A Horse In The Front Yard

We spent the weekend at my brother's house and like a dumbass he failed to fix the fence correctly so one of his two horses decided to escape. Jasper never wandered away from the house and there wasn't too much concern about him straying off the property. At some point somebody would fix it and get Jasper back in the field with Willow.

I had to laugh after touring the woods on their property to see Jasper standing next to my niece's bedroom window, kindly mowing the lawn.

Dog Agility

My beautiful niece does something called "dog agility."  I had never heard of it until my sister-in-law started rambling on about it (wave hi, yes, SIL occasionally drops by my blog to catch up on the fam).  And like most things, you can do this for entertainment but then it's even more fun when you compete against other people doing it.

So the concept is to train you and your dog (people probably need more training than the dogs I would imagine) to follow commands to get through a series of obstacles.  The competition part is to do so with no errors at the fastest time.

I spent Saturday in Springfield Illinois at a national championship where my niece competed.  I'm leaving out all sorts of details but I could only absorb so much.  It was entertaining to watch, to say the least.  My favorite was a lab who jumped off course and frolicked in one of the tunnels - just rolling back and forth, having the time of his life.  Sort of killed the time component, but he didn't care.

Here is my niece with her prize winning dog - they landed second and then FIRST place in team competitions! 

The fairgrounds were hosting all sorts of stuff at the same time, just in different facilities.  I just cracked me up to see that the same location hosting DOG agility was also promoting a CAT show.  Fortunately the two did not intersect.

To be truly supportive, you wear the team colors and shout like crazy when your runner completes their course.  We had a large group in the stands and were sporting purple and halloween masks!

As soon as I pulled into the lot, the following cars proved I was in the right location...

No decent competition is complete without awesome trophies (The Husband was mystified why anyone would compete just for a trophy and not for MONEY)

And here she is, running the course

As she posed with her second place ribbon, I snuck in to help cheese up the shot.  Everyone needs a picture with their favorite aunt, right?

Strollers and Dogs

You can accuse me of being a PMS'y crabass.  I know I'll sound like an old woman in this little rant of mine, but here you go

PARK YOUR STROLLER!  OMG, not every event is worthy of your precious child attending.  If a stroller is necessary then please question the necessity of the child going in the first place.  That the big fair at the park is a stroller-worthy event, but the fairway?  Probably not.  I cannot tell you how many times I've seen someone nearly trip over a stroller.  It's hard enough to maneuver through a crowd without a stroller being in the way.  I know, some things are unforeseeable.  And yes, I have been the guilty party pushing the cumbersome stroller through a massive crowd.  It didn't take much time for me to realize that the stroller at such an event was less about exposing my child to some fabulous experience than me failing to get a babysitter and still wanting to attend something that would result in a whining, fussing, rambunctious child in the middle of naptime that would need to be somehow restrained.

For my bigger complaint, why the hell must people bring their dogs to everydamnthing?  I don't fully understand the dogs-as-children concept, but whatever floats your boat is fine by me.  Dress them up, cart them around in your purse and hand feed them, I honestly don't care.  But dragging your pooch to crowded outdoor events?  Excessive.  Do dogs really care about Marine Corps invasions on local riverfronts?  Do they want to attend carnivals?  Do they really need to sit outside and WATCH fireworks?  I doubt it.

Last night I sat next to a family with three small children (no strollers), everyone toting a chair, and dad holding the leash to two scotty dogs.  The dogs were fine as far as I could see and didn't cause a major nuisance, but it was just one more thing for passersby to step over.  Aren't dogs usually freaked out by fireworks?  It just seemed like an odd and really unnecessary event to bring dogs to.

Friday Fragments - July 1, 2011

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MONTH!!!!!!!!

Yes, I am super stoked that it's finally July and we can start celebrating Birthday Month.  It's a self-proclaimed thing and I hope everyone plays along - click on the birthday button to find out all of the details - the first birthday posting, National Celebrations, will be next Thursday.

So onto my ever so fragmented week...
Saturday was quite busy.  After a little yard work and running of errands we ventured downtown for Marine Week - check out last Sunday's post for pictures and really noisy videos.  It was AMAZING.

That evening we threw a surprise party for a friend turning 40.  Her husband rented a trolley and we drove through St. Louis, drinking and laughing and having a great time.  One of our stops was at a bar that had a mechanical bull where several of the party attendees took a ride.  For some reason my camera died through most of the night, it came back to life as we were getting ready to go home, so the bull riding pictures were fuzzy.

Before we headed home, I got a frantic call from our CEO that a train had derailed by our office and might impede my server restoration work - yeah still working on the dead server.  Fortunately by the time I got home (1pm) the server restores had completed (I'm able to remotely link into our office.... oooh cool groovy tech goddess that I am) and I didn't need to go into the office.

