Category: short story

What A Day – Is This An Omen?

Do you believe in omens? Most of the time I don’t, but sometimes there are days. I believe you make your own karma. You make a conscious decision to be happy and look for the positive in your life or you choose to be miserable, it’s your choice. But there are times when I wonder if there is a greater power at work and just for some galactic grins and giggles, picks some hapless soul to screw with that day. If this is truly the case, then I must have drawn the black marble today.

For starters, it started to rain this morning, a good thing with this drought, but the weather forecasters had predicted rain this evening and I had planned a Walmart run on my way to work. Walmart is open twenty-four hours a day and going at six in the morning and missing the crowds is a bonus. No big deal, but with the thunder and lightning, AJ makes a trip to Pete and Mac’s for doggie day care, because he is terrified of thunder and lightning. His terror turns outward and he leaves a swathe of destruction in his path. Pete and Mac’s doesn’t open until 6:30, so no Walmart trip. That means weekend crowds for me. Yay.

Because of the aborted Walmart trip, I was ready to go early but couldn’t so I decided to make a side trip to the bank and deposit a check I had received. Guess what, the ATM is not covered, so my left arm and side of my head got wet pushing buttons, inserting deposit envelope and retrieving the receipt. Lovely. My next stop was Pete and Mac’s to drop off AJ. Of course, AJ wanted to stop and pee on the way in, so now I have matching wet arms and head. The day is just getting better by the minute. I got AJ dropped off and got to meet a really sweet large Bloodhound, a plus.

I hopped on the highway to go to work or at least tried to hop on the highway. Some jerk decided he needed the right lane and wouldn’t budge, even though no one was in any other lane. Where is my bazooka when I need it?  Driving down the highway I decided to turn the knob from air conditioning to vent and the knob jumped off and dropped to the floor board somewhere on the passenger side.  Super.  Halfway to work and the windows started fogging up from the humidity and I can’t adjust the temperature control because the frigging knob is somewhere out of reach.  I guess I’ll know when I hit something by the sudden deceleration. 

After a miserable day at work with a pounding headache, I come home to try and relax after taking the dogs for a walk.  And the crowning achievement to my day, AJ charged after a flock of geese jerking the leash, dislocating the little finger on my left hand.  My consolation for the day was my sacrifice saved some other poor soul from a torturous day.

And The Heat Goes On

The heat and the drought just keeps coming.  It’s like a blast furnace each time you walk outside.   Taking the dogs on walks is short and slow.  They don’t want to be out in the heat anymore than we do.  Of course this is the year that we’ve added two raised beds to grow more vegetables.  Two more beds means two times more watering, which translates to a much higher water bill.  This is a double edged sword for me.  I love the taste of home grown tomatoes, nothing like a big juicy home grown tomato.  With this drought we have to water almost every day just to keep the plants from withering. 

I’m also the utility police at home.  I walk around turning lights off, raising or lowering the thermostat and turning the faucet off in mid tooth brushing.  I am just plain cheap when it comes to wasting electricity, gas and water.  I rant on about saving energy, conserving water and recycling everything we can possibly recycle.  Mitch made and installed three rain barrels around the house so I can water the gardens with rainwater.  This year all of the rain barrels are bone dry, no water to even dribble out. 

We decided to use soaker hoses to accomplish watering more efficiently.  The problem was that the three raised beds were too far apart so we were wasting a lot of water in between.  Mitch solved this by cutting up the seventy five foot hose into three sections which he snaked through each bed then connected the spaces in between with regular hose pieces.  This has worked out very well for us.  Now we’re only watering the vegetable beds and not everything in between.  Of course the yard has gone dormant and I’m hoping will recover next spring. 

Whether you believe in global warming or not, this weather pattern sucks and I’m ready for it to be over.

We Were Not Alone

Our normal morning walk at o’dark thirty, 4:30am actually, started as always.  Me trying to get the dogs and leashes under control.  AJ will only walk on my left, Charlie and Orso don’t care which side they walk on as long as Orso is on the outside and Charlie is next to me.  Orso and Charlie will switch from the left side to right multiple times during the walk almost always by crossing behind me causing me to have to juggle the leashes around to keep from getting yanked around from behind.

