Tag: dogs

My Exciting Life

Is anybody out there bored and want some excitement in their lives? If so, come on over, I have fun and excitement to spare and I would love to share. The only catch is that you have to be up and ready to go at 4:30 in the morning. That’s when most of my fun happens, when it’s dark outside. No it’s not kinky; my exciting life revolves around my dogs. Our morning walks are always fun and sometimes quite thrilling, especially when I get to play boat anchor as they drag me off into the brush after a deer or a raccoon. This morning was no different, the only difference this time was it was all my fault.

Early this morning sometime after midnight it started snowing. We didn’t get much, only a dusting, just enough to cover the sidewalks and the grass. There were also a few slick spots on the roads here and there. We started off as usual with Orso walking searching for the perfect spots to pee and Charlie jerking back and forth trying his level best to pee on both sides of the road simultaneously, which is one of the reasons my chiropractor loves me so much. The walk was pretty much uneventful even when we walked past the ravine, Orso had his head up ears cocked hoping for something to move down there so he could charge off after whatever it was.

We walked out to the turnaround point and started back when both dogs headed down into the ditch on the side of the road, walking along like they were searching for the perfect spot to poop. Orso is so easily distracted that when he starts exhibiting the telltale signs we pay close attention and make sure all the elements for the perfect spot is right there for him. If you don’t own a dog, you won’t understand, but bear with me. So anyway, I was walking along the side of the road watching the dogs carefully so one doesn’t run into the other one and both are spaced out with plenty of room to do their thing. Orso was sniffing the ground and walking slowly, Charlie was a little higher up on the slope of the hill going up on the far side of the ditch walking slowly and I just knew we were going to have success when I got a little too close to the edge of the road.

I wasn’t looking where my feet were going and I stepped on a crumbling spot at the edge of the road and stepped off the road and into the ditch with them, only it wasn’t that graceful. I stumbled as I stepped off lost my balance and fell face first in the ditch almost on top of Charlie. He scooted out of the way and Orso tried really hard to escape in the other direction, but was all wrapped up in the leashes and could only stand there waiting for certain death. There I was lying face first in the ditch with one dog on one side of me and one dog on the other side of me just standing there looking at me not really sure what had just happened. I worked my way back up to my feet and reached down to pick up the leashes. I was covered in snow, dead leaves and who knows what else that resided in the ditch. Plus I had ruined the mood. There was nothing left to do but finish the walk in shame, knowing I was responsible for them being constipated.

But now I have another new name to go along with my list of alias. “Falls off Roads”, has a certain ring about it don’t you think?

My New Camera

For Christmas Mitch gave me a camera body to go with my other cameras and lens. He explained that this way I would always a camera ready if I wanted to use a different lens. That to me was a wonderful loving gift, one that I am not worthy of, but will spend a long time trying to live up to the ability of the camera and his love and thoughtfulness. The day after Christmas we took my new camera and the dogs out for a hike to practice with. The day was chilly, cloudy about 45 degrees and thoroughly enjoyable. We put colored bandannas on them just in case there were any deer hunters out and about and not mistake them for a wayward buck.

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Dead cattails in the small pond

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Orso up high trying to play mountain goat

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Orso playing in the bog

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Charlie and Orso checking out the local scents

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Charlie in his blue bandanna

How to get a Black Eye

Have you ever wanted a black eye? I know sounds weird, right? Who wants a black eye? Well think about it for a minute, what better way to garner sympathy without getting hurt so bad you can’t walk or worse end up in a hospital? You know when you’ve had a bad week where nothing you do is right and everybody is on your case; well going into work sporting a black eye will definitely get you looks of sympathy and shock. A myriad of questions about how you got it and what does the other guy look like may even bring offers of support and help if you play it up, wincing from the pain and making excuses about not seeing really well.

Well if you are interested in how to get a black eye without having to go up a very large man in a bar and insult him, which is not a good idea, (that could escalate and you may end up in traction) I have a couple of options for you, that are safer and not mean a trip by ambulance to the emergency room.

