The Solution (Needs some paint.) :
Pasiano cut this wooden barrier and screwed it to the Plastic frame of the cat door. The door is metal so would have made for a trickier attachment. Let’s see if this is strong enough to stop a determined puppy.
Helpless:
Scene Viewed Through the Locked Glass Front Door of the Kitchen
There’s insurgent action at the rear kitchen door.
First one unrepentant rebel and now I see one more.
My houseguests didn’t secure the periphery completely
and now one paw has breached the screen and opened it completely!
A dog’s whole avarice is culinary. Now they seek it out.
That pork roast on the counter? Gone without a doubt!
That carrot cake I cherished? Demolished in a flash.
The potato salad vanishes. And now a furry dash.
They depart the opened doorway and soon they’re over yonder.
Their tummies adequately filled, I think they do not ponder
what the rest of us will dine on. Dogs are not endowed with guilt.
Should have factored in housebreakers when that sliding door was built!
Prompt words today are cherish, avarice, yonder, insurgent and potato.
In honor of Canadian Thanksgiving and looking forward to ours later this month, this poem is dedicated to Morrie and Diego, who profit from all culinary events in my house:
Leftovers
(Dedicated to Two Hopeful Dogs)
Crying for our leftovers won’t bring you any favors.
You will not taste their textures or masticate their flavors
if you stand there begging. Those winsome looks aren’t working.
Nor are your lapsing manners—your twisting and your jerking.
Hunger doesn’t justify your unwelcome behavior.
Before we even sat down, we saw Grandpa was your savior,
slipping you a turkey leg he had dipped in gravy.
(That leg I’d saved for leftovers–a turkey sandwich, maybe.)
Our home-cooked meal? Delicious. That you already know.
When I cooked the pies, I fed you scraps of dough.
The turkey giblets boiled for gravy, later went to you.
When I cooked the cranberries, you even ate a few.
You licked the pumpkin bowl so clean. You licked the beater blade
when I whipped the cream for pies. Dear ones, you had it made.
So when you beg for leftovers, I’ll just ignore your fuss.
You ate before the guests, dears. Leftovers are for us!
Prompts for today are winsome, manner, justify, leftovers and home.
Well, it has been exactly one year to the day since I returned home to this scene and very shortly thereafter, this scene.
So, how appropriate that I should return home today to this scene? To hear the story via captions and see larger views, click on first pic and right side of remaining pics.
So, do you think it is fair to give Diego Morrie’s bed? I am absolutely sure Diego did not rip up his own bed as he hasn’t chewed up anything for years and Morrie chews up everything he comes in contact with.  Not a bed, however, at least not lately.  I’ve been doing what I did last year––leaving early in the morning for camp, getting home exhausted and feeding the dogs and going to bed to rest so no, I haven’t thrown his toy much for him and perhaps he is bored, but he has a whole big yard to play in and a brother to play with him.  Is it cruel to punish him by making him sleep without a bed for a few nights?  What do you think, Aunt Marilyn?
What I Found When I Got Home from the Beach!!!!
Morrie totally destroyed Frida’s bed but left Diego’s untouched! BAD DOG!!! Frida is sleeping in my bathroom on the cushy rug tonight. Guess Morrie needs to be in a cage. And can’t be trusted at home alone.
Morrie Takes off and Brings the Road Home with Him!!!!
It’s true. When Pepe came to give me my massage today, he opened the door and all three dogs ran out! After two months of never escaping when the construction guys were in and out dozens of times a day, suddenly they asserted themselves and were long gone–not a whisper of a tailfeather was in view in any direction by the time I got out in the street to call for them. I didn’t know whether to fear that they’d gone up the mountain or to be glad. No cars up there and fewer dogs than in the streets. So, nothing to be done. I decided to leave them alone ’til they came home, wagging their tails behind them. An hour and a half later, that’s what they did. The first two to enter were fine, but this is what I saw when Morrie entered!
First thing he did was make right for the water bowl.
A one-and-a-half-hour run in the mountains sure makes a Laird thirsty!!!
I couldn’t help but notice the splint-like accumulation on his leg.
not to mention the sizeable limb of some sticky weed, complete with tiny tenacious bristles all over it and flower abloom.
