Day Three Hundred Forty Three

Nails, Knots and Nuts

People think I'm a really good animal parent. I'm okay. What they fail to see - and I'm giving away my best kept secret here - is that it's Andy who's the true responsible one. If it wasn't for him, we'd all be a flea bitten, motley crew of starving misfits with overgrown nails.
I'm serious.

He's the one who reminds me to trim nails. He's the one who wipes eyes and ears and noses. He's the one who rescues kitties from high places - even when they don't need to be rescued. He's the one who schlepped Rooney to dog shows - all over Florida. He's the one who takes her to vet appointments. And he's the one who makes the money so they can all eat. 

What got me thinking about this was the nail thing. I'm the actual nail trimmer, but he's the one who has to point out when Jack and Rooney look like Howard Hughes with nails so long it impedes their ability to walk.

Nails. I see them in my sleep. Everybody from Jack on down to Copper need a nail trim regularly. With the Bullies, it's a real drama. Well, Jack's okay but Rooney hates it and knows when I'm headed toward the place where the clippers are kept. She will jump onto the farthest sofa and tuck her feet under her massive body. It's an ordeal.

The cats are challenging, too. Eli is the easiest, probably because he was a show cat and got used to all the primping involved in that. Fancy is the hardest. I clip one nail at a time. This is because he never lets me clip more than one nail at a time. And I'm pretty sure it's the same nail...

I try to catch him when I think he's sleeping. I carefully grab the clippers, which are always close by. Then I gently lift one toe and quickly snip. His eyes fly open; pupils dilate; and I get a look that says, "I KNEW I couldn't trust you! All this talk about 'what a good kitty I am; you love me so much, blah, blah, blah' - then no sooner do I shut my eyes when you try to cut off my precious claws. Well, goodbye, I say. Goodbye! You suck." Then he jumps off, in a huff, digging his long claws into my leg.

If I had a nickel for every time Andy has said the words, "We need to remember to do this again in about a week, so the nails don't get so long," I would have forty five years worth of nickels. He has been repeating this litany with every dog since Two (our first rescue.) I want to ram the clippers up his - nose - but it's only because I know he's right and I hate that.

Whatever.

On another note - it's going to be a very lonnnnng two weeks. With our luck it will be drawn out into months. You see, we are having the pool refinished and the deck resurfaced. Putting "re" in front of anything implies it was messed up to begin with and fixing it will cost a fortune and make a huge mess in the process.

The carpeting, which has been on the porch since 1989, had to be removed. This left dried glue residue which sticks to everything now, because it was reactivated by the pressure washing. I hate life sometimes.

The cats want out. Jack and Rooney have to go out. It is a whole thing. I can't even take Jack and Rooney out front because that involves strapping them into this harness thing Responsible Andy bought, which I can't figure out. I think it's a new Boy Scout badge now - "Mastered the Dog Harness Thing - Which is Something Only Manly Men who Understand Knots and Such Can Do."



yep, that's about right...

I. am. not, exaggerating. It goes over and under and through something and by the time you get done the dog has gone ahead and pooped on the floor. That, or one of you is all tied up in a big ropey mess, the likes of which only Houdini could escape.

Boo! spent most of yesterday trying to repent for her sins. Those sins involved terrorizing the lizard and by repenting I mean sucking up to me. It wasn't only the lizard issue - I mean she is a cat and Copper definitely looks like prey - but she is the ONLY cat who screws with the aquarium and has mastered the art of getting into it. Hot lights, heavy screen, Ssscat cans on each side - nothing can stop her from her goal, which is to catch that lizard.

She knows I don't want her to mess with Copper. She knows all of the things I prefer she not do. But Boo! is Boo!  Needs must.

Every once in awhile she takes stock though and decides I must be mollified. Her foolproof way of accomplishing this is by jumping onto my lap and smothering me with kisses. Then, because she needs to get as close as possible to drive home her point, she climbs into my shirt. I have proof...

 

 

Some people listen to soothing music or nature sounds all day. I get to listen to the buzzing, whirring, grinding sounds of people trying to control nature. It's oak leaf drop time - aka the FALL up north. Here in Florida, where politics, education and environmental concerns are back-asswards - oak leaves fall in the spring.

