In a recent blog I wrote that the recently purchased crickets were "dead as doornails." I wondered about the origin of that expression and this is what I found:
In A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens wrote about the questionable phrase, “dead as a doornail,” saying:
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.Apparently, there is no question whatsoever as to whether or not a doornail is dead. It is, in fact, the deadest thing on Earth. And it was never otherwise.
Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Well, now that we cleared that up, I shall try to be funny yet profound; pithy yet descriptive. Who am I kidding? I write what comes into my head and you get what you get. Some days are better than others on the humor scale.
Update on Boo! -
I actually feared Boo! would have a personality change after her surgery. I don't know - I mean she didn't have a lobotomy. I guess I just need to worry. It's in my DNA. Anyway, I did not have to be concerned about that. As a matter of fact, the surgery seemed to enhance her personality. It's like she started at mischievous, then went on behavior steroids which took her all the way to maniac.
The surgery did not slow her down one bit. Last night was her first in several where she was granted her freedom. I was afraid she would pop a stitch if she was left unattended. As it turns out, there is a mysterious bald spot on the top of her head. I think she hurt herself when she tore apart the aquarium lid. Andy thinks she pissed somebody off when we weren't looking and they bopped her a good one. She can do that. Piss off the Pope I mean.
I, however, cannot get mad at her. When she zooms into the bedroom in the morning and showers with me with kisses and snuggles, I would let her get away with just about anything. She is so freaking cute and lovable, I have a tendency to overlook her indiscretions, like helping herself to Andy's scrambled eggs while he was busy elsewhere. Or, standing on top of the terrarium and scaring the poop (literally) out of Copper. Or knocking all of the papers off my desk. She is spoiled. I am guilty.
Update on others -
In this house, Andy spoils Rooney and I spoil everybody else. The thing is, it's some more than others, based on their approach. Take Fancy, for example. He knows how to sit on or near me without hurting me. He will even use his teeth and claws to get his point across but, for some reason, it never hurts.
Eli, on the other hand, does nothing but hurt me! Andy has even threatened to take matters into his own hands when he sees what that cat does to me. He'll say, "Why do you put up with that?" as Eli grinds his paws into the most sensitive parts of me - those pressure points Fibromyalgia victims have that send you into orbit when pressed. There are times I am reduced to tears.
But here's the thing - Eli was here first. I honestly thought, and told him, I would have one cat and one only. Here I am with six cats, trying to lure a seventh into the fold, while Eli uses all he has to punish me for breaking my promise. Someone would look at it and say, "Get over it cat and knock it off, you're hurting me." I tend to take my punishment as just.
Update on Copper -
Copper is loving her new digs. She has it made. I even bought long tweezers to hand feed her crickets. I don't know why I bought them, but I saw them in the pet store and figured it's what you do. Shoot, if they sold clothes for Beardies, I'd probably buy them just because it was the thing to do. Even she looked at the cricket dangling from the tweezers, then at me like, "What the hell am I supposed to do?" She just shrugged and grabbed it like, "Whatever." Spoiled. So now, she looks to me to hand feed her crickets...
Update on Dash -
I haven't been writing much about Dash because, since his sister's arrival, he has been a model citizen. Truth be told, he spends most of his time following her around and keeping her out of trouble. It is a thankless job. He did get her a good one last evening.
Dash loves to play Tag. Well the two of them were in the front bedroom, doing God knows what, when he came running out by himself. He then hid around the corner; in front of the fireplace. Boo! came strolling out, looking for him and he jumped out at her, scaring her witless. She launched about two feet into the air, then ran back into the bedroom with Dash hot on her heels. It takes an Aby to know one.
There is never a dull moment here. If there is, you can bet somebody is up to no good. And I love every one of those moments. The bottom line is, I may be crazy, but I am a happy crazy!
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