It turned out that the derailment, which really was literally feet from our office, was not severe.  We were picturing cars dangling off the trellis, but actually it was just debris from a service track.

Check out the red arrow, it's pointing to the stuff HANGING from the tracks!

That night was also (as if it weren't full enough) the night of a major MONSOON.  I'm not exaggerating.  As I was driving home there were sheets of rain pouring down to the point we had zero visibility.  It was insane.  I was hoping to get close enough to the tracks to see the train, but I had to turn around because the puddles in the road were just too deep!  And then by the time I got home ten minutes later, it had stopped.  Totally crazy.

Monday I slipped in dogshit in my basement posing the question, WHY WERE THE DOGS IN MY BASEMENT????  Turns out Monday morning storms had blown open a door and the dogs (with their nervous tummies) sought refuge in the basement.  I step in the goo, go splat, have minor whiplash from the impact and have to change my clothes.  Grrrrrrr

Wednesday I go into my sunroom to let the dogs outside and I slip down three steps, breaking a thumbnail and ripping skin off another finger and again jarring my shoulder still aching from the basement fall.

GUESS WHO IS GOING HOME THIS WEEKEND????  The dogs!!!!  My brother as secured employment and a place to live WITH A YARD and he's coming to retrieve his dogs this weekend.  YAHOOO!!!!  I mean, the dogs are super sweet, but three large animals in my tiny yard have taken their toll, not to mention the expense of maintaining them.  I know they'll be happy to be back with their owner.  And my lawn will be happy not being a toilet anymore.

Anybody working on family trees, get over to Ancestry.Com this weekend.  They're offering free searches on the Sons of American Revolution registrations.  It's not full access all the databases, just the one, but it's a database of names that can help in your searches.  Don't forget that sometimes other branches of your tree offers more information than your own.
   For example:  Searching John Smith you hit a wall and can't find his parents.  Look up his other children, not just the son you're related to.  Sometimes you have to go DOWN in that other child's line to find the one who has information back UP the line.  So I'm loading all of the registration info for anybody that pops up in my trees.  I'm getting lots of very distant cousin info that I don't necessarily want or need, but could search at some point hoping for older data than what I have on the family lines.

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Why was I awake at 3am when a 4.2 earthquake hit?

Let's roll back to yesterday morning... I get in my car to drive off to work and the center console was popped open.  hmmm... the door was unlocked and that console has to be intentionally opened.  If I had opened it I would have also closed it.  Remember I'm fastidious about doors and drawers being closed.  And my husband wouldn't ever dig through there.  SOMEBODY has been in my car.

Side note:  a cicada road to work on my windshield wiper!!!!  Red beady eyes and missing one wing!  I literally screamed as I turned it on to flip the bug off my car.

When I got to work I noticed napkins on the passenger seat, all of my stuff was piled up on top of them.  Those napkins had been stored in the console, definitive proof to me someone had been in there.  I checked the glove box and trunk, nothing was missing.  Even though there was still some change in my console, I'm pretty sure a good handful had been taken.

I called my husband to check our other car that is rarely locked.  Yep, it had been riffled through as well.  His change was missing and the dollar bill in his visor was also gone.  Police report is filed, blah blah blah.

I went around the neighborhood last night to let everyone know about the car incident and to make sure everyone keeps their doors locked.

The dogs don't frequently bark in the middle of the night.  We've check them out a few times.  Once there were women fighting in my drive way, back by the garage so I take the dogs seriously, but sometimes I'm convinced they're just barking at possums or one has a bad dream getting the others riled up.

Last night we jolted out of bed three times due to barking.  The street was incredibly quiet each time.  The last time was at 3am and instead of falling right back to sleep we were talking about the various sounds in the house - just shy of actually saying it's haunted - when a huge rumble, just like a very large truck, shook the house.  Sounds are very muffled from the basement where I sleep, but earthquakes are definitely louder.  I sat up in bed, ready to jolt to the floor, telling my husband THAT IS AN EARTHQUAKE.

Car break-in, earthquakes, barking dogs... all part of the night, I guess!

Mr. Yucko Services Needed

I just spent the last hour raking my backyard.  It's a small yard, but even a big yard with three large dogs would be obvious that the toilet was overflowing.  YUCK!  All I can say is that grass had better be lush and beautiful this summer.  And my brother needs to hurry up and find a place to live because I really do not want to do another load like that again.

Dog Sitting

These three guys are camping out at my house until my lughead brother is able to find a new place to live.

I don't think they remember me from a few years ago when they stayed with me while Lughead went on vacation.