Well, in Stepford - uh I mean, our neighborhood - it is a crime apparently. It was even newsletter-worthy. "Leaves must be raked and bagged - and never, ever let so much as one leaf go down the the storm drain. In other news, we spent almost $200,000 of your dues on improvements to a street that isn't even in your neighborhood. Why? Because we can! Suckers..."

The guy across the street has taken the edict very seriously. Hey, he likes to golf and doesn't think there's a decent course in the county lock-up. He blows those infernal leaves to kingdom come about four times a day. There are no leaves anywhere near his property because he BLOWS THEM ONTO EVERYONE ELSE'S!!!! Now, I do not care about the leaves or the damn rules - I hate leaf blowers and the huge gizmos they employ. NOISE!!!

I think one of these days, I am going to turn on our loud air compressor and leave it on the back porch. I will then go to the library and read a novel. But with my luck, it will be on lawn maintenance day....

I leave you with these:

Day Three Hundred Forty Two

Don't Mistreat Animals on My Watch!

I'm more than a little perturbed right now, and I shouldn't write when I am, but the day is getting away from me. I wrote about this on Facebook, but I'm putting it here as well.

What makes some people delight in torturing creatures? Every living thing deserves respect. And every living thing serves a purpose. I doubt the author of the grand design threw in a few species for the express purpose of filling blood lust or perverse amusement. But people being base and stupid have interpreted it as such.

There's a pressure washing person here today. That he was supposed to be here on Monday notwithstanding, he is here today. I was eating my lunch when I happened to look out and see him pointing his pressure hose at something on the porch. That something was alive and trying valiantly to get away from the harsh stream of water. I focused on it and realized it was a tiny toad. I jumped up and ran to the back door and started pounding on the window; motioning for him to stop!

He turned off the machine and looked at me with a quizzical expression, as I ran out the door and scooped up the poor, terrified creature. When I relocated him to a safer spot, I walked back to see the man laughing. He thought it was funny.

I asked him to please come get me if he finds any other live creatures and is afraid to pick them up. I'm more than happy to do it. He stopped laughing then when his "manhood" was challenged.

What is wrong with people??? I mean, what causes the disconnect between our inherent desire to protect and the need for some to destroy or torture? That little toad was no match for him and his super hose. I don't know why I ask this question when people do awful things every day.

But, you know what, for every evil person who delights in harming something weaker or smaller than himself, there is another who rescues and nurtures. Screw you if you don't have a conscience. Just don't let me see you do your nasty thing.

No wait!  I'm glad I saw his meanness because he got to see the right way to treat even the smallest creature. Yes - let me show you the way it should be done, cretin....

 

 

 

 

My darling, little, bad, baby cat (henceforth known as DLBBC) has been trying to get back into my good graces. She was never out of them, but I don't tell her that. She has been smothering me with love and kisses and crawled into the back of my shirt again. This time she went down the sleeve and stuck her nose out of the end of it.

 

How could anyone be upset with
something this cute? I ask you - how?

 

 













Day Three Hundred Forty One

My Hidden Talents

 

Boo! has helped me to uncover many hidden talents. For one, I have become pretty good at deciphering sounds. An example would be: what sounds like metal screening being ripped is most likely metal screening being ripped!  That is never good.

 

I got to worrying that maybe the decorative screen on top of Copper's cage was preventing the required amount of heat and light to get through to her. In all honesty, it was my daughter who made this observation and I have been fretting over it ever since.

 

No, Copper is not bleeding or
trying out a new shade of lipstick.
She is eating strawberries.

 

Of course, no sooner did I remove the cat-proof screen when Miss Boo! made the discovery and ripped the snot out of it by peeling it back. She was halfway into the cage when I caught her.

 

This is steel mesh! Steel. Mesh.

 

Ssscat cans activated. That led me to another one of my newfound talents: learning how to navigate around the Ssscat cans so as not to set them off; allowing my heart to continue beating in a normal rhythm.

 

The damn can got me a good one last night. I was trying to catch what was arguably the loudest cricket in the history of crickets (there must be a correlation between loudness and stealth, because Copper always seems to miss those) when my arm set off the Ssscat sensor and a burst of air shot out at me.

 

Involuntarily, my arm took on a life of its own and jerked into a position I try very hard not to put it in. Blinding pain shot up my arm. 

On an aside - How would I ever explain to an ER doctor how I acquire some of my injuries? This is why I stay home and suffer.