Oh yes, those little decorations all over his head were sticky as well, and had no desire to be shed.
Contrast Morrie to his brother’s pristine coat!
The “limb” looked like a sunbather using Morrie’s coat to attract the sun’s rays–a sort of solar hothouse!
Ah, Morrie. Always a new thrill. I got the limb off, in pieces, before he took off to tussle with Diego. When I fed them, I got a few more pieces removed, then noticed that some scraped off as Diego and Morrie rolled and growled and wrestled and did their usual hi-jinx. I went back to party preparations. (Pictures to follow.)
I have neglected to say that the doggie domain is almost finished. Today they primed the walls and they reflect so much light into the hall now that I’m tempted to leave the walls white. Dare I? It looks beautiful, even in the chalky transluscent white of the primer. I put the fridge in and the two cages with beds inside and Frida’s bed which almost entirely take up all the floor room. I left the outside door to it open and a half hour ago, heard noises and went in to find Diego in Frida’s bed and Morrie in Diego’s bed in Diego’s cage! I couldn’t persuade them to switch back to their own bunks, so we’ll see what happens when Frida comes in. No lights connected, so I can’t take a picture! Perhaps I’ll try with flash.
Happy Thanksgiving! Tomorrow before the guests come, I plan to put Diego in the doggie domain, Morrie (and his bed) in the little dog run outside the spare bedroom and Frida in the garage with her bed while the guests are here. One guest asked if she could bring her dog and I said I thought there would be pandemonium enough with my three.
DEAR HOUSEMATES
Literate for a Day: Someone or something you can’t communicate with through writing (a baby, a pet, an object) can understand every single word you write today, for one day only. What do you tell them?
Dear Morrie:
*Do not poop in the house!!!
*Do not poop in your cage!!!
*Do not poop on the terrace!!!
*Do poop in one place in the lower garden where Frida and Diego do!
*But, thanks for finally learning how to go into your cage even before I put a dog biscuit in the far end of it.
*Thanks for being so sweet and cuddly and adorable that I cannot help but forgive you for your numerous sins.
Dear Frida:
*Do not bark incessantly every time the garage door goes up!!!
*Do not bark incessantly every time I come to feed you!!!
*But, thanks for never coming into the house without being asked.
*Thanks for never (hardly ever) getting into the organic garbage I save for Yolanda’s pig.
Dear Diego:
*Give this constant tussling and growling with Morrie a rest!!!
*Do not head straight for the organic garbage can every time you enter the house!!!
*Never ever again eat six raw pork chops from the skillet on a night guests are coming for dinner.
*Never ever again grab an entire cooked chicken off the counter top and head for the door on a night there is a guest for dinner!!!
*Never ever again grab and consume three-quarters of a cooked loin roast off the kitchen counter top.
*But, thanks for taking Morrie down for a potty break in the garden every night at midnight.
*Thanks for training Morrie not to come into the house until asked.
To all Three Perros:
*I’m sorry for all the nights I’ve gotten home late to feed you.
*I’m sorry for all the times I’ve embarrassed you (and Larry) in front of the neighbors by yelling louder than you to “STOP BARKING!!!!”
*I’m sorry for never taking you on walks anymore (because you disjointed my arm the last time I did.)
I guess, like most disfunctional families, we will put up with each other in spite of our drawbacks of character and performance.
––Love, Mother
Â
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Looks innocent, doesn’t he?
Morrie’s New Adventure–Epilogue, Continued.
(To see earlier episodes of the adventures of Morrie, go HERE and HERE.) When last we saw our furry fiend, uh, friend, there were three mysteries left unresolved:  why were the curtains tied up in a knot, why was the sewing machine now out in the hall, and what was in his mouth?  I just need to add three more elements to the mystery. 
Why are the handmade dolls formerly hanging from the curtain rod now lying in a heap on an upper shelf?
Why is the CD player/radio Yolanda listens to while ironing
in the (former) guest bedroom now in the bathroom?
and just what is this in the waste paper basket?