My sunroom is in dire need of a mop and there is a lovely stench wafting through the house that is decidedly wet dog.  Of course Ian is totally soaking up the canine companionship.  A boy and his dog(s) or something like that. 

Maybe Dweeb, my other brother, would whisk into town and take them to his house/zoo?   **HINT HINT**

Please Vote

See that button with the cute doggy?  ->>>>  

Click it and vote.  Please!

The ever so cute and huge hearted Pippa Jackson is working desperately to help homeless animals throughout Mississippi.  That stupid oil leak in the gulf is seriously impacting everyday people and they are giving up their pets to cut back on expenses.  Pippa routinely has overflow from the shelter in her house even before the oil spill.  She bends over backwards to accept every animal that comes through her doors.

Help ARF regardless where you live.  This is a worthy organization doing a lot of good.  And please get your friends, spouses, kids, coworkers and absolutely everyone you know to vote.

Click here to follow ARF on Facebook


Here's the code for the button.  Just replace each of the 9 brackets [ with a < 

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Star Wars Birthday

In 1977 I turned 11. That August I got to spend a week with my dad and we celebrated my birthday.

The big cool thing that year was STAR WARS.  So we went to see the movie and I was absolutely captivated.  Since I loved it so much my dad bought me the two record sound track, which by the way, I still own.

He also took me to KMart to pick out a parakeet (yes, children, Kmart used to have a pet section, and a grill, and an actual blue light that moved from lane to lane highlighting in-store specials - oh life back in the day....)  I had to pick the most exotic bird possible, the only all yellow one.  It was a great pick.  Perky was my bud for many years to come.  He lived until I graduated high school and I still get a little weepy thinking about losing one of my favorite pets.  He sang and danced and even talked.  I lived with that bird on my shoulder.

Baby Parakeets

When my brother moved I became the proud owner of his several birds. I already had one, a gift from one of my candle customers (from back when I sold candles, thus the name QandleQueen... and the crowd goes "OOOOOOOOH"). Skeeter was a randy little boy and L.O.V.E.D. my thumb in some rather disturbing ways.

 (Skeeter - Dewey - Shrek/Fiona)

So my brother gives me two female birds much to the DEE-light of Mr. Skeeter. Of course us stupid humans didn't know they were female and gave them boy names - Dewey and Shrek. The girls battled something fierce for nesting rights (still clueless humans wondering WTF) and eventually started laying eggs. One day Dewey suffered a rather fierce attack by the now renamed Fiona and later died. Fiona and Skeeter became love birds. Fiona sat on her eggs and then would hide them after they failed. I have quite a collection of tiny parakeet eggs. But eventually she stuck with it and two years ago WE HAD BABIES!

(please excuse the filthy cage - there was no way for me to disturb the nest without risking my hand getting gnawed off - I also started pouring food directly on the floor of the cage so momma and later babies could feed easily)

Last year Skeeter died and the babies, named Squeak and Squawk, were much too wild to handle.  I made the difficult decision to give them away.  It's woefully quiet in my house these days and I do miss my loving little blue bird.

Walking the Dog

A gentle rain greeted me for this morning's walk. I detoured the park and just made a simple lap up and down my street. There is enough incline to almost constitute a hill, in other words make me gasp for air. It reminds me of people who walk their dogs.

I live on a street where it must be mandatory to own a dog. I failed to read the decree and thus own no dog. One kind lady brings her giant horselike poodle to my frontyard to that little strip of land between the street and the sidewalk to allow the beast to pee. I am grateful that no larger loads are deposited, but still, I have been known to dart to my car barefoot so that means I'm wading through dog urine. Lovely.

I think of all the people in this neighborhood that routinely walk their dogs, dutifully carrying plastic bags to clean up any mess. Yesterday I drove past an apartment with a man sitting on the steps loosely holding the leash while the dog did his business. The look on the dog's face, yes there was in fact a look, was despair. Don't dogs want privacy? At least to be able to duck behind a tree away from the eyes of the world?

Having owned a dog, I understand the need for one to get outside. We had the good fortune of having a fenced yard so routine walks morning, noon and night weren't necessary. Just open the door and let him run. He chose a secluded spot behind the garage to attend to his needs and then came prancing back to the door to come in. If he had an extra burst of energy he would run around the yard, dig holes and flip the motorcycle-tire-chew-toy around a few times. On days like today with a gentle rain he would stand in the kitchen trying to will his bladder into submission, doing the pee pee dance, to avoid going in the rain. Yes an eighty pound pit bull was scared of getting wet.

So I wonder on today's walk, why can't dogs be box trained like cats? Has anyone tried it? With a huge dog like my pit bull that may not be all that savory of an idea, but what about those miniature teacup sized beasts? The ones smaller than a guinea pig? Surely they would revel in the idea of not having to wait for mom or dad to return home? They have a house large enough to expend their energy so the only reason to take one on a walk is something that could be resolved with a plastic tub and cat litter. Right?