 

The other night, as I was carrying Boo! away from some mischief she had gotten herself into, Andy looked up and said, "She just looks bad. She used to look cute, but now she just looks like trouble." He's right. She is thriving on this mischief-making quest she is on. Which leads me to my last hidden talent...

 

 

Unconditional love. Of all the things I've experienced in life, that could cause anyone to lose their religion, who would have thought a tiny four pound cat would be the one to teach me about patience and unconditional love.

 

She is extremely ornery. I'm talking, has that look in her eyes that says, "I'm here world - show me whacha got!" She even makes another Aby, Dash, look calm and sedate. Why, she makes the Ragdolls look like fluffy bedroom slippers.

 

I honestly believe the universe is trying  to teach us lessons. I also think it delights in tossing banana peels in our path. If that's true, I am giving something - God, an angel, a spirit guide, my dead mother - plenty of side-splitting moments. Hey, I'm good with that....

 

 

 

 

Day Three Hundred Forty

Easter Monday

We survived another holiday with Abys. Living with any cat is like having a toddler around 24/7. Living with an Abyssinian cat is like that same toddler on sugar and caffeine. Living with six cats - two of which are Abys - during any holiday or special event is like - well you may as well just take all of your decorations and toss them into the trash. That will save you a step - which is cleaning them up once they've been broken, torn or otherwise destroyed. I have a tablecloth and several broken decorations to prove my point.

Don't be misled - Eli is not the guilty party here.
That bump to his right is none other than our Boo!

Yesterday was so much fun. That it took two of us several days to prepare, when I used to be able to pull something like that off myself, made for some hilarious moments. Not funny at the time, mind you, but chuckle-worthy in hindsight. Take the Easter Egg Hunt. It took the two of us something like five hours to put together a simple treasure hunt. Not to mention the fact we nearly killed each other in the process. But it was a success.

The kids arrived around one, and they immediately started looking for eggs. It must be a throwback to our caveman days that we get so excited to find things. I guess there was a time when finding an actual egg was a really big deal.

Anyway, we had to corral them to give the instructions for the new hunt. Each was assigned a color and they had to find the egg of that color which contained a slip of paper with directions to the next egg, and so on. The last egg contained the clue to finding their Easter basket.

Like I wrote before, each basket contained a lot of fruit (some candy I confess.) I was shocked to see them eating the fruit before the candy! All-in-all, it was a success.

However, my "fun" started way before their arrival, with trying to prepare everything while living with Abys. Dash wasn't too bad but Boo! surpassed her old record of orneriness. Somehow I thought she would slow down a bit after her surgery. No, not Boo! She is a super-charged Aby now. She got into so much trouble I'm not sure where to start...

Well, there was the paper shopping bag episode. I had two brown paper bags in the bedroom where I had emptied their contents into Easter baskets. I was focused on other things, but I remembered seeing one of the bags roll off the bed. Prior to having cats, this would have given me pause, but now I'm used to cats' obsession with bags and boxes. When I went to pick up the bag I noticed it was torn so I tossed it and continued on with trying to fill Easter baskets with the "help" of several curious kitties.

Awhile later, I noticed something strange happening on the back porch. Five cats were in a circle staring intently at something in the middle of the circle. That something was Boo! who was scrunched down like she was cold. I blinked a few times and saw what was really happening.

She was frozen in place because, wrapped around her tummy, was the handle of the shopping bag. I guess she got caught up in it and took off; hoping to get away from the monster that captured her, only to find it had a good grip on her. I had to snap a few pictures before I removed the handle. Who would believe the stuff I tell them otherwise?

Last evening, after everything was done, we sat down to rest awhile. That was a foolish notion because, since the cats had been confined to the front bedroom all day, for their safety, (I can't tell you how many times folks go in or out of my front door and leave it open) and it was like monkeys had been left out of cages for the first time in ten years. Boo! and Dash were maniacs chasing each other around the house; knocking things out of their way while doing so.

Then, Boo! discovered the brand new plastic tablecloth in the dining room. She proceeded to destroy it like it was a serial killer in disguise that was going to get us while we slept. She had a ball shredding it and rolling in it. At one point Eli made a point of making eye contact with me so I knew he was not responsible for the damage.

He didn't need to worry because, these days, I rarely suspect anyone else when something goes bang, crack, splat, crash, kaboom or pow.