First off you need a dog. Not a little dog, little dogs are sweet and cuddly and can’t really do the kind of damage I’m talking about. I mean a big dog. Something big and clumsy and over-exuberant, one that really wants to show you how he feels about life in general. You need a dog that can and will leave a mark when you get up close and personal with the dog. I have a breed in mind, a very large chocolate lab.

Black eye option number one is a simple exercise, all you have to do is approach your large dog when he is excited, bend over and lower your head to just inches above his massive head and nose, do this as if you’re going to pick up something you’ve dropped on the floor. Your dog in his excitement raises his head up to bark in your face slamming his large wet nose into your right eye. Bonus he barks very loudly at the same time and now you’ve ruptured your eardrum and are deaf in the right ear. If done correctly this is guaranteed to blacken your eye and leave your ear ringing, causing you to walk around with a squinty right eye and will have to turn your head to hear anything said to you.

Black eye option number two is also simple to achieve if you have the right conditions. Take your very large dog for a walk in the rain, getting him good and wet. Come home unlock the door, step inside with your dog and take off your gloves so you can remove the leash from his harness. Once again you have to bend over and lower your head down so you are close to the dog’s head. As you reach down to unhook the leash from the dog’s harness, your wonderful large dog that has been standing very patiently waiting, decides to shake his entire body to shed the water from his coat. This time it is his large wet ears that will whip your face and eye like a cat of nine tails. Bonus this option will cause a million short dog hairs to get in your eye leaving it red and irritated in the eye as well as black and bruised around the outside of your eye.

Believe me both of these options will work for you, I know from actual “laboratory” testing. If you don’t have a very large dog and don’t want to bring one home on a permanent basis, I have one I will rent you. This one is guaranteed to leave you bruised and bent. Come to think of it, since this is Christmas Eve, this might be a great gift for that “hard to buy for friend”. Let me know, if you are interested, I would even consider free delivery.

The Jerk and the Doofus

This morning we woke up to the first snowfall of the season. Let me correct the term morning, morning was 1:15am. Mitch ever the dedicated wanted to get up an hour earlier than normal so he could get to work extra early in order to get all of the equipment they use at work up and ready for a day of deicing one airplane after the other. Anyway at 1:15 this morning we had about two inches of snow on the ground and it was still snowing fairly heavily.

After I fed the dogs and Mitch in that order, got him to work then it was time for our morning stroll. The dogs started off down the road with Orso the Doofus head down eating snow as he was loping along. He kept lurching ahead wanting to race around and play in the snow. Charlie the Jerk walked along at his usual pace head down sniffing the ground always hunting and because Mitch lets him get away with murder, Charlie has a really irritating tendency to race back and forth from one side of the road to the other, yanking my arm around. It is nearly impossible to be on both sides of the street at the same time, but Charlie gives it his best shot.

We had reached our turn around point on the walk and started back when Orso forgot he was eight years old and suddenly became a two year old again. He lunged forward yanking the leash causing me to lose my balance on the slick road. I went down in what had to be a very graceful plop in the road landing on my butt hard. I lost my grip on the leash and Orso took off with his butt down racing around in circles slipping and sliding in the snow. It was a good thing I let go of the leash because otherwise I would have literally been dragged down the road. On one of the laps around Charlie and me, Orso decided that both of us should join in the winter fun. He ran over me stepping on me and bashing into Charlie. Charlie didn’t forget he is ten years old and snapped at Orso growling and trying fruitlessly to get in a good bite or two, also stepping on me in the process.

Orso undaunted raced off to find a weapon to battle the Jerk with. He came across a stick snatched it up and waved it around whacking Charlie and me in the head. Charlie went after Orso with a deadly purpose, causing Orso to race away barking back at Charlie. Now I have one dog barking and one dog with murder in his eye at 3:30 in the morning. My neighbors just love us.

I was finally able to get back up on my feet and grabbed both leashes got the dogs under control and finished the walk with all of us covered in snow. It’s going to be a long winter.