My old style phone that I use when the electricity goes out?  What is it doing there? All of these mysteries will be solved as you get a look at the scene that faced me when I opened Morrie’s door last night. (For those of you who haven’t seen earlier episodes, Morrie needed to be put in seclusion following surgery of a delicate nature that we won’t go into here.  Suffice it to say that the doctor suggested I keep him quiet and away from the other dogs, so I cleared out the guest room [more or less] and had an extra gate put up on the side of this room to afford him a small exercise area and  since he easily fits through the security bars, I left the door and screen cracked to let him in and out.)
Okay, back to our story. The time is early yesterday evening and yes, I was  blogging.  I heard a very loud BANG and surprise! It was coming from the direction of Morrie’s room.
This is the scene that greeted me when I opened the door.
The curtains were down.
As was the very heavy copper rod that held them up.
The dolls formerly hanging from the rod were in a  heap on the floor
As was the telephone,
Which, thanks to Morrie, I have now retired.
(You’ve already seen the final resting place for the phone.)
Eyeing the cord to the sewing machine and Yolanda’s radio/CD player, I knew they could only be next, so the boom box was relegated to the bathroom and as you know, the sewing machine was relegated to the hall.  And this is how the room’s contents shrunk by yet another third. 
Are you sorry for this, Morrie? Â Morrie?
Morrie seems to be heading for something, but I’m not sure what. Okay, Morrie, time out. Â Want to come to bed with your mom for awhile and KEEP OUT OF TROUBLE?
Okay, I know you didn’t mean to do it, so let’s have a little loving and then Mom needs to get back to work on her blog, okay? 
You just stay down there and no more licking, okay? Â You already licked all the lotion off my face and neck and hands..but I’m kind of squeamish, so no more licking? Â okay? Â We’ll play again after I get the blog posted! 
Uh, Morrie? I can’t see the computer with your head there, okay? Can you watch me from just a little further away? Â Okay, just one more rub and then . . . 
Go lie a little further away, okay? Â And stay there okay? Â Are you okay with that, Morrie? Â Feeling happy to be in bed with Mom? Â Isn’t that enough, Morrie? 
Okay, boy, you’re getting a little too close for comfort again, and ooops! Â There goes my computer, let me just grab it here, and. . .
Okay, fine. Â Lick my feet for awhile. Just don’t come up here
and drool on my computer again, okay?
And–here he is again! Â Do you have any hint about why it is taking me two days to post this post?
Okay, Morrie, let’s go find you a toy! How about my rubber duck with a cowboy hat, Morrie?  What do you think about him?  Your toys all seem to be gone!
Ah, you like him, huh, Morrie? That’s right. Â Lick the duck!!!!
But, don’t eat him, okay, Morrie?
Did you hear what I said, Morrie? Do what my mother used to tell us to do with gum, and just hold him in your mouth!!
Morrie! Â Look what you’ve done!
You’ve not only bitten off cowboy duck’s cowboy hat, you’ve chewed off his whole head! Where is it, Morrie? Oh my God!  Did you eat it?
Okay, Morrie, you’re looking kind of crazy, now. Calm down and give it here! Morrie! 
Morrie! Â Don’t snap at your mother!!! Â Give it here!!!
Oh, poor rubber duckie. Â Nothing left but his kerchief and vest!
So you feed bad about what, Morrie? Â Because you killed the rubber duck
or because you didn’t get to finish him off?
Definitely, not innocent!!!
THE END????
I’m hoping these pictures are odd enough to qualify for Cee’s oddball challenge this week. See her own and other oddballs HERE.
What Did You Do, Morrie?
When Morrie got into his cage the minute I came into the room, I suspected something was wrong.
Is something wrong, Morrie?
Did you do something naughty?
Have you been a bad boy?
Oh, oh, oh. What did you do, Morrie?
Did you make a mess?
Did you chew up a roll of toilet paper?
Did you open up the closet door and chew up thirty rolls of toilet paper?
Bye, Morrie!
Before he decided to leave the room for awhile, Morrie taught me some lessons. This is what I learned:
Always secure the closet doors before you leave the room.
Put everything up high!
Especially toilet paper!
And be sure to put your shoes away. Â This is my favorite pair.
I wonder where the other one is? Â Oh, that’s right. Â Morrie ate it!
Morrie? Â Going out again?
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 