Day Three Hundred Thirty Nine

Happy Easter!

 

 

 

Jack and Rooney want to wish you a Happy Easter -

and to remind you to love each other!!!

Day Three Hundred Thirty Eight

Not So Good Saturday

It's been quite a day. First of all, I hit the floor running this morning. I really wanted to avoid traffic as much as possible, so I grabbed my coffee and ran. Andy was left with the task of getting the instructions printed for the First Annual Easter Egg Basket Hunt.

To come up with an alternative to filling eggs with candy for the Easter Egg Hunt, Andy and I put our heads together and came up with a sort of treasure (egg) hunt. However, it appears as though our two heads together do not make one viable brain - so we managed to turn a simple kid game into a major project. It really should be patented as an exercise in geriatric cognitive capability. 

To save time, Andy typed out the instructions. He was going to print them out so we could put a legible clue into each egg. Five hours later, after the printer refused to work and appeared to need ink; Boo! stepped on his computer and hit just the right buttons to make the screen go upside down and I added Office Depot to my list of errands - he was finally able to print out the list of instructions.

Monks took less time hand writing the Bible. Oh, and because he is a consummate button pusher, we ended up with about fifty copies of the instructions. If at first it doesn't print - hit that button again, and again, and again...

So, we had the instructions ready to put into the eggs, but the next snag presented itself when we were too stupid to figure out the logistics of the thing. No, seriously, you would have thought we were solving a puzzle, upon which lies the fate of the Earth. We came close to throwing eggs at each other, but both of us were too tired to make the effort. I just imagined lobbing them at him. I'm sure his fantasy involved hitting me with real eggs - hardboiled.

My list of errands included the grocery store, Whole Foods and Petco for crickets. I was careful to schedule the cricket purchase last. I did not want a repeat of the great cricket massacre. Despite my timing, I was still shocked to discover one of the three bags containing the crickets was rapidly losing air.

I had one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding onto the deflating bag, all the while wondering if I should be blowing air into it as my car swerved like I was drunk. I decided it would be grounds for arrest if I tried to explain to the police officer why my car ended up in the middle of Chili's. I'm sorry, Officer, but my crickets were suffocating.

As soon as I pulled into the driveway, I left the car running (and thankfully in park) as I ran into the house to dump the crickets into their box. The problem was, I had left the thing soaking in soapy water. I quickly dumped the water; shook it dry then deposited the little creatures. Thankfully they were alive and I did not have to perform cricket CPR.

Somehow we managed to get most of the stuff done for tomorrow. These day it seems like it's harder to pull off even the most basic activities. I can say, the animals are no help whatsoever.

I mentioned Boo! discombobulating Andy's computer. She inspected every purchase that came through the door. And, just a little while ago, as I was putting something into the credenza, I went to close the drawer and heard an ear piercing scream. Boo's little foot was caught in it. I yanked it open, she ran away and would not let me look at it. I felt awful. I spend so much time trying to save her from herself and protect her from danger, then I go ahead and smash her tiny foot.

It's raining now and I'm calling it a day. It's 6:45 p.m. and I'm ready for bed. I hope you all have a wonderful Easter! Remember those fur babies can't eat chocolate!!

Day Three Hundred Thirty Seven

Good Friday - I Hope

Today is Good Friday, the day when Christians recognize the crucifixion of Jesus. I remember when I was a little girl, everything went quiet between Noon and 3 p.m. I mean everything. Stores closed; you weren't allowed to talk (my mother enforced that no talking thing like the fate of Christianity rested on it) and most Catholics spent that time in church. I don't know if Baptists and Methodists did that, too, since I was a little girl with limited knowledge. 

The other thing I remember was getting an "Easter outfit." Mine usually included new stuff from head to toe. That meant a hat, dress, gloves, new shoes and a purse. The hat was essential.

I hated those damn hats with a passion because, for little girls, they came with a nasty old rubber band that went around your jaw so the hat didn't fall off or fly away. I personally think it was there to torture us into submission. I mean, none of the boys' hats had to be strapped down, and they were the ones more likely to need that. Then again, they had to wear those neck-choking bow ties....

Not me, just another girl child who
was tortured to look cute.....

