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Archive for the ‘Animals’ Category

HOORAH! Woot-Woot-Woot!  Yesterday I happily boxed up Satan’s Minions our chickens for transport to their new home! (Oh allllll riiiiight. So I didn’t really help. I supervised, didn’t I?)

dance-cowBegone, winged beasts! Oh pestilent poultry! Fowl land mine leavers most foul!  I command you to LEAVE THIS PLACE!  *Walks the yard holding a cross at arms length, swinging an incense orb in her other hand.

I. am. so. HAPPY!

For those just tuning in, I have a real thing about chickens. Their beady eyes, flappy wings and terrifyingly bold nature freak me OUT. Me noooo likey. I’ll spare the regular readers, but do a search for “evil chickens” in here and you’ll have reading material up the yazoo.

I was especially happy to see them leave after I spooked them by accident –with a plastic bag of all things– and one of them flew up in my face and hit me hard enough to bend my glasses. In. My. Face. In-my-FACE.

IN MY FACE!!!

*Waves goodbye while giddily breathing into a paper bag.

The absolute last, final word: Alektorophobics, you are NOT Alone!

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On the carpet. Hunched over, looking green and ready to do that thing that dogs do. On the carpet. On. The. CARPET!

Survival Mode!

I sprinted to the front door in my jammies calling, “DexterDexterDEXTER..!” in a blind panic, tripping on a toy, stubbing my toe on a door frame and mowing over the cat along the way.

But we MADE IT.  All manner of awfulness occurred outside. Can I get an Amen?

illWhy do sick dogs aim for the carpet?

Why do dogs chew up their toys and gag on small pieces?

Why do bloggers disappear into oblivion for a month and then announce their return with stories of Dog Yutz?

I cannot explain these things. But. I’ve gotten a TON of work finished in the past few weeks, so now I get to play on my blogs again. Yaaaayyyy!

Missed ya.

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Random oddities from my house. Got any random oddities from yours?

1. I once named a pictus cat (aquarium bottom feeder) ‘Stevens’ just so I could call him Cat Stevensfish. ba-da-BUMP!  (You have to be at least 40 to get that lame joke.)

2. Currently, we have a kitty named ‘Fisher’ and in the aquarium, a red bellied pacus named ‘Cat.’  According to my husband, this is so we can call the cat ‘Fish’ and the fish ‘Cat.’ (And you thought the Cat Stevensfish joke was lame!)

3. Our 80 lb. rottie mix is deathly afraid of the neighbor’s chihuahua.

4. Our house eats hand towels and then regurgitates them into the wash. Despite my best efforts, there is never a hand towel available in the kitchen or the bathroom.  I put them out– really, I do –and they immediately disappear. As a result, I wash LOADS of hand towels, yet I’m forced to dry my hands on my jeans. *sigh*

5. I am mentally incapable of  keeping track of a cup of coffee. I drink the stuff every day, and yet I cannot finish a full cup without forgetting where I put the doggone thing down. I leave them in the bathroom, on dressers, on the front step…  By noon I’m usually on my 3rd or 4th coffee mug. When I do dinner dishes, I send the kids on a cup hunt to find any I lost all day. Do they make The Clapper for coffee cups? I really need to buy one!

Sooo…that’s random weirdness from my house. What can you share from yours?

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My fuzzy hero

Daughter #1 with my fuzzy hero

My husband was out of town last night. In his absence, Dexter the Dog slept next to our bed instead of his favorite spot in the hall. At some point during the night I had a nightmare…and evidently got rather vocal about it.

Enter my canine hero.

Dexter is an 80 lb. rottie mix who is absolutely NOT allowed on the furniture. But this was no ordinary evening–something was wrong. Someone (he thought) was hurting his Mama! 

I awoke from a very creepy nightmare to the sound of deep growling. Next thing I know, Dex is standing on his hind legs, front paws on the bed beside me, snarling and baring his teeth and ready to shred whatever nocturnal beastie would dare to hurt his Mommy!

He was just as shocked as I was when he saw no one else was there.

Instant embarrassment! Dex dropped to the floor, tucked his tail and hung his head in shame. He’d been on the furniture! And growling! At MOM! I got out of bed and told him what a good dog he was and hugged him tight. My pj’s smelled like dog after that, but who cares.

Every woman needs a strong defender who loves her. 😉

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Oh how I wish I had a photograph.