Yes, I solve all of the world's problems on my walks. You can thank me now.

Stew

I have crazy names for my pets. Yes, I actually name a pet rabbit STEW. It's pretty sick, I know.

It all started with a yellow cockatiel that we bought shortly after we got married. His name was, Dinner. He was pretty annoying and never became finger trained, probably in retaliation for his crappy name. The elderly lady next door to our apartment was in a wheelchair. Every morning she would make toast and every morning her smoke detector went off for a long time until she was able to bat a dishtowel at it enough times to clear the smoke and silence the alarm. So the bird picked up the screeching sounds of the smoke detector. It was quite lovely.

A few years later we were living in an old house. We were preparing to get cable and needed to clear some space for the new lines. Directly under the livingroom was a dirt floor root cellar. Previous occupants had filled the shelves with all sorts of crazy items including a pink sewing machine that we ended up giving to a babysitter. That day however, we noticed the faint mewing of a kitten. My then husband rooted around toward the back of the room and found three itty bitty kittens nestled together, but only one was alive. We named him Gilligan, however he didn't make it through the night. Later in the day we noticed the sound of another. He pulled out this contraption with a long tube. It looked like something belonging to a car, but he said it belonged to an oil stove. It took some time to dismantle the object. At the end of the tube was a solid casing around a fan. Wedged in there was a grimy kitten.

Before we could feed her I had to wash her. A bucket of Dawn dish detergent slowly revealed an orange tabby. From her oil encrusted beginnings it was obvious that I had to name her, Gearhead. Gearhead was a loyal pet for many years. The kids remember her for chasing them up and down the basement stairs. She liked to perch in the basement rafters scaring the shit out of me in the laundry room. She was queen of the castle and when we brought home a pitbull puppy she quickly taught him the pecking order. There was nothing funnier than watching the two wrestle - a huge 80 pound dog having his ass kicked by an 8 pound cat. Clearly he let her win as he could have killed her in one swipe. When he tired of having his face scratched he would pin her down with his front legs until she was able to scramble out and run away.

The pitbull was named, Bandit, by the kids. I had no say. If they had let me I would have gone for a traditional name, Spot, due to the giant brown spot between his eyes. I was overruled.

One day after I had finished my shift as a cashier at the grocery store I found a cage next to my car. It had a white rabbit inside and bags of food and bedding on top. I never discovered where it came from. I lugged it all home and we decided to name our newest pet, Stew. Yes, Rabbit Stew. Stew lived with us for a couple of years. I made sure to have Bandit and Gearhead locked in another room when we let Stew out of the cage. He was rather timid and spent most of his time hiding behind the furniture. On Christmas Eve one year, he had been out for a very long time. I ushered him back to his cage and went to bed. The next morning I noticed that he was a little lethargic. After the Christmas morning mayhem was over, we quietly pulled him from the cage so as not to attract the attention of the children playing with their new toys. It took some time to figure out what was wrong. I tried to coax him to drink a little water and then I made the horrible discovery. Stew had been chewing on the wallpaper the night before and managed to GLUE HIS MOUTH SHUT!!!! Before I was able to wash the glue off his mouth he had a seizure and died in my husband's arms. We had a fake burial that the kids watched from the front window - the ground was too hard and Stew made an unglorious exit via the trashcan.

I'm sorry Stew.

I was forbidden from naming later pets. The children took over that duty. For a short time we had a kitten named Joey Tribbiani.

Amanda had Rufus.

Ian had Captain Jack Sparrow.

We inherited four birds - two parakeets and two cockatiels. The cockatiels were Malachai and Baby Bird. Malachai kept his name since he is the devil incarnate. Baby Bird, however, was renamed Barnibus. Actually he has a much longer name than that, I just don't remember it.

I already had one parakeet, Skeeter, that I received from a customer at a candle party. She didn't like his noises and wanted to get a dog. Skeeter was a fantastic pet. He was finger trained and enjoyed riding around on my shoulder.

The two new parakeets that came with the cockatiels were unnamed. The blue one received the name, Dewey, and the green one, Shrek. That lasted until Shrek started laying eggs so I renamed her Fiona. Skeeter and Fiona became the proud parents of two hatchlings that I finally was able to name - Squeek and Squawk.
(Fiona is fluffed up sitting on Squawk and Squeek, prefeathers, is nestling next to her)

It will be a while before I have any more pets. I am unattached to the birds since Skeeter died last year. When a pet does come my way, I'm pretty sure it will get an off the wall name, just like all of its predecessors. At least I used normal names for my kids!