing herself as
an adult.  Being a child star
she was held back from
 growing up.  People can't
handle that she is an adult
sexual being now.
Hostmaster:  all righty.  Cyndi, do you have a new answer to the main questions?  
Cher.  She would be a
great loss to American
Culture.  What a talent. 
What a strong woman.
Certainly, the greatest
loss would be her insightful
tweets about Trump.  You know, like
how he is a #~&*^_#!!

Hostmaster:  Byran?

Whoopie Goldberg.  No loss.
She is a spent force.  Once she
was funny.  Now she sits around on
 that TV show looking like an angry bull
dyke making unbelievably pompous
ignorant statements.  My personal
favorite is her declaration that Roman Polanski
 didn't "rape" rape that thirteen year old girl. 
Then there's the goofy race accusations. 
She ought to join up with Al Sharpton.
Hostmaster:  Sharpton has said he'd leave the US if Trump is elected president too.  Maybe he and Whoopie could start a Racial Justice Company in their new  home country.

If they made a horror movie with
bobble head monsters,  Al Sharpton should star.
He scares me.  

  Let's end this round.  Celebrities bore me.  How about some brunch.  Mimosas are on me!
Round 44
Fluffy/Molly  20
Bryan/Cyndi   18

Saturday, February 27, 2016

Cone, Coned, Coning

The first weeks of 2016 have been busy, veterinarianly speaking.  Lily was spayed.  Clover was spayed.  Lois got a mysterious booboo on her face.  That specter called The Cone was upon us.

What was gleaned from these conical adventures?  Well, putting a plastic cone on a dog's head is sometimes a good thing, sometimes a not so good thing, and sometimes it just can't be done.

Yes, a cone can keep a dog from aggravating a wounded area thus providing more efficient unmolested healing, all while allowing the dog to move about in her normal routine.  Unless the dog involved is Lily.

Lily held still as the cone was pushed over her head and the tie tightened around her neck.  Then she did a bucking broncho impersonation.  Then she stopped.  She stood like a statue.  And stood like a statue some more.  (You may be wondering why I didn't photograph Lily the Cone Wearing statue.  All I can say is, it seemed too easy a shot.  Instead, here's a picture of her under the kitchen table where she retreated after the cone removal.  Note her inscrutable expression.)

Needless to say, we couldn't keep Lily coned long term.  If the dog won't move, she can't rest, she can't eat, she can't go about her doggy business.  Off came the cone. 

When she licked at the incision, I yelled at her. In response, she would stop licking and give me that inscrutable look.  Soon she didn't seem to notice the sutures at all and left the area alone.  It appears that my yelling was as pointless as the cone.

Lily's cone-free recovery was a success.

Then there's Lois, Happy Cone Customer.

We'll never know what the heck happened to Lois's face.  One day she was rubbing her face on the floor.  The skin surrounding her right eye was swollen and a curious shade of lilac.  (Lois has white hair on that side of her head, thus the skin is supposed to be pale pink.)

The vet offered some magic balm for the skin and a nice new cone.  Cone clad, Lois went about her routine, remaining cheerful even while bumping into doorways and people's shins. 

A week later, the skin was no better.  Lois remained coned while taking a course of antibiotics.  Another week marked the transformation of lilac colored skin to mauve, and finally to pretty pink.

Lois had a successful coned aided recovery.

Then there's a dog who can't be coned.  I wouldn't have believed this- till it happened.  Following Clover's spay, a vet tech told me with all the earnestness of someone who thinks they've seen it all, that they don't make cones that fit Clover.  It's the long neck, you see.  Naturally, incredulously, I said, "what?!  Sight hounds aren't coned, ever?  Nobody has ever coned a cone to fit them?"

The vet tech offered a resigned shrug.  Then she suggested that if we have trouble with her licking the sutures we could do what some farmers do.  Fashion a bucket for her head. 

Let's see, take the Sawz-all to cut a hole in the bottom of a bucket then put it over the dog's head, then what?  Tie a rope around it and affix it to her body somehow?  Just hope it wouldn't come off, maybe?  In the end, or rather the beginning, we did not attempt to bucket Clover over the head.  The hope was that she'd be one of those easy going beasts that pays no mind to shaved tummy and incision discomfort.

Unfortunately, Clover was EXTREMELY determined in her attention to those sutures on her abdomen.  So we covered the area with clothes.  Our first attempt involved my tee shirt and The Handsome One's underwear.  (The cool thing about boy's panties is there's an opening for a tail to poke through.)  Alas, Clover found ways it get under and around the clothes, even with tape holding the outfit together and festively colored silk scarves cinched at the waist.

One the bright side, we didn't have to return to the vet two weeks post op for suture removal.  Clover, the unconeable, proved to be a do-it-yourselfer.