On this particular morning, the walk started off with our normal chaos, sniffing, peeing and snatching grass to munch on during the walk.  But when we got to the long stretch of road that has no houses on either side, a ravine on the left and a wooded hill on the right with houses on the hilltop, the dogs discovered we weren’t alone.  Something was keeping pace with us.  The invisible stalker was up on the hill to our right.  Orso discovered our stalker first, stopping and sniffing the air with his head held high, straining at the leash to get a closer sniff.  Charlie soon caught a whiff and joined Orso straining at his leash too trying to get closer to whatever “It” was.  I looked around in the gloom, but couldn’t see anything, I listened intently to try and catch any rustling sound to try and determine where and what was out there, but I didn’t hear anything.  I tugged on their leashes to pull them away from the area and hopefully leaving the thing, whatever it was alone and hopefully leaving us alone too.

But no, our invisible stalker stayed with us, keeping pace staying high on the hill and being quite stealthy.  The only giveaway was his scent which evidently was tantalizing to the dogs.  Me not so much.  I couldn’t smell, see or hear the stalker, so I was getting pretty unnerved trying to keep the dogs under control and alert to a possible threat.  The rest of the walk was uneventful when we got past the dark stretch of road and back into the glow of the streetlights.  Of course that was until Orso shook his head and I about jumped out of my skin.  Just a little jittery, silly me.

The Call Of The Wild…Sorta

Camping in the wild lends to unique sounds from the calls of the local inhabitants claiming their territory or seeking a mate.  Hearing wolves howl late at night is both an exhilarating and unnerving sound, knowing you’re not alone and wild animals are nearby, protected only by the wall of a camper or the thin material of a tent.  Camping out in the wild you expect and hope to hear the noises, that’s one of the reasons you’re out there in the first place.  Since I don’t go camping, my idea of roughing it is that the ice machine is at the other end of the hall, I usually only get to hear the late night sounds of wolves howling on National Geographic.  So imagine how unnerving it was to wake up to the sound of howling at midnight in our bedroom. 

I bolted straight up out of a semi-sound sleep looking around trying to find the source of the soulful howl.  The howling came from across the room, inside the bedroom.  Living in the Midwest, we don’t have wolves, a few coyotes, but no wolves, so you can imagine how being roused out of my sleep to the eerie howl would be a bit strange to say the least.  The sound didn’t come from outside, because the dogs were still asleep and if there was an interloper outside our window, the dogs would have jumped up barking and throwing a fit.  AJ was asleep in the round bed next to my side of the bed so he didn’t howl.  Charlie was asleep at the foot of our bed, so he didn’t howl either.  No, the howling came from the dog bed next to Mitch’s side of the bed.  Orso was dreaming and for some reason he howled in his sleep.  The weirdest part was the neither of the other dogs stirred a bit.

Why I have no idea, because when they’re awake, they don’t howl.  I know, I’ve tried to get them to howl, but they won’t cooperate.  So I’m usually standing around howling all be myself, looking pretty silly.  Most dogs run in their sleep or make small woofing sounds, but I’ve never heard them howl.  So now I have a dog that dreams he’s a wolf.  Next he’ll start sleep walking, raiding the fridge.  I see lots of sleep interrupted nights ahead.

Flashcards

I think I’ve come up with the perfect solution to our groundskeeper’s good plant vs weed recognition problem.  Flashcards.  Very simple yet elegant as a solution.  Flashcards work for kids in school.  Math and alphabet flashcards have been used for decades.  So maybe plant flashcards would work.  I would take pictures of all the different plants growing around the lake and laminate the photos to plastic cards.  I can draw a circle with a slash through the middle of photo of a weed and even type a description below the photo.  Something like, “kill on sight” or maybe “wanted dead and decimated” for a weed and “diplomatic immunity” or “endangered species” for a keeper plant.  This may slow down the weed eating process around here, but eventually hopefully the groundskeeper will get it and maybe some poor plant souls will be spared the weapon of plant destruction.   Especially the ones I’ve paid money to put in the ground.

The flashcards could be put on a ring and hang from his belt for easy plant recognition access.  The groundskeeper would walk along flip up and peruse the flashcard to scan the photos searching to determine if the plants are public enemy #1 or keepers.  Who knows maybe flashcards will catch on for gardeners everywhere.  I wonder if I should apply for a patent.

Definitely Not A Botanist

Sunday the temperature was around ninety nine degrees and it felt like stepping into a blast furnace when you walked outside.  A great day to sit inside a dark movie theater, munching popcorn and watching the latest movie, or visiting a museum, anything indoors out of the heat. 

But the heat didn’t deter one man, our local groundskeeper.  A very nice man that works hard to mow and maintain the city grounds.  One of his tasks is to weed whack the weeds along the road edge to keep the weeds from growing too tall.  I couldn’t believe he was out in the middle of the day wielding his weed eater attacking the straggly weeds on the other side of the road.  He either doesn’t feel the heat like the rest of us or he has a death wish.  Or maybe I’m just a sissy.