My Inspiration

I get most of my creative inspiration from Mitch and the dogs. Granted all three have been very entertaining over the years giving me lots of good stories to write about. But now the dogs are much older, Charlie is ten and Orso is eight, and for the most part are calm and sedate spending more time sacked out either on our bed or the couch than up doing cute dog tricks. They still drag me around as a boat anchor when they spot something in the dark and want to give chase, just not as much as in the past. Orso will lunge forward give a big woof then sit because he knows I’m going to correct him and part of the correction is to make them sit then lay down, something I’ve been working on with both dogs. Making them sit then down to make them focus on me and break the focus on whatever it was that got them worked up in an agitated state. It works most of the time, but sometimes I still get yanked around getting body parts dislocated.

Mitch occasionally provides me with inspiration, usually because I come up with some off the wall idea or a remodeling project that always goes horribly wrong. With every project I always hear, “Just once I would like something to go right, just once!” Guess what, it never goes well. Everything always takes longer than expected and costs much more than it would if any other person was doing it. Part of the reason for that is because Mitch is so fastidious about his work and because the house we live in was built in three separate sections starting in 1928 and ending in 1986. But now the remodel of the house is almost done after eight long years, so there are less catastrophic remodeling projects to be had.

I came up with what I thought was a really great idea for future writing inspirations, but Mitch is not so keen on the idea. I suggested that since the dogs are old and not as much fun we should get a puppy. Mitch looked at me the same way a person looks a-would be stick up man who’s pointing a gun in their face. Shock and horror was written all over his face. I know we’ve always said that we would not get another dog until Charlie went to the “farm”, but I had a weak moment. My head knows that we can’t bring another dog into the house while Charlie is still alive, but my creative juices wanted a nudge. Charlie is animal aggressive and we have to work very carefully when introducing him to other dogs. It’s a long laborious process. When we rescued Orso, we had to call in an animal behaviorist to work with us just to keep Orso from ending up in the emergency clinic over and over. Even though Charlie is outweighed by thirty pounds, he can be a mean little dog.

“Are you out of your mind?” was Mitch’s response when he could finally talk. “We are not getting a dog.”

I knew that but I just wanted to see the look on his face when I suggested it. Besides if I start mentioning it occasionally, he’ll get used to the idea of getting another dog, in the future.

We Broke Them

Up bright and very early Monday morning, I could only stand it until about 4:30, I had to get up and out of the torturous bed. You would think that after two days of walking over six miles a day across uneven terrain, up and down hills, tripping and yes falling flat on my face that I would be so exhausted I could sleep for at least five or six hours. Not so, that bed was the most miserable experience I have had since my bilateral mastectomy a year ago. That bed may actually have been much worse than my mastectomy, at least when I was in the hospital I was given good drugs. I crawled out of bed and turned on the coffeepot, put in my contact lens and turned to look at the dogs. Both were still sacked out on the bed, neither one jumped up ready for breakfast.

I dragged out the dog food bucket and began filling each dish with dog food. At least the dogs lifted their heads to watch me, so I knew they were still alive. Both dogs just waited patiently for me to finish and bring them their dish. Not excited about food, who were these dogs? I think our dogs love food more than us sometimes. Wow these guys must really be tired. Charlie moved forward and sort of melted off the bed onto the floor to get his breakfast. I turned to Orso who looked at his dish then me then back to the dish, took a deep breath and halfheartedly stepped off the bed for his breakfast.

Each step Orso took reminded me of an old war movie where the Nazi soldiers goose stepped when marching. He would extend his right leg straight out in front of him then gently set his paw on the floor stop, lick the bottom of his paw, then repeat the process with his left leg. His right paw was especially tender and wouldn’t put much weight on it. I grabbed Mitch’s small flashlight and turned it on as I gently spread his pads apart to look for lacerations or any foreign objects stuck in his foot. The pads were fine, with no tears or cracks, but the skin between the pads were raw and inflamed from running around in the dry grasses and corn stubble fields. Orso’s nose and the bottom of his jowls were also red and raw looking. After two steps he laid down and didn’t move. Orso didn’t even look up when I put Charlie’s harness on to go out and pee. That was one pooped pup because Orso never lets me go anywhere without him.