Oh, and the other form of torture was the crinoline petticoat that made your dress poof out. That thing was so scratchy and mean, it felt like barbwire. There is no way a little girl could misbehave - between the noose around her neck, gloves that left picking things up virtually impossible and that damn petticoat which was pure evil.

I surely hope I wasn't the only little girl who went through this. It would have been just like my mother to tell me it was what everyone was doing, as she tightened the hat band and made sure the crinoline was made out of fiberglass.

Oh, for crying out loud! - I Googled Girls' Easter bonnets from the 1950's - and lo and behold - most of them were secured with a soft ribbon!!!! My mother chose the ones with a tight rubber band that cut off the circulation to my brain! I looked like Panic Pete!

 

 

Yes, we sure don't do things the way we did in the old days. Maybe if we brought back some of those implements of torture, kids would behave better. Either that or there will be yet another generation in therapy till they're dead.

 



It's early yet, so not much has happened in the way of creature events. There was a little episode between Dash and a toad. It was a small toad but looked pretty nasty. Fancy was watching Dash bat it around, but he kept his distance. It was as though he was trying to warn him - "Dude - don't bite that thing! They taste awful."

 

Of course, Dash had to taste it and, sure enough, it must have been gnarly because he made a face and shook his head. I rescued Dash and the toad by removing it. Then I had to catch Dash so I could wipe off his mouth. He did not believe me when I kept insisting I was only trying to help him. As the wise and the old, Fancy and I are constantly ignored.....

Day Three Hundred Thirty Six

Boo! and the Big Adventure

Once upon a time, there was a tiny cat named, Boo! She only weighed four pounds but she had a BIG personality. Boo! and her brother, Dash, got into a lot of mischief.

One night, Boo! was bored, so she decided to investigate the shelves around the big box her humans always sat and stared at. The box had pictures that moved but nothing ever came out of the box. She didn't understand why they stared at it. But they did - a lot.

Boo! easily jumped up to the middle shelf, where she found something that looked like her bunny, Roxy. It just sat there, though. Boo! sometimes got confused when her human Mom put stuff out that she wasn't supposed to touch. And if it fell off the shelf and made a great crash, Boo! went running because it seemed to make Mom grumbly.

From the shelf, it was a short hop to the top of the big box. It was fun pretending she was on a big adventure, walking across the slippery, narrow box. When she got across it, it was another quick hop to the highest shelf in the whole house. Up there, she could see forever. And there was another big box which was perfect to hide behind. Boo! felt like she was on top of the world.

Mom and Dad seemed kind of worried, though. She heard it in Mom's voice when she asked Dad how high it was and did he think Boo! would try to jump down from there. Dad got up and got the thing they climb on when Boo! gets up high and they get scared. It makes them taller. But Dad wasn't tall enough to reach Boo! She thought it was funny.

Then she heard Mom say she was going to do something that would get her down and Dad needed to be ready to catch her. Boo! wondered what they were up to. As she peeked around the big box they call "speakers," she could see Mom go to another big box in the kitchen. She didn't know what it was called but it has food in it and that's where the ice cubes, she and Dash like, come from. They know when the ice is coming out because it makes a big, scary, crunchy sound.

Sure enough, Mom was getting ice for them! Boo! took a short cut and went across the black box again, then onto a shelf and the new thing around the place where there is sometimes fire. It was no big deal.

Boo! heard Dad say it wasn't the first time Boo! had done that. Mom and Dad didn't know it, but she's been doing this while they sleep. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!

Boo! got some ice, and played awhile, but then Mom picked her up and gave her lots of kisses and told her it was time for bed. She heard Mom say, "I would like to watch my show without worrying you're going to kill yourself, Baby Cat. See you in the morning."

Dash was already in there, waiting for her. The two of them made plans for their next big adventure. It was gonna be a good one....

 

 

 

 

Day Three Hundred Thirty Five

Be Careful What You Laugh At

I know, I know  - the grammatically correct title is: "Be Careful About Which You Laugh." But, give me a break - who talks that way? Certainly no one who reads my blog....

So, a few short years ago, a friend and I were yukking it up over a mutual friend who was about a decade older than the two of us. Every time we invited this friend to lunch or whatever, she would ponder it for awhile then give her answer. Whether she said yes or no was determined by if she had anything else going on - that week. Not that day - which might be understandable - but that week.