I walked outside to get the burgers off the grill and saw him walking up the road away from my boulder, weed eater in hand and thought surely he didn’t use the weed eater on my ornamental grass that I had just planted a month ago.  Surely not.  Just to be sure I walked down the yard, burgers in tow to check on my grasses.  Sure enough he cut the grasses down all the way to the nubs.  I wanted to chase him down, rip the weed eater out of his hands and club him with it.  All I could think of was the hard work I’d done, digging up the grasses to replant, digging holes in the gravelly ground and replanting the grasses.  Not to mention having to listen to the diatribe from the neighbor, that I placed the granite boulder in the wrong spot.  I carefully watered the grasses until they were growing and looked like they would take hold.  Now the grasses were mere stubs in the ground. 

How could anyone mistake the tall graceful clumps of ornamental grass to common everyday weeds?  Was he blind, using the weed eater as a seeing cane to clear his path?  No, he just has no clue between the difference of a keeper plant and a noxious weed.  The only reason our local groundskeeper is still walking without the need of a cane, was the look of horror and regret on his face, and his comment of “Oh s***” when I explained to him I planted the grasses on purpose that he just mowed down with his weapon of plant destruction.

He’s definitely not a botanist.

It’s Too Hot To Go Outside

It’s hot and the dogs don’t want to go outside, but still want to play, hence the house has become their personal play zone.  The living room is the wrestling ring, the bed is the trampoline for their jumping on and off point to get a better vantage point in the wrestling ring and the dining room is the challenge zone.  That is where one of the dogs will square off on one of the other two issue a challenging bark, make a threatening lunge and then turn tail run to the living room and wait in the wrestling ring for a challenger to show up.  Of course with 3 male dogs, even though they are all neutered, they are still male dogs, there is always a challenger.  Then the fight is on, barking, charging each other from opposite sides of the room for a “vicious” chest slam and finally crashing to the floor for some serious neck chewing.

 Orso will pull away jump up and run to the bedroom, leap on the bed and stand there barking at the other two.  What a lame-o.  If no one accepts the challenge, he will then leap off the bed and rush back into the fray, because it’s more fun to be chewed on.  I don’t know why, I’ve watched them chewing on each other and it looks very painful.  Grabbing the jowl or face with their teeth and pulling back, makes me hurt just watching.  These three will do this all the time.  Go figure.

After much barking, chest slamming and chewing all three will collapse on the floor panting thoroughly spent and happy, watching me right all the knocked over furniture.  I think we need more dogs.

Fire And Ice

Mitch told me this morning that we were the same story, just different editions so you wind up with the same story content being on different pages.  I asked him to explain what he meant.  He said that when I ask if he’s happy his usual answer is that he’s okay.  Okay to him is that yes, he’s happy and content.  He went on to say that while his happiness level on a scale of ten, he is maybe a five or a six (perfect for him), my happiness level is closer to a nine or a ten.  The reason for his declaration was that yesterday I had confronted him and asked point blank if he was happy because he had been walking around for almost a year now with this look of desperate misery.  He has been more closed than normal and giving off people repellent vibes.  I gave him the chance to clear the air and tell me up front what it would take for him to be happy.  I’m a true believer in making yourself happy because no one else out there is going to.  If you can’t be happy and content with yourself how can you possibly be happy in any kind of relationship?

I have to explain something about Mitch.  Mitch is reserved, closed and mostly very stoic. A classic introvert.  I think he was born old, an old soul is how his mother used to describe him.  Me, I’m probably never going to grow up. Where is the fun in that?  I on the other hand am open, happy most of the time and very demonstrative.  An extrovert through and through.  He was raised in a family that didn’t touch much, very little hugging, while I was raised in a family that hugged and kissed all the time.  We told each other that we loved them (not my brother when he was kid – yuck!).  That was a real challenge for Mitch, getting used to me touching and kissing him especially in public.  In reality we are total opposites, maybe that is what attracted me to him, the quiet reserve.  I wanted to dig and uncover the fire underneath all the layers.  And yes there is a fire way down deep.

He went on to explain that he is very task oriented and focuses all of his attention and energy on the one task at hand.  He does not multi-task well.  That was why he was coming off distracted.  It’s like a news reel in his head, total focus on the current project or problem.  Right now it is the remodel of the dining room and before that, The Great Bathroom Remodel, where every forward progress was accompanied with two steps back.  Maybe I’m working him too hard. 

