I broke my dog yesterday. It all started when my son posted that he was going to be on the air in one minute (little has changed in twenty five years with Mr. "I need a German dish, Lederhosen and a report on Germany by tomorrow morning...") doing an interview at a radio station in Ocala, FL. I jumped up and ran to turn on the radio in the family room. You would have thought I was trying to dial in Radio Free Europe during the War - it was that impossible to find the station. I tried everything, including turning the volume all the way up, just in case. It was forgetting that small detail which led to my blowing out the speakers and ruining my poor dog. When I finally landed on a viable station, two things happened. 1) There was an ear splitting blast of sound accompanied by a loud pop then a screech and a crack and 2) Jack lost his hearing and his mind.
I was too busy still attempting to find the station, as well as trying to recover my own hearing, to realize Jack was upset. It never occurred to me that, if my ears were ringing, imagine how his felt. The next thing I heard was Jack crashing through the door into the bedroom. Jack reserves that trick for when he is seriously trying to escape from something. He is a 175 pound Bullmastiff, the sight of which causes even the oldest, slowest neighborhood dogs to fly past our house on their walks, but can be the biggest baby when it comes to certain things. I guess having his eardrums blown out can be added to the list.
There I was, still trying to catch my kid on the radio, with Jack refusing to leave my bedroom closet. Of course, Rooney was sound asleep through this whole drama but the cats were thoroughly enjoying Jack's misery. They kept looking at him, then me, to determine whether or not they should panic, too, or just laugh while he did. He wasn't just upset, though. He was panting, drooling, farting, shaking and just all around losing his sh- -tuff. All I wanted to do was hear my son on the radio...
It took over an hour for Jack to recover. Bless his heart, he stayed near me just in case that horrible sound was accompanied by a demon or the UPS guy. I later discovered the blast actually dislodged soot from the fireplace flue! I learned that by investigating why the cats were fixated on the fireplace all of a sudden. Like I've said many times, there is no lack of drama in my life, whether I want it there or not.
Speaking of which, I caught the coffee pot trickster in action. Last night, while I was giving the cats their evening snack, Chance wanted to get closer to investigate so he climbed onto his favorite perch - the coffee pot. The power button is on top, so of course, he turned it off. Another mystery solved.
We're still working on the litter box conundrum. I had a brainstorm while looking at pictures from when Finn and Chance were still babies at the cattery. I saw one where baby Finn is sitting in a giant litter box. I bought a replica of that litter box, thinking it might trigger a memory of when they learned how to use one. Well, Chance did use it. While I was watching. Five minutes later, I saw him jumping over the gate and went to see if he used it again. Nope. He pooped on the floor next to the box. Grrr. It's all good. He is my special needs kitty and I will love him no matter what.
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| Baby Finn |
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| What? |
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| I'm glad you put this here for me |
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