Category: writing woes

Just Another Monkey in the Show

I had to have the talk with Charlie. You know the talk where I had to explain who was the boss and who wasn’t. Charlie likes to think he’s the alpha dog in this pack and we have to remind him constantly that he’s not. Charlie sees it as his mission in life to be the tattletale on Orso. He used to rat out AJ before he died in December, but now he focuses all of his attention on Orso.

Poor Orso, who doesn’t quite get it, usually is standing there with a big sheepish look on his face, as if saying, “What! I didn’t do anything. Why is everybody looking at me?”

Charlie is a bully and we have to watch him carefully to put a stop to his bad behavior before it escalates, because it can and has. Orso, the recipient on the bullying, looks so pathetic after Charlie is mean to him that it makes me what to hold and cuddle him, to protect him. Of course with Orso weighing in at ninety-eight pounds, I cannot hold him. So he gets lots of hugs instead.

For anyone who didn’t know Charlie’s history, they would think he was a rescue that had been abused. But no, we picked out Charlie in a litter of three puppies. He’s known nothing but the good life from ten weeks old to his present eight years to date. Our supposition to his bullying and animal aggression behavior comes from being attacked as a puppy by a dog who was walking on one of those retractable leashes and was way too far away from the owner. It’s been downhill since then.

Just the other night, Charlie was sitting on the edge of the bed when Orso walked in the bedroom and decided that this was his room and Orso didn’t have the correct password. I had to explain to Charlie that he was not the ringleader here. He was just another monkey in the show.

In this three ring circus, I am the ringleader and there’s not enough room at the top for another one. I don’t share well with others.

My Hooligans

What is up with these two?  Orso and Charlie are at it again.  Once again they lulled me into a false sense of security thinking that they could be trusted to have the run of the house while home alone.  I was sure that since AJ was gone that these two hooligans would behave without AJ to instigate raiding the pantry.  And once again I was wrong.  I should be used to being wrong.

I know that with my foot surgery things have been thrown off.  Their routine has changed drastically.  But it’s not like they are getting no exercise.  We have our best friend coming over every day and walking the dogs, giving them lots of work and exercise.  So what happened?

I came home from work and was greeted by Mitch telling me to go check the kitchen and see the gift that the two had left for us.  Knowing that was not a good omen, I hobbled into the kitchen to find a mangled jar of my favorite local honey on the counter.  Evidently someone, my guess, Orso jumped up on the table and snatched the bottle of honey off the table and chewed the top off to enjoy my honey.  There was more than half gone.  I hope he gets sick, but not in the house.  But he won’t, he’s a Labrador retriever.

At dinner though we discovered another surprise.  Mitch went to butter his baked potato and looked at me and asked where the butter was.  Not on the table.  We went on a butter tub hunt throughout the house, kind of like an Easter egg hunt.  We searched under tables and dressers, under the bed and in the corners.  No luck.  The tub of butter has disappeared.  No slimy smears, no bits of plastic about.  Nothing, no clue, just no butter.  It was as though a master cat burglar had come into the house stole the butter and disappeared without a trace.

Now comes the fun part, watching the dogs closely to make sure they don’t get sick.  Poop watch, checking for bits of plastic, is so much fun and something I thought we were beyond now that AJ is not here.  Wrong again.

Growing up Without a Helmet

Today’s world has changed so much from the fifty plus years ago that I grew up in.  I’m lucky I survived.  Or maybe today’s world would not have survived fifty years ago.

How we survived is a miracle in itself.  Bicycle helmets were unheard of in the sixties.  Elbow and knee pads, are you kidding me?  We took our chances and actually showed off every skinned knee and elbow like a badge of honor.  We relished the retelling of our accidents with great animation and embellishment.  Of course after shedding huge tears and getting swabbed down with iodine, which stung much worse than the scrape.

My first trip to the emergency room was when I was three years old.  I was hot rodding on my tricycle and fell forward splitting my chin wide open requiring three stitches.  After that was when I grabbed a knife by the blade, of course, at four and sliced open my left hand.  I didn’t go back to the emergency room until I was eleven when at a huge family get together, I was showing my uncle how good I was at walking on my stilts.  My cousin sprayed me with a hose, causing me to lose my balance and the right stilt slipped and stabbed my left leg below the knee, leaving a huge gash.  That required thirteen stitches, three of which I promptly broke.  I didn’t have any more bleeding accidents after that, but suffered two broken toes and twisted ankles too many times too count.  I was not any more graceful growing up than I am now.