I know that I’m a challenge to live with and he certainly is too, but isn’t that half the fun, having to figure out what truly makes us tick?

Happy Birthday AJ

We acquired AJ when he was two years old.  He was a shy black lab with somber eyes that were slightly hooded, like a bird of prey.  His flight instincts were and still are very strong.  He was afraid of just about everything.  We discovered very quickly that we would have work very hard to get him to overcome his fears of the unknown.  AJ had never seen stairs and had no idea how to walk up or down them.  He had never walked on hardwood and tile floors.  The first week he was with us, we had to run a trail of throw rugs and towels throughout the house in order to get him from one side of the house to the other.  People terrified him.  He would hide behind me in order to get away from well meaning strangers.  AJ was and still is the most beautiful hunting dog I’ve ever seen in the field.  Graceful, fast and always in the right place to point, yes he’s a pointing lab, and flush the ever elusive pheasant.  He is most alive out in the field working a hot scent.

Ten years later, AJ is one of our “official greeter” dogs, ready to greet anyone that wants to give away a few pets or ear scratches.  His eyes are still soft and sweet when he looks at me, there is a complete devotion that I don’t think I will ever see in a dog’s eyes ever again.  AJ loves me as much as I love him.  He lays next to the bathtub when I take a shower and is a constant companion. 

He has slowed down a bit over the years.  His clownish antics are fewer and farther apart, though he will still wrestle briefly with Orso, but he can’t hang with the big dogs for long.  AJ has some gray hair on his chin, but not that much.  His hips are still strong and can jump in and out of the station wagon easily.  His depth perception is starting to deteriorate.  AJ struggles going from bright rooms to darker doorways, which breaks my heart, knowing that he is aging so I have to be grateful for the time I still have with him.  

But not today.  Today is AJ’s birthday.  He turns twelve years old today.  For breakfast we had peanut butter, one of AJ’s favorites and for dessert tonight, it will be frozen pumpkin yogurt pops.  Even if AJ doesn’t quite get the reason for the special treats I do.  AJ was and is truly a gift to me and I’ve been so lucky he came to live with us.

The Wrong Spot

When we demolished and rebuilt our deteriorating retaining wall, we found a huge granite boulder buried under the wall.  We paid someone to come and unearth it for us.  He unearthed it easily and even placed the boulder in the exact spot I wanted it moved to.  In front of our house is a flat area that people will park on to visit the people across the street.  Digging ruts in our yard and never bothering to ask if we mind.  I have long been contemplating various possible solutions to the problem. Landmines, punji sticks and curled razor wire seemed a bit over the top, but I was getting close to my wit’s end as to what to do.  I had long considered a boulder but the size I needed was cost prohibitive, so it was very timely that we literally were sitting on the very solution to my problem and a legal solution to boot.  Bonus!  Of course when the man with the backhoe came out and moved the boulder for us the offending neighbors were out in force to watch with great interest.  Questions were asked as to why I had it put there and to be polite I just said that it was the perfect spot.  I would plant some ornamental grasses around it and how pretty it would look and yada-yada-yada.  Nothing was said at the time about my rock putting a damper on our yard being a parking spot, maybe they hadn’t figured it out yet.  I just played it off as being totally oblivious to anything but my new rock. 

I decided to dig up some of my ornamental grass that has just taken over and is growing in places I don’t want it to, and replant in clumps around the back of the boulder to accentuate the rock.  Plus it makes the rock look even bigger.  Another bonus; rock looks bigger, takes up more space!  Of course while I’m digging holes around the rock, a neighbor comes over to ask what I was doing.  I looked down at the holes and the temptation was strong to tell him that I had hacked Mitch up and  was burying body parts around the boulder, but I restrained myself and explained the obvious, since the grass was laying in clumps next to the rock.  Just as I was finishing up planting the last clump, the neighbor turned and told me that I had put the rock in the wrong spot.  I looked around, played dumb and said, “The wrong spot?  Really?”  Since I wasn’t playing into it, he had no opening to say that I’d ruined an awesome parking spot for anyone that wanted to use our yard as a Parking Spots R Us.  He said that if I wanted to sit on the rock the only view I had was his house.  I said that maybe someone would sit there to wait for a bus.  The only bus that comes by is a school bus and it doesn’t stop here.  He said that maybe he would sit on my rock.  Again the temptation was great to say something really wicked and evil, but all I said was that he could sit on my rock whenever he wanted to.

But now I’m worried that if want to do anymore landscaping I’ll put it in the wrong spot.