If, for example, she had a doctor's appointment on - say a Tuesday - she couldn't go to lunch on Monday because then she would be too tired to leave the house on Tuesday. And the rest of the week was shot because - well - she had that appointment on Tuesday and you know how draining a doctor visit can be. She was seeing the doctor for a leg injury she acquired ten years prior. It was long since healed, but you can't be too careful.

So here I am, a decade later, and it seems I have morphed into my older friend. Here are my excuses to avoid any extra activity:

1) I have a doctor's appointment on Wednesday (not mine, but Rooney's, mind you) and I shouldn't do anything the rest of the week.
2) The kids will be here for Easter, so I need to rest up three days in advance.
3) No, next week isn't good either, because the kids will be here for Easter, and I have to rest up at least three days after.
4) I really shouldn't leave the house anyway because of all the animals. No - there's no one who could take care of them the way I do....

In the blink of an eye, I have become the old woman who doesn't (leave the house, get dressed, wear makeup, comb her hair, do lunch, etc.) I used to be the young woman who did 500 things per day. I could work full time, grocery shop, cook, clean, chauffeur kids around, attend meetings and put pantyhose on without dislocating my shoulder...

Heavy sigh....

Last night while we were watching TV, I heard what sounded like the tinkling of glass. It was an odd sound and certainly not something one wants to hear. It took awhile but I found the source. Of course it was Boo! She was on the top shelf of the china cabinet where I have my glass domed anniversary clock sitting next to the graduation pictures of my kids in glass frames. A few seconds later and I would have been sweeping up glass off the tile; squinting through my tears.

I don't know what possesses her to do the things she does, but she is the reason I still have some functioning brain cells. I must constantly be solving a Boo! challenge. Take that, Lumosity...

You know you're a crazy animal parent when you try to calculate how to keep them safe while you have company. Right? Open doors can mean cats on the loose. Edibles that are okay for humans can be lethal to a pet. Well, that got me thinking about Easter baskets.

In years past, I have filled baskets and plastic eggs with all sorts of treats. Then, I started to worry about the fur kids. Last Easter, despite asking the kids to please not drop their candy where the dogs or cats can get it, I was finding dusty jelly beans and shriveled up gummy bears inside the couch and under various places for months afterwards. I shudder to think what the fur kids found that I missed.

And, it seems like practically everything is dangerous for pets! Cats should not get into Easter basket grass. It can kill them. Chocolate is bad for cats and dogs. Foil can mess up their digestive tract. Xylitol, an additive in some gummy candies, is toxic to dogs and cats. Lilies are poisonous to cats and dogs. Even the traditional Easter ham is not good for them. So, what's left?

Well, I'll tell you. The munchkins coming here on Sunday are in for a very different Easter experience this year. No more jelly beans, gummy bears, chocolate foil eggs or marshmallow chicks to be strewn about and later found by a dog or cat. No sir. This year, I'm filling the eggs with carrot sticks and broccoli; the baskets with fruit. I'm kidding. About the carrots and broccoli. I am, however, doing grape free fruit baskets! I'm guessing Easter 2017 will be held at a different venue than Pap and Gigi's.




The following foods may be dangerous to your pet

• Alcoholic beverages 
• Apple seeds 
• Apricot pits 
• Avocados
• Cherry pits
• Candy (particularly chocolate—which is toxic to dogs, cats, and ferrets—and any candy containing the toxic sweetener Xylitol) 
• Coffee (grounds, beans, and chocolate-covered espresso beans)
• Garlic
• Grapes 
• Gum (can cause blockages and sugar free gums may contain the toxic sweetener Xylitol)
• Hops (used in home beer brewing) 
• Macadamia nuts 
• Moldy foods 
• Mushroom plants 
• Mustard seeds 
• Onions and onion powder 
• Peach pits 
• Potato leaves and stems (green parts) 
• Raisins 
• Rhubarb leaves 
• Salt 
• Tea (because it contains caffeine) 
• Tomato leaves and stems (green parts) 
• Walnuts 
• Xylitol (artificial sweetener that is toxic to pets)
• Yeast dough

This information was compiled from various sources.

Day Three Hundred Thirty Four

Lesson Du Jour

I don't know how many of you are aware of the 11:11 phenomenon - it's more like an effect actually - but some believe, if you see the numbers 11:11 on a regular basis, it is the universe trying to communicate with you. Some think it's their guardian angel or spirit guide.