Charlie was just as tired and showed no interest in walking very far. He quickly went about his business and turned around to go back to bed without any encouragement from me. So much for a half day of hunting, the only way Mitch and I were going to get anymore hunting in was to get new dogs. We decided to pack up, leave the hotel from hell and head home. Neither dog lifted his head all the way home.

Day 2 – The Continuing Saga of the Hotel Room from Hell

Thankfully Mitch brought soap from home so at least I could be clean and not forced to use the used bar of soap, which I threw in the trash. I finished my shower, put on my makeup and fixed my hair. Yes I know, I’m going to walk around in the field carrying a gun, tripping over roots and stepping into badger holes, maybe even get shot by a fellow hunter, but at least I have on makeup and under my hunting hat my hair had been washed. All dressed and ready to go I left Mitch to shower and get ready and walked around to the front desk to check out the free complimentary breakfast.

There were frozen waffles, prepackaged cinnamon rolls cut in half, whole wheat and white slices of bread, a couple of apples, four packets of instant oatmeal and a choice of either raisin bran or frosted flakes cold cereal. Carb city, yummy. I popped two frozen waffles in the toaster and poured a glass of orange juice for Mitch. I buttered the waffles and poured syrup over the lukewarm waffles and carried them back for Mitch. After unloading the waffles and orange juice I headed back with my own oatmeal packet from home. I searched for hot water, but no hot water was not an option. How do you make hot oatmeal without hot water? My option was to add water from the faucet and put the bowl in the microwave to heat it up. Of course the only bowl offered was Styrofoam which meant I was going to get all of those bad nasty Styrofoam chemicals transferred from the bowl to my oatmeal. I don’t know how true that is but I figure why push it.

As I turned to walk back to our room Mr. Happy came up to me to tell me that the dogs couldn’t stay in the room if we weren’t there with them. I asked what he meant and he said, “You in 112?” I said that I was, he said again, “Dogs can’t stay in room if you are gone.” I assured him that the dogs would stay with us. How much fun would we have walking around in the field searching for birds without our chief sniffers? I walked back to the room finished up breakfast, loaded up the dogs and headed out for a day of communing with nature.

I had my fingers crossed for fresh towels, clean sheets and Kleenexes, but I wasn’t holding my breath. We got out in the field about nine a.m. and had really good luck in the morning. Orso turned out to finally get it, that he was a bird dog. We called it a day about 4:30 in the afternoon and headed back to the luxurious suite of our dreams. We walked in and saw that the bed looked the same as we left it, the sheets pulled up and the comforter pulled over the pillows. The sheets hadn’t been changed. I walked into the bathroom and saw towels folded and stacked into the slots for the towels. I don’t know if they were clean or just refolded. I looked on the back of the toilet and saw a new package of soap, that wasn’t opened yet. I could just imagine how busy the housekeeping staff was with seven rooms occupied.

But guess what, still no Kleenexes. There must be a world shortage.

Orso – Who Knew?

This was our first hunting trip in two years and the first time I would carry a gun in three years. Last year we didn’t go hunting and two years ago we were hunting quail. Quail are hard for me to shoot, they fly up so fast that by the time my heart stops racing and I realize what flew up the little birds are long gone and way out of range. So I carried a camera two years ago and had much better luck capturing the moments through the lens than with a gun. Two years ago was also the last time we had AJ, our black lab, to help us search out birds. We lost him the week after we came back from that trip. Now we’re down to just two dogs, Charlie, our ten year old german shorthair/lab mix and Orso, our eight year old chocolate lab. Charlie is a good hunting dog, great nose and fast. Orso on the other hand, has preferred to walk behind us letting us beat down the path for him enjoying the outing rather than getting out there looking for birds.