Today you get a ticket if your kids are not in safety seats or strapped in with seatbelts.  When I grew we sat on our parents laps or even stood up in the front seat while driving down the road.  Cars didn’t even come with seat belts.  We rode around in the back of pickup trucks and even sat on the tailgate while the truck was moving.  Granted I’m not advocating that, but we survived.  Today, no way, not with all of the lunatics on the road that are doing everything behind the wheel but driving.

Our parents would send us outside first thing in the morning and tell us not to come back inside until lunch.  There was no adult supervision while we played guns and war, had hideouts and forts in the woods.  We played on swing sets, swinging as high as we could then jumped off the swing just to taste the brief moment of flight.  There was also no predators (the human kind) either.  Today children are not allowed outside without adult supervision and rightfully so, because of the evil that lurks everywhere.

Today our parents would be arrested for child endangerment if we were allowed to live and play as we did fifty years ago.  We survived in spite of ourselves.  I know that a lot of the safe guards in place today are needed, but I also believe that some are too intrusive.  I for one am glad that I grew up when I did.  I don’t think I would do as well growing up today.

The Long Weekend

If I survive the weekend, it will be a miracle.  Friday started off with great promise.  I had an appointment to get my stitches out, woo hoo!  That meant a real shower in my future.  One that doesn’t have my foot and lower leg triple bagged to stay dry.  A shower that I could luxuriate in letting hot water wash over me with a wonderfully scented shower gel that I could lather up all over.  Ah, heaven.

But no, that is not in my future, not for another week.  My doctor unwrapped my foot, poked at my toes and wiggled them around to show me that everything is healing nicely even though my foot was very swollen.  After the sharp intakes of air and scrunching my face into grotesque masks of pain, the doctor left to get some contraption he said would help bring down the swelling.  Mitch told me how proud he was of me.  I asked him what he meant and he said he was surprised I didn’t start swearing.  I said that it was close, but I controlled myself.  I didn’t want the doctor to run fleeing the room in fear for his life.

He came back in with a compression squeezer that I have no intention of putting on because it was terribly painful when he slipped it on and dragged it past my stitches.  The doctor then pulled at two of my stitches and explained that though the incision was not gaping, it was not healed enough to remove the rest of the stitches.  Did I mention how much it hurt to have the two stitches removed?  Anyway after all of the manipulation, foot squeezing and stitch pulling, I was ready to go home and lay down for a while.  Plus I was so bummed out that I didn’t get my stitches out.

After resting for a while, I got up to get something unimportant, lost my balance and fell backwards hitting the back of my skull on my nightstand.  God that hurt so bad.  Crying and grabbing the back of my head to feel for blood, luckily I didn’t split my skull open but there was a huge lump already.  I dragged myself over to where I could reach my cellphone and called Mitch who was walking the dogs, because I wasn’t sure how bad it was and I was scared.  It was this awful stabbing pain that felt like a thousand needles in the back of my head.  All I could think of was that I had fractured my skull.  Mitch rushed back, helped me off the floor and put me back in bed.  He examined my head and got ice packs to help bring down the large knot at the base of my skull.  I think I scared him as much as I scared me.  No blurred vision, no nausea and my pupils worked so we decided not to go to the emergency room.  Just rest and watch me.  Sorry not this time Aflac.

Saturday I woke up, surprise I didn’t die in my sleep.  I’m really glad for that.  We went to the grocery store, my first outing since other than work and the doctor’s office I’ve been pretty house bound.  The day was pleasant, clear skies and mild, Mitch was going to mow and weed eat the yard.  This is my job because when Mitch mows or weed eats, he mows and weed eats everything growing.  It doesn’t matter what it is.  It’s in the way, so it has to go.  In order for that to not happen, Mitch set me up in a chair on the porch and with blue flags he walked around the yard pointing at various plants waiting for a mow or no mow sign from me.  If I gave the no mow sign he planted a blue flag next to it.  The grass was terribly tall, so mowing would take a while.