Also, you're supposed to quiet your mind so perhaps the angel or guide can get their message across. Fat chance of that with me. My mind is so noisy I barely get the messages to myself across.

Now, you can't be staring at the clock waiting for 11:11. It doesn't count then. You have to be caught off guard. I will say it surprises me every time. Oh, and the numbers can appear to you in other forms like - well - anywhere you see numbers.

I'm not really into mysticism or the paranormal. I like to keep an open mind, but I can't say I go out of my way to seek Nirvana. I can't cross my eyes, looking for my third eye, without getting a bad case of vertigo. And, to be honest, what I see with two eyes is sometimes overwhelming. Throwing in another one seems like overkill.

And if I try to meditate, all I can think of is what I need to get from the grocery store, or how much that smudge on the window bugs me. But I admire people who have attained a certain level of awareness. They are my heroes.

To be honest, I see 11:11 so often, I think somebody's trying to tell me something! Perhaps I need to stop asking the universe to clue me in on the meaning of it all. I've been asking that since I was a little kid and, so far, I haven't gotten an answer. Maybe I have but I've been too noisy to hear it!

I can envision my poor guardian angel up there shaking her head and telling another angel, "What did I do to get this clown? She's a mess! She won't shut up long enough for me to tell her anything. Then when it happens, she's like, 'Gee, I didn't see that coming.' No shit, Sherlock." In my mind, angels swear, too.

I just diddly bop through life taking each moment as it comes. The animals have helped me with that. They live in the moment. Life is a series of events for them. Playing is done with intention. Eating, the same. And napping. It's amazing, but they all do whatever it is they're doing with purpose and intention. Even Copper.

My intention is to hit you in the
head with this thing.

I am sleeping. Please go away.

Rest time.

 

Copper, being a creature from a hot climate, needs to have warming lights on every day. They are on a timer, so the UVB and UVA lights come on at 7 a.m. and go off at 7 p.m. Well, just like clockwork, when those lights come on, she is up and at it. Then Bam!, when the lights go off, it is like somebody hit her off switch and she goes instantly to sleep. I find that incredible. She lives in the moment.

The cats do, too. If you really want to mess with a cat, trying getting it to play with you when it's their nap time. You become persona non grata. I threw everybody into a dither last night. Andy was snoring and, even though I was whapping him with a pillow, it only got louder. So, at about 3 a.m. I went out to the family room and turned on the TV.

One by one the cats came over to inspect me. As in, nose to nose, "What are you doing up at this hour?" inquiry. Some stayed away; others curled up with me on the recliner. It was funny, but I was thinking about Fancy when I felt a cold nose bump my foot. There he was asking me if I was okay.

I was still awake at 6 a.m. when Andy's alarm went off. Of course, they all decided it was time to eat. Technically, my day began at 3 a.m.

Oh! I've had an epiphany! My clever, and weary, angel finally decided how to get through to me! She's using animals as my teachers now! Clever angel! She can go get a beer now (I prefer earthiness in the divine) put her feet up and let the critters do the work for her. Whatever works....

Day Three Hundred Thirty Three

How Finn Saved the Day

I have written about Finn jumping up to my desk to keep me company while I'm writing. I have also mentioned how truly annoying this is because, while he is on the desk, he grooms himself which causes the whole desk to shake.

This has happened twice lately. Both times, it has caused me to pause and rethink what I have written. And, both times I have scrapped my idea. I think Finny is my bellwether. Either that or he's trying to tell me he has fleas.

So, now you're curious as to what I had written. Relax. It was just the ramblings of an old lady who is still trying to figure out the meaning of life. 

In a recent post I mentioned having a moral dilemma about the treatment of the crickets I buy to feed to Copper. A friend made the comment he "wondered how long it would take till the crickets captured (my) heart." That's when it hit me! I am supposed to feel love for even the lowliest of creatures. Especially the lowliest because few else will. You see, there are people out there who know you better than you know yourself.

So, there I was, having this revelation about crickets when it occurred to me I am a more authentic person being a servant to the lowliest of creatures. They simply cannot give you praise or reward. Well, dogs can. They make it too easy to give unconditional love. They are the poster kids for it. A cat, however, will humble you real fast. Even Boo!, who slobbers all over me can be loving on me one second and gone the next. She checks in with me all day but never stays too long.

