Day Two Hundred Fifty Eight

Cool Air and Scary Air

Ooooh, we're having a cold snap here in Florida. It's all the way down to 61 degrees. Factor in the wind chill and that's... 61 degrees. That means Floridians have pulled their sweaters and gloves out of mothballs, while tourists from up north think it's hot. It's all a matter of perspective.

It's all the way down to 61 degrees!

In this household, the fur creatures have mixed feelings about the change in temperature. Jack and Rooney are "frisky." Sounds cute, huh? Trust me, you don't want a total of 330 Bullmastiff pounds romping through the family room.

The cats are divided. Those with lots of fur, Fancy, Eli, Finn and Chance say, "Bring it on!" Dash and Boo! aren't so sure. They go outside, because everybody else is, but they only stay out in short bursts. Boo! is grateful I have so many fuzzy robes, jackets and blankets for her to snuggle in. I don't mind one bit.

We seem to have solved the problem of Boo! escaping into the garage. Yesterday, she ran out there as the garage door was closing. Now, there is a sensor on it to stop the door if something is under it, but I can't imagine tiny Boo! even tripping the sensor. And, I didn't want to open it in case she wasn't out there and now had a clear path to the outside world! I stood there frozen, wondering for a few panicky moments if she was on the other side of the door. Dropping to my knees and peering under the car brought relief when I saw her crouching under there. I knew I could not keep repeating this scenario.

Ssscat to the rescue! I put the canister, that had saved our Christmas tree from feline invaders, in front of the door to the garage. It took a few puffs of air for her to finally realize she lost the game. It would take other creatures one puff, but she is intrepid. It also seems to have solved the problem of all the cats running into the bedroom every time we want to go in there. Yea!

It's air. Just air...

We did not celebrate, however. It seems that our massive guard dog has been brought low by a can of air. Jack refuses to go anywhere near the bedroom door which is adjacent to the garage door. Well, the Bullys sleep in our room at night. Andy had already set the alarm, and was trying to coax Jack into the room. Rooney held her breath and dove in, but Jack wasn't budging. No treats or coaxing was going to get that big old chicken to walk past the scary air can.

You people suck

Andy eventually had to turn off the alarm, take Jack out through the back door and let him into the bedroom through the patio door. Problem solved. Then. Who knows if this will be a regular routine. With Bullys it's - If it matters to them, they learn it the first time. If it matters to you it's, "Oh, sorry, were you talking to me?"