The dogs and I decided to go back in the house while Mitch slaved away.  I opened the kitchen door let the dogs in and started in myself.  I hopped in got the left crutch planted when the door closed on the right crutch throwing me off balance.  I started to fall forward and accidentally put weight on my left foot.  As soon as I realized what I was doing I lifted my foot which caused me to fall forward to my knees.  There is no way I could stand up from that position so I had to drag myself to the bathroom and pulled myself up on the toilet.  I am so graceful.

Please just let survive this weekend.

My Poor Charlie

Poor Charlie, he’s having a bit of a struggle getting used to this total disruption into his world.  Most dogs prefer a routine.  They like a schedule, getting fed at a certain time every day, taking their walks at the same time daily and knowing that you’ll be there for loves are their whole world.  Charlie is the poster dog for routineness.  So these latest events, my surgery, Mitch walking the dogs alone in the evenings and our close friend walking them in the mornings and not at the usual 4:30am pre-surgery routine has thrown Charlie for a real loop.

He’s become clingier, staying very close to me or if I’m not in bed, laying in my spot.  He has started growling at all of us.  Charlie has always been a bit psychotic, but now he’s going round the bend.  He was lying in his bed by the bedroom door when Orso walked in from the living room.  Charlie growled at Orso and wouldn’t let him in the bedroom.  Orso sat in the living room looking very pathetic waiting for me to get out of bed and crutch over to the doorway, blocking Charlie so that he could come into the bedroom.

Last night I came into the bedroom to find Charlie lying in my spot all cozy and had no intention of moving.  I told him to go and nudged him, he responded by growling at me.  I looked down at him and thought, “Are you kidding me?  Not me! Huh uh!”  So I told him “off” in no uncertain terms and gave him another nudge, to which Charlie responded by getting up, giving me a deep open throated growl, jumped off the bed and when to sit in his dog bed looking very unrepentant.  I’m pretty sure that he was thinking, “How dare she make me move.  I was there first.”  I think he was plotting to eat me in the night while I slept.

Charlie doesn’t handle change well and this is clearly apparent with his behavior.  When we brought Orso home for the first time Charlie wanted to kill him and tried a few times.  That took hiring an animal behaviorist to get back to a harmonious house.  I’m not sure how to fix this new wrinkle.  I’m at a total loss.

Short of tranquilizers, for him not me, I am not sure what to do.

The Walk

The moon hung low on the horizon huge and very bright.  Walking down the road, the woman felt as though someone or something was watching her.  She tried to shake off the feeling and kept walking.  Cara just had to get out and clear her head.  She and Ryan were fighting more and more.  The fights were becoming more vicious and hurtful.  Cara was tired of the arguments and wanted to make some changes in her life.  All Cara wanted was some peace and balance in her life.

Deep in thought she didn’t notice the shadowy figure moving in unison with her down the road.  Cara rounded the bend and once again felt another presence.  She looked back over her shoulder but didn’t see anything.  Turning back around Cara came face to face with a tall ominous figure.  In the glow of the moonlight it seemed as if his eyes glowed in the dark staring intently into hers.  She tried to take a step back but was frozen in the road unable to move away from the fierce gaze.

As the figure reached toward her, Cara tried to scream but no sound came out of her open mouth.  Instead the figure leaned in and pulled her toward him lowering his head toward hers.  Cara felt his touch so tender against her lips moving down toward her throat, wanted to scream and be free but at the same time felt so alive, tingling with the anticipation of what was to come.  She felt his mouth on her throat caressing the skin, then a tingling sensation and suddenly she felt light and faraway.  As her life dimmed away she looked skyward and suddenly wished she hadn’t gone on the walk.

Hatchlings

We have hatchlings!  Just about two weeks to the day that I discovered the Robin’s nest and the three eggs have now hatched.  Now we have three tiny bodies that are all mouths chirping away mouths open waiting impatiently for their meals.

Everyday Mitch and I would peek out the kitchen window to check on mama to make sure she was still there and hadn’t abandoned the nest.  Each time the nest was empty I worried that she wasn’t coming back.  Weird huh, worrying about a bird and its nest?  It’s not like Robins are close to extinction or that I’m an extremist ornithologist.  Normally I don’t think twice about a bird’s nest and its contents.  The only time I even notice one is when I see broken eggshells on the ground or the nest gets blown out of the tree.