It's not a weakness to feel love for all living things. Yes, the Bible tells us to have dominion over all the Earth, but I think God misspoke. Far be it for me to correct God, but I think he should have used the word, "stewardship." Dominion implies ruling over; stewardship means taking care of. Oh, come on, I'm messing with you. To my Bible purist friends, I'm just playing. To my linguistified friends, lighten up. To God, sorry, but you know I'm right.

Dear Patti, In case you haven't noticed,
I am God and you aren't. But thanks anyway.

So, here I am, still a work in progress. I will unabashedly care for the crickets and other tiny creatures in my purview. Because it's the right thing to do. We humans, who think we're so advanced and superior, have no clue as to the extent of the feelings and intricacies of other species. Hey, just because you can step on it doesn't mean you should. Look up and down and realize it's all part of God's plan. And it's a good one.

You're welcome, God.






















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Day Three Hundred Thirty Two

Driving Mr. Daisy

If someone had told me ten years ago, all of the things I would be doing after leaving a nearly twenty year career, I wouldn't have believed them. For example, I never dreamed I would have a horse in my life. I always wanted a horse, it just never worked out. That was until my friends rescued eleven of them and one in particular stole my heart (and bank account!)

If someone had told me I would be living with one cat, let alone six of them, I would have said they were out of their mind. And here I am with a lizard of all things. And Bullmastiffs with the combined weight of 330 pounds! I wouldn't trade any of it.

(I'm sorry, but I have to say this - I am sitting at my computer in the living room, in front of the window. I can see across the street. My neighbor is walking around inspecting his property, wearing a huge straw hat. He looks like a beekeeper or Driving Miss Daisy! This is the same guy who had most of the branches pruned from a beautiful live oak and now it looks like a giant cosmic hand stuck a twig in the ground. You need binoculars to find any leaves.)

Now this dude looks cool in a straw hat!

Where was I? Oh, yea, my life. Most of it is fun. I'm not keen on cleaning up the dog poop from the yard. Or Copper's poo which smells like hell left a big fart. Then there are the hairballs. At least they don't smell bad. They are a little off-putting when you step on one in the dark. But today I did a task I never anticipated in my wildest dreams. I cleaned out the nasty, stinky cricket keeper - with an abundance of crickets still in it.

It was tricky, I'll have you know. First, I had to find something to put the little buggers in. Then I had to find something to cover that. Then I had to figure out how to relocate the things while I cleaned the cage.

As luck would have it, I found a bin and a cutting board I was no longer using. For some reason, crickets are sold with pieces of egg carton in with them. I guess the egg cartons do something, I just don't know what.* Anyway, many crickets were hanging on the egg cartons, so I just picked them up and plopped them in the bin. (Are you still with me or did I lose you?)

The crickets who weren't attached to a piece of egg carton were unceremoniously dumped into the bin. I was surprised to find that most of the gunk stuck to the bottom of the cage. That made it much easier to clean. I only had one escapee, which I easily caught with the tweezers.

(I wonder why that guy's wife doesn't tell him he looks like an idiot! Maybe she's mad at him...)

I was so proud of myself when I was able to get the crickets back into a nice, clean keeper. On a daily basis I am reminded how very different my life is now. I went from caring for humans in need to scrubbing bug guts and poop out of a plastic bin. I'll let you in on a little secret - I would rather scoop horse, dog, cat, rabbit, lizard and cricket poop any day than go back to my old life for one moment. Any. day. Can I get an AMEN!

*Well, now I feel bad. I Googled Why do crickets need egg cartons? and this is what I learned:
Crickets are actually solitary creatures. The egg cartons provide them with a bit of privacy.
Crickets like to hide and the compartments of the egg cartons provide them with hiding places.
Crickets need fiber and the cardboard in egg cartons is a safe form of fiber for them.
They also lay their eggs in the cardboard.
Apparently, I did not crack the code on the ease of moving them, since they pretty much stay on the egg cartons. It is a well known fact.

I now feel awful. These little creatures that prefer privacy are being forced to live in a plastic box with dozens of others because I don't want to drive to the pet store every other day. I have been trying to detach myself from feeling bad for the poor things and now I really feel terrible. Copper - you are going to be a vegan beardie. Can you handle that?