Posted on May 01, 2009 by: WayCoolDogs

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Well, its been a looooong week and its been more than my kind of crazy. Full moon or something which plays havoc with us dogs. I don’t know! But it has affected everyone at this place, so obviously humans are affected also (at least two little old ladies that I know of) but “I” will never say anything! As we all know, I get into enough trouble the way it is.

This is the type of week where the ol’ ladies would decide to go out and water their flowers, turn on the water and within seconds decide the old pickup needs washing instead.  But on the way to get the bucket and rags to wash it, they remember they need to check the mail. So out they head toward the road and the fallin’ down wooden mailbox … but halfway there they remember one of them had already gotten it and left it on the picnic table earlier that morning. So,  back they come … but before they wash the vehicle they decide to go through the bills and see if there is any emergency. But what they REALLY mean is they might need to round up some money in case something is long overdue, upon which everything gets forgotten! It drives me crazy just to watch them … and they think “I” got problems!  All I have to say is no wonder they need to do everything together. Can you imagine the trouble one of them ol’ fools sauntering around by herself could get into?

Wanted: One Matre’ de for hire

Keeping this place critter-free ain’t easy. Far from it, especially when its full moon week and everything that meanders down the road is considered a cute little pet! Our latest little (ugh)  ‘cutsie was a 30-lb plus raccoon that decided our place was the elite place to stay and eventually have three small babies… I mean … why not for heavens sake? We had a full pan of cat food sitting on the picnic table every night,  with a clean pan of water to wash its little fingers in right next to it! And if that wasn’t enough, we placed the table under the tree so at night it could eat away from the yard light in peace. All we needed was a matre’ de as a waiter, offering seconds al’ a carte  with candle-light and a lace table cloth to be on the cover of  ”La Pêche et son environnement”.

I will have to give the two ol’ ladies a tad’ bit  of credit. Their story was that the food and water were for the old two black barn-yard cats (like that was going to make me feel any better!) and they had placed the table away from the yard-light to prevent the dogs from barking all the time. Okay, that just might be a good tale, and I might even buy it, EXCEPT those ‘fat black cats never moved out from beneath their heat lamps at night on the patio all year long.  In fact, they never moved much during the day either. The only cat worth any interest around here  was the wild grey cat … my mortal enemy and also of the old black barn-yard cats.

These black cats had come out of the hills with the old women over ten years ago, hanging out of a dog house perched on that same white pick-up we have today with two ducks named Gertrude and Tyrone. Some netting was kind of nailed over its front to prevent all of them from toppling out — with the dog house sitting on top of four bales of hay. Believe me, after all these years … these cats did not have much of a sense of humor about anything since that very day!

On the Road Again

Nobody really knew for sure when that big coon showed up, she just showed up kind of sauntering down the road. I saw it, and tried to head it off . .. but to no avail. It knew a good thing when it saw it!  Sigh. But one of the ol’ gals had headed out the front door one evening to empty the trash and get a jug of water from the well faucet found it before my plans could be better laid.

As usual, she was dressed in all her exquisite evening finery — a pink-striped pair of baggy pajamas bottoms and a red checkered flannel top with flowers that hung down to her short knees.  Precious. Just precious. Yeeahhh!! Anyway, I am surprised the neighbors didn’t see her heading toward the trash barrel,  kind of like a fluorescent glow along with her huge black floppy crocs on. Flop flop, flop flop …

What was really funny was that the big ol’ coon was sitting on the ground next to the water faucet… obviously not paying any attention to the choice morsels up on the picnic table. Screaming my fool head off and barking so loud I choked on my own tongue that was hanging half-out to the ground, the ol’ gal calmly and simply said, “Now Holly, you know you can’t come outside with me at night! Now be quiet!” NIGHT! COME OUT! Couldn’t that ol’ fool see something as big as a small cocker sitting in front of her with toenails as long as knives and teeth hanging out like … like … hideous FANGS! Was she BLIND! And FAT, my gosh that thing was fat!  The coon . . .

As she walked toward the faucet, the ol’ gal finally did notice the coon. (I hysterically say to myself . . . FINALLY!) In fact, she  had walked by her so close she could have reached out and patted her on the head, as the coon was blending into the evening shades  and day lilies so well. Without even blinking an eye, the ol’ gal hurried into the house to share the good news!

Good news! Why … I  wanted to kill it! It was dangerous! It was … it was … UGLY! Bark! Bark!

“Holly! Quit barking, you will scare it away! It’s just another cute little pet!

???  Huh! A cute little … WHAT!”

“BARK! BARK! BARK!”

A New Mama

It wasn’t long before we had four raccoons in our basement, running around every night as we ‘tried to sleep, eat, drink, watch televison, or just plain visit. What makes me really angry is that my petting was even getting kinda’ interrupted! I guess mama coon was teaching her babies to run mach 7 around the basement steps before heading out into the night to set the entire kennels barking. Or at least it sounded like it for sure. Night after night. Sigh. If I could say “I told you so” in bark language to two people sitting on the couch with me, I most certainly would. Bark! Bark!

****************************************** Holly’s Quotes

The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.—Gandhi

(Photographs from The Chive)

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