I think the reason this time is different is because the nest is so low to the ground, I can see in the nest standing next to the Hibiscus bush.  Being five foot two is low to the ground.  No concerns for overhead height restrictions here.  We have watched and worried about predators getting too close.  There are a lot of cats and snakes here.  I have worried about the weather, the rain and the cool temperatures.  You would think it was my nest and my eggs.

Now though we hatchlings and new worries.  Will the predators get to them, will they go out and party missing bird curfew?  I want to get close and take pictures but knowing mom and dad will be close by, I’m not that stupid.  I like my head without any holes from bird beaks or worse I don’t want the parents to abandon the nest leaving the babies.

But for now we hatchlings and I get to watch them grow.

Could it Be?

Dare I say the words?  I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t even think it.   I’m not a superstitious person, not usually anyway, but sometimes it just seems that from my mouth to Mother Nature’s ear.  Last year everyone called it the “Winter that didn’t Happen” and this year it’s been the “Winter that won’t go Away”.  It’s now May 5th, Cinco de Mayo, and we’ve been beset with snow and cold miserable weather across a fair amount of the country since February.

I wanted to plant radishes and lettuce while the weather was still cool, that didn’t happen.  No cool weather, but lots of cold wet icky weather.  So no fresh radishes or lettuce this year.  Last week my son had to cover his beds with a cold frame to protect the young plant shoots of his onions, potatoes, lettuce, etc.  Next weekend is Mother’s Day, the official day to plant tomatoes and other warm weather plants.  But I don’t know, the highs have been only in the forties and fifties, so the ground hasn’t had a chance to warm up much.

Today, though the sky is brighter, there is still cloud cover but the temperatures are warmer.  The high today is supposed to get up in the sixties, woo hoo.  The forecast for the week is looking optimistic, highs in the seventies, okay I can live with that.  One of our fears is that we will go from winter to summer, boom with no transition.  Just one day it will go from cold to blazing hot.

Back to my original question, dare I say the words?  I guess I’ll take a chance, here goes, “Maybe it is finally Spring”.  There I said it, cross your fingers.

Living with a Serial Killer

I live with a serial killer.  Although I’m not afraid for myself, others should be terrified.  I’ve watched enough episodes of Criminal Minds to know how to profile this serial killer.  Serial killers torture and kill small animals.  That fits him to a tee. He is remorseless.  He lives for the kill.  He loves to stalk, capture and murder squirrels, rabbits and moles, killing them with a viciousness only a true murderer can master.  This killer especially loves to hunt and kill lizards and snakes.  Charlie will stand motionless for minutes listening and staring intently at one spot waiting for some slight noise or movement.  As soon as the victim makes any sound or movement Charlie strikes with lightning speed and deadly accuracy, snatching the hapless reptile up, shaking the life out of the snake then slamming it to the ground for good measure.  How he does that always surprises me, those lizards are fast.  Who would think a dog would enjoy catching and killing snakes? Most snakes move pretty fast and disappear in the rocks.  His speed of execution is poetry in motion.  Deadly fluid poetry none the less.

Charlie will run down squirrels and rabbits, snatching them up on the fly, shaking and slamming the animal to the ground.  He will do this repeatedly until the poor creature is dead or wishes he was.  The mark of a true killer.  Moles are a particularly favorite victim of his.  I’m not sure if he hears the moles in the ground or smells them, but he will stand stock still for a moment, then start digging and without fail pull a mole out of the ground to torture and kill.  Charlie feels that it’s his purpose in life to rid the world of moles, snakes and lizards.  The moles I don’t care about, because of the damage done to our yard.  We even have friends that want us to rent him out to them.

I can see the ads now, “Serial Killer for Rent” “Mole Assassin for Hire” or “You Got Varmints – We Got Charlie, The Serial Killer”.

Early Spring Morning Hike

We disturbed a very large bird from its’ perch on top of a power line.

  I didn’t get a good look at before it flew off, but it was big.

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Charlie was busy hunting in a dead cattail marsh.

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The creeks are still very low.  Pretty but we need more rain.

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Orso coudn’t get enough running around.

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It was a beautiful morning just after sunshine.  The dogs didn’t

stop running the whole time.  They had so much fun, they didn’t really

even mind getting a bath when we got home.

Now I have tired happy and clean babies.

A great start for an early Spring Sunday morning.

These photos were taken with my Canon using a 55-250mm lens.