We live in the house of Stack-and-Pack; a two bedroom we outgrew long before we added two children and pets to the mix. Many moons ago we ran out of traditional storage space, and as a result we tend to go UP.

We’ve stacked, added shelving, bought taller dressers and bookshelves. We even built a cat perch atop our monstrous, fully enclosed guinea pig cage. The cat loves to sun himself up there and watch the guinea pig move around. (We had two guinea pigs, but recently lost one. The cat was not involved. lol!)

litter-boxWhen Dexter the Dog began snuffling the cat box, I began to worry. It’s a covered cat box, and if Dex ever trapped Fisher inside, there would be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Just in case, it too was moved upward, on top of the guinea pig cage, where it’s worked out just fine.

Until now.

This morning I heard from the other room the oddest sound. I stopped typing just to listen. sssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… What the heck? ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… And then a horrible, anguished yowling from the cat. As I jumped up to investigate, the dog came running from the direction of the noise with a look that clearly said, “I didn’t do it! Wasn’t me!”

ssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…RRRRROOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLL!

Again I tell you, I wish I had a picture! It seems our rather robust cat, who tops the scales around 20 lbs in winter, had used the facilities and attempted to exit the enclosed cat box. Instead, he tipped it forward, where it landed hole-side-down on top of the guinea pig cage. My kitty cat was trapped inside his litter box, face mashed up against the top of the cage beneath him, with no way out. Meanwhile, the litter flowed out of the box, into the cage and all over the floor.

sssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Fisher may never poop in a box again.

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We’re an English-speaking household, but ever since the girls were toddlers I’ve tossed the odd word or phrase from my rusty Spanish class days into conversation as a simple teaching tool. It’s become such a habit over the years that our whole family does it without giving it much thought.

It seems the pets have been paying attention.

I discovered, quite by accident, that Dexter the dog knows a little Spanish. We didn’t actively teach him Spanish commands, he picked them up on his own. Not bad for a 6 month old pup, not bad at all.

The first time I noticed a little something was last week.  I was coming out of the bathroom and almost ran over Dexter, who was camped out across the doorway. “Perdóneme,” (pardon me) I said, and He-Who-Normally-Lies-There-Like-Royalty actually jumped up and moved out of my way.

Odd.

The next time I took note was a few days ago when we got ready to go to the store. The whole family had been outside awhile, playing with Dexter to get his wiggles out before we left. “¡Vámonos!” (let’s go) I called out, and Dexter made an immediate beeline for the van. It seems he wanted to go for a ride, too. 

Oookayyy…

And then last night my daughter offered Dex a treat to ‘speak’. Hoping for more than one, he kept barking. Forgetting herself, Tasha snapped “¡Cállate!” (something I usually yell at the TV as I hit the Mute button.)

Dexter went silent. 

This morning I decided to test him. After returning from our daily trip of taking the kids to the bus stop in the van, Dexter and I began our usual walk toward the house. Mid-stride I breezily commented, “Vámonos.” Dex did an about face and ran back to the van.

Smart doggie.  I wonder if he knows his huevos are coming off today.

dex-and-pup1

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evil-chicken1(Not really, I just made that up.)

The evil peepers have infiltrated our routine as faux family members. Daily they’re brought food, water, hay and fresh straw. I see them out there, clucking around the yard in what appears to be normal barnyard behavior.

They think they have me fooled.

I know that a chicken’s brain is the size of a pea. This brings me no comfort as that’s one honker of a microchip. Have no idea what their armament capabilities might be. Hidden arsenal of WMD’s suspected.

Military training exercises apparent. Yesterday I watched them ice skate down their ramp from a strategic position. One after another. They did not fly, slip or falter down the icy slope into a confused heap. Oh no, one by one they struck a pose and SKATED. Once they reached the bottom, they laughed (laughed, I say!), fluttered back up into Hell’s Henhouse and repeated the exercise.

Deployment may be imminent.

Using a high-end Codex, I deciphered some of the encrypted cackling in their native tongue:

“Dude! Watch this gnarly tube..” 

“Pffft! That ain’t nothin’. Lookit, I can bunny hop the rail!”

“RADICAL! Seriously sick!”

Intentions unknown at this time. Will continue covert op to stockpile weapons and observe enemy movements.

End transmission.

Chapter IX: The Evil Chickens have LEFT the Building!

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