Sunday, December 29, 2013

Bubba? Is That You?

This morning Lois and I took our usual walk.  It was still dark.  The day before, temperatures had warmed up a bit, melting much of the pretty snow.  Then it cooled again.  The potential for ice patches under every step slowed our progress. 

Just ahead, there was something.  A rabbit perhaps.  No, too big to be a rabbit.  As we drew closer, whatever it was did not scurry away. What is slightly larger than a rabbit and unafraid of an approaching dog and human?  We were just two sidewalk squares away from the creature when identification became possible.  It was an orange and white cat. 

I stopped.  Lois stopped.  The cat just sat there.  For several seconds, we all remained motionless, looking at each other.  Memories of unpleasant encounters with cats flooded my mind.  Like the time I was walking with my late friend and Collie, Wilma.  A cat lounged on the grass next to the sidewalk.  As we passed by, the cat hissed and swung a handful of claws at Wilma.  Then there was the time, big Golden Retriever Hank and I were walking and a cat leaped out of a hedge and tackled Hank.  Hank laid on his back as the cat stood on his chest and clawed at his nose. 

Finally, I said to the orange and white cat, "look pal.  This is one stretch where there isn't much ice.  Let us through."

The cat didn't move.  Just beyond the orange and white cat, a couple more sidewalk squares distance, sat another cat.  This one was black and white.  He looked familiar.

No, there was no tearful reunion with warm hugs.  This black and white cat was probably Bubba, or one of his progeny.  Either way, we weren't friends, not even acquaintances.  Bubba was a feral cat.

It was time to quit the stand off.  I proceeded forward, Lois at my side.  The orange and white cat sauntered away.  Bubba darted away.

Lois and I went home and ate pancakes.

Skim through my rant on feral cats to learn more  About Bubba

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Merry Christmas!

The turkey has three more hours to cook.  To escape the tantalizing aroma, Mabel retreats to the yard.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Fluffy and George

So, what's this about Santa is white?

Beats me.  Like his skin color changes who he is?

Speaking of creating outrage.  How come PETA isn't
an end to reindeer abuse?
   Where's the Unions yelling
 about Santa's Elves' working conditions? 
Yeah.  And where's OSHA and the EPA on this?
 And DHS.  And what about cities with ordinances
 against stopping standing and parking on residential rooftops?
  And surely entering a domicile via the chimney
 goes against SOMEBODY's sensibilities.
Good thing Santa is a magic elf. 
Just imagine how bad it could get without that magic.

Friday, December 13, 2013

Christmas Trees and Dogs

At this festive time of year we are reminded that our dogs don't necessarily share our attitude towards decoration.

In other words, not all dogs are indifferent. 

Or just plain cooperative about following the rules.

Thus, this merry reminder that dogs don't always ignore things that don't belong to them.  Sometimes something,  a wooden snowman ornament for instance, is appealing.  Tell him NO!

We did.  Alas, it was after the snowman's arm had already been torn off.  Oh well.  The mangled snowman still hangs on the tree.  As Lester still hangs in our hearts.

Happy Holidays to all dogs and their people!