Saturday morning brought clear skies bright and sunny with a fairly strong wind out of the north that felt quite biting. Our group consisted of six hunters, Mitch, me and longtime family friends that spanned four generations. The oldest in our group was eighty-nine and the youngest was fourteen, a wide range indeed. We thought that since Charlie is now ten he might be a little slower and Orso was just along for the ride. Even though Mitch is ever the optimist, saying this might just be the year that Orso gets it, I am the skeptic saying, remember we only have one dog that hunts. We started off working a long strip of tall grasses, Mitch on the outside edge on the left, me just to his right in the grass and the other four spaced out to the right across the expanse to the outside on the right to block any birds from running out and escaping unscathed. The dogs ranged back and forth between us trying to pick up that elusive wonderful scent of the pheasant.

We hadn’t gone fifty feet when Charlie stopped and went on point off to my right in front of the father, grandson combination. A pheasant flew up and caught the wind to fly across my position, the grandson fired off a round and winged the bird, I shot right after and helped bring it down, with Charlie racing hot after the downed bird to make the retrieval. After two years, nothing has changed, it doesn’t matter who shoots the bird the dogs always bring them back to me. A good omen, finding a bird so quickly.

The big surprise came about twenty five yards farther as we walked the field. Orso stopped and stood stock still with his ears cocked up and forward staring at something.

I gave the command, “Get him Orso, okay.” Nothing, Orso just stood there looking at the form in the grass. I gave him the command again, this time with more emphasis, “Okay Orso, get it up!”

Orso moved forward and the bird flew up and to the left trying to catch the wind. Three shots rang out winging the bird but no one got off a clean shot. The bird flew down the hill across the road and into the trees on the other side. Mitch ran toward the spot where the bird went down with Orso following behind him. They crossed the road and worked their way down into the draw where the bird went down. The rest of us stood where we were not moving, waiting for Mitch to resurface. Charlie even came and sat down beside me waiting, taking a rare rest break. About five minutes later I spotted Mitch coming back up out of the draw fifteen feet farther west than they went in and next to him was Orso carrying the bird. Orso had rooted the bird out hiding in the grass next to a tree, went in and grabbed the bird, just like a seasoned hunting dog. Orso trotted back up the hill straight to me bringing his prize, head held high.

After eight years Orso was finally a real live hunting dog. Miracles do happen.

The Hotel Room from Hell

Once a year maybe two if we’re lucky, we head to central Nebraska to go pheasant hunting. For the last five years we’ve stayed in a little town in central Nebraska at a national chain. The rooms have always been clean and the staff very friendly. Last year we didn’t go hunting because I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had my surgery about the time we normally go hunting. When I called to reserve our room a man answered with a very heavy accent that made conversation a struggle with a lot of repeating on both our parts. I was just hopeful that I had actually made a reservation and there would be a room for us when we got there on Friday evening. It turned out that we would have been better off if we haven’t gotten the reservation. The name had changed and was no longer a part of the chain. The man at the front desk was the same one I spoke with on the phone. In person he was not very friendly, I don’t think he ever smiled in his life. He spoke loudly and repeated everything I said. Granted I had a difficult time understanding him. I tried but I am not good at accents. He gave me the room key cards and pointed to the direction of the room.

We drove around the building found the room and started unloading. Evidently the new owners were economizing. The room was tiny with one bed, my mistake, I usually ask for two beds but having missed a year I forgot. There was a piece of cardboard taped to the wall presumably covering a hole. Spackle and paint must be very rare in this part of Nebraska. There was no in-room mini coffeepot, good thing we brought our own. The towel bar over the sink had no bar, just the two mounting brackets supporting the missing bar. The sink stopper was lying on the sink next to the sink, not in the drain for some reason. There were two bath towels, two hand towels and two wash cloths. One roll of toilet paper and no Kleenexes. There was a small refrigerator that sounded like it was on its last leg. Mitch’s favorite thing about the room was the hand written piece of paper with the new name of the hotel taped to the telephone in the room. Vary classy.

The bed was a full size bed, not queen size bed mind you, a full size. At least the television worked. I walked back to the front office and asked Mr. Happy for a roll of toilet paper and a box of Kleenexes. He handed me a roll of toilet paper and said that I had to wait for housekeeping the next day for the Kleenexes. I said that there were no Kleenexes in the room now and I wanted a box today. He said that I had to wait for housekeeping tomorrow. Customer service 101 was a class he evidently skipped. I walked back to our room toilet paper in hand and started to get ready for bed when I realized that I forgot my contact lens solution. Mitch offered up a bottle of water for me to use. Thanks but I don’t that would have worked. I jumped in the car and buzzed across the highway to the Walmart for contact lens solution and squirt cheese for the dogs to hide Charlie’s pill in. I should have bought two pillows and pillowcases, but I hadn’t seen the pillows before I left the room.

While I was gone, Mr. Happy knocked on the door of our room. It took Mitch a minute to answer thinking it was me and that I forgot my key. Anyway when Mitch finally answered the door the dogs bounded out in front of him and out the door before he could stop them. Mitch always thinks that everyone loves dogs. He looks at our dogs as big friendly dogs that love everyone, he forgets that a lot of people are apprehensive around dogs, especially large dogs. Mr. Happy was a few feet away from the door with a plunger in his hand thinking that because I asked for a roll of toilet paper I must have clogged the toilet and we were under water. He took one look at the dogs romping toward him only seeing giant brown monsters with poisonous venom dripping from three foot long fangs coming to eat him. He waved the plunger back and forth in front of him like a light saber warding off the evil creatures of darkness. Of course by waving the plunger at the dogs Charlie saw it as a threatening act causing him to bark and growl at the man. Orso just wanted to be petted by someone new and just kept moving toward the man. Mitch got them under control and shooed back into the room and turned to Mr. Happy. He asked if we needed a plunger to which Mitch politely declined.

I came back contact solution in hand and finished getting ready for bed. That’s when I realized I should have bought pillows. The bed had two pillows on it, one small pillow and one smaller pillow. The bed had a definite tilt to it. The foot of the bed was higher than the head of the bed. Sitting on the bed felt like sitting on quarter inch plywood laid over springs, not comfortable at all. To top it off, Orso was disoriented and clingy, making himself at home across the foot of the bed, shortening the length of the bed by two feet. Mitch on one side, me on the other and here comes Charlie making himself comfortable between us. A full size bed is large enough for the two of us, but add in one hundred eighty pounds of dogs and the bed gets really small very quickly. Charlie wasn’t happy with the hardness of the bed and kept squirming around flopping on my stomach. We laid there for about thirty minutes listening to the refrigerator cycle on and off. I finally couldn’t take it anymore got up and unplugged it. Between Orso at the foot of the bed, Charlie squirming around in the bed and a bed that felt like sleeping on plywood neither one of us got more than a couple of hours sleep. If I hadn’t been afraid of what disgusting things had been ground into to the carpet I would have slept on the floor.

We lasted until about 4:30 in the morning, that was all my lower back could take. I got up and noticed a puddle of water on the credenza next to the refrigerator. I looked down on the floor at the shotgun cases directly below the fridge and saw that two of the four cases were wet. Great. Neither one of us thought about the refrigerator defrosting when I unplugged it.

Mitch took the shotguns out of the cases to see how wet they were, salvaging three. One of mine, my back up shotgun took the brunt of the water. He dismantled it to dry out. I turned on the water in the shower turning the knob all the way over to the hot side in order to get the water warm enough, pulled the flow knob to shower and can only say that the best part about the shower was that the water was wet. I realized I forgot soap and reached for the bar of soap offered by the hotel. I picked up the package to unwrap it and discovered that it was already open and the bar had been used. Super disgusting.

It was going to be a long three nights. This trip was starting off a high note for sure.

One of Those Days

You hear stories all the time about the strange behavior of people and animals during a full moon. I’ve always laughed at the stories and made jokes about it. Wednesday morning it was even better, we had a full moon and a total lunar eclipse of the full moon. It’s called a Blood Moon, because of the reddish glow the moon has at the peak of the eclipse. I think the eclipse caused the lunar waves to scatter and pull the earth into mass chaos.

As usual the craziness started on the morning walk. I took my camera along with the dogs to try and capture a few shots of the start of the eclipse. Both dogs were behaving well until we topped the hill and started down. At the bottom of the hill there was a truck parked on the side of the road with a man standing in the middle of the road holding a flashlight. He had attached a large hose to the fire hydrant and had opened the water valve to the hydrant causing water to gush across the street forming a large pool of water. He had the flashlight pointed down at the water looking for something. Now I don’t know about you but trying to see things floating around in rushing water is something I’ve not mastered. Maybe he just liked looking at rushing water in the dark, or maybe he was a victim of the lunar eclipse. Anyway seeing a man in the road that time of the morning is something the dogs don’t usually see, so consequently they took exception to his presence and let him know by barking and growling letting the man know whose road it was at 4:30 in the morning.

In a rush to get back home, get showered and dressed so I could get back out and take more pictures of the eclipse as it progressed across the sky, I pretty much dragged the dogs along, leaving little time for them to pee along the way. I rushed through putting on my makeup, luckily I applied mascara to both eyes, threw some clothes on and went looking for my tripod. Of course that morning I couldn’t find it and knowing I was running out of time I grabbed my camera and went outside looking for a better vantage spot to catch more of the eclipse. By then the moon had moved across the sky and the best spot meant a trek up a gravel road in the dark, the perfect location to twist an ankle. The eclipse was almost at its peak and the moon was well on its way to a full dark reddish color. I tried but couldn’t get any good shots without the tripod to hold the camera still long enough for the shutter to fully open and close and being on a gravel road probably wouldn’t been much better even if I had the tripod. Oh well, I tromped back down the road went back in the house and realized that the clothes I put on did not look good which necessitated a wardrobe change.

I changed my clothes and went to fill my coffee thermos, pack my lunch and head out the door. Orso turned and walked into the dining room and proceeded to vomit his breakfast all over the rug, not just in one spot but two. Why couldn’t he have done that on the tile floor in the kitchen? I couldn’t get to him fast enough. I went through almost a full roll of paper towels cleaning it up, which I put in a plastic trash bag. Wednesday was trash day so I thought perfect, I’d just walk this bag down to the trash can and it won’t have to sit in the trash can for a week. I walked back in the house and washed my hands for about five minutes loaded my lunch container and walked it and my thermos to the living room with my purse so I wouldn’t forget anything when I left for work. I called Charlie and nothing, he wasn’t there. I waked from room to room with Orso in tow but no Charlie anywhere in the house. It dawned on me that he must have followed me out the front door when I took the bag of vomit and paper towels to the trash can.

Now I was late and missing one dog. I walked to the front door calling him and no Charlie. I then walked to the kitchen door and called, still no dog. I went back inside and walked to the back door and called, sure enough he came running. My first thought was that I was really glad he came back and my second thought was that we have too many doors. I got the dogs settled gave them each a rawhide chew, hoping that Orso doesn’t vomit again after I leave, grabbed my stuff and headed out the door.

It dawned on me as I drove to work that the blood moon scattered lunar pull was effecting the drivers more so than normal, I watched one driver ahead of me drift from the far left lane to the middle lane then on to the right without using a turn signal and didn’t once turn to look to see if there might be something in his path. He didn’t stop drifting until his right front tire drifted right off the road, then of course he overcorrected and almost smacked the car to his left. I just shook my head and passed him as quickly as possible so I didn’t get caught in the debris field.

After everything that had gone wrong Wednesday morning during the Blood Moon eclipse, I became a firm believer in the hold the moon has on the crazies.