Category Archives: dogs

Accident

The Prompt: Tell us about a time you should have stopped and helped someone but didn’t.

DSC07911Accident

When I rise at seven to let her out,
she’s in a hurry, without a doubt,
for I see only a streaking blur––
a tip of tail and whirr of fur.
As she rushes out to pee,
the shame is not on her, but me.
I heard her bark an hour ago,
but it was only seven and so
I thought I’d just go back to sleep
and she made no further peep.

Now I see the pile upon the floor
just inside the open door
held as long as she was able,
then hidden underneath the table.
Not the first time in twelve years
that she’s caught me in arrears
in opening doors to let her out,
yet it is true without a doubt
that she has never erred before
and made a mess upon the floor.

I know that she is feeling shame,
even though she’s not to blame.
For once she is not under feet
as I prepare something to eat;
and when I call, she does not come.
She’s in the garden, feeling glum.
She feels she’s done a shameful act
devoid of training, breeding, tact.
She does not know that I’m the one
standing here with smoking gun.

Every bit of blame is mine,
for Frida’s former record is fine.
For twelve long years, she never peed
upon the roof in time of need
even when we didn’t know
she was locked up there and so
there is no need to hang her head
in shame of what she’s done, and dread
of being scolded or being blamed.
I am the one who should be shamed!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sorry-im-busy/

What I Found When I Got Home from the Beach

What I Found When I Got Home from the Beach!!!!

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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.

 

Before and After

Before and After

(First shots of the almost-completed Doggie Domain!!!!  Two months in the making, soon to be painted, skylighted and sliding-glass-and screen-doored, but finished enough for habitation.  Inaugural night!!!)

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And After:

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What is wrong with this picture?  Well, Diego is in Frida’s bed and Morrie is in Diego’s bed (and cage) and Frida is outside, waiting to be let in to sleep in her bed in the guest bathroom!!! They all stubbornly refused to readjust themselves until mom got tough.  Kids today don’t appreciate what we go through for them!!!!  But, it’s wonderful not to trip over their cages in the hall and not to have to remove Frida’s bed to my room every time company comes. ( And not to wake up in the middle of the night wheezing because I’m allergic to her.)  Poor babies.  Wish they could all sleep with mom, but fear mom wouldn’t be around long if they did.

Morrie Takes off and Brings the Road Home with Him!!!!

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!

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First thing he did was make right for the water bowl.

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A one-and-a-half-hour run in the mountains sure makes a Laird thirsty!!!

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I couldn’t help but notice the splint-like accumulation on his leg.

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not to mention the sizeable limb of some sticky weed, complete with tiny tenacious bristles all over it and flower abloom.

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Oh yes, those little decorations all over his head were sticky as well, and had no desire to be shed.

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Contrast Morrie to his brother’s pristine coat!

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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.

 

 

Scotch Pride

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My name is Laird Morrie and I’m the ruler of all you survey.

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This is my princess.  We’re about the same size.

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As you can see, my brother Diego is twice my size

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And although it looks like he is killing me in all of these tussling  matches,

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In fact, I always come back for more.  More often than not, I am the aggressor.  More often than not, the bigger dog wins.

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Yet still, I remind myself, I am royalty.  And I pounce again!

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This is Frida, one of the three ladies of the house.  Here she maintains her distance.

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This is the other non-human lady of the house. Neither of these ladies likes me much, for I like their dinners entirely too much. Sometimes I jump up on the ledge of the wall and reach up to dine on what this lady leaves behind. Sometimes I dine on it before she’s ready to leave it behind, so my mom put a big plant on the ledge.  Now I wait for a rainy day, when my mom puts the cat’s meals in the garage rather than on the wall. Then I can jump up on the lower wall near the gate, jump up to the workbench in the garage, and eat her whole meal before she sees it.  I am Morrie, Laird, jumping dog, dog of major appetites, schemes and feats of great athletic prowess
.

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Sometimes I lie, awaiting the arrival of the third lady of the house.

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When we hear the garage door opening, we spring to attention.

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We greet her arrival with LOUD and incessant barks of approval.  In this picture, we are not barking, for our mom has never had the  patience or sanity sufficient to snap a picture when we are heralding her arrival with LOUD and incessant barks.

IMG_3940Often Frida gives up and runs away when Mom bellers, “SHUT UP!!!” to try to curb our enthusiasm over her arrival.  Sometimes the neighbors run away, as well! But Diego and I do not give up easily.  When it comes to the potential for supper or dog treats, I’m in it for the long run. For after all, in the end it is staying power and stubborn dedication that win the day–and in the end, it is breeding that counts

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when one is royalty, and stubborn, to boot!!!!

 

You might think you are seeing double if you check out Marilyn’s prompt page!  http://teepee12.com/2015/11/18/serendipity-photo-prompt-2015-30-hunting-the-wild-scottie/

Dear Housemates

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?

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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.

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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.

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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

 

 

 

In and Out

In and Out

 

The Lapdog

Dogs that stand outside and seek admittance to within
overlook the worth of what they’ve seen and where they’ve been.
Those of us sealed fast inside yearn to see the world
that we have been deprived of as we lie securely curled
in the safety of our houses, away from chasing cars
and other fun activities kept from us by bars.
We would feel such ecstasy racing after squirrels,
other dogs and cats and lizards, skunks and boys and girls.
We seek to flee the rules that those street dogs seem to flout.
We would have such wild adventures if we only could get out!!

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The Street Dog

Lucky little dogs with collars sit there looking out
as though they do not know what life for street dogs is about.
We’d love to have their pampering and their daily feeding.
What they seek escape from is exactly what we’re needing!

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The Prompt: Tell us about a time you were on the outside looking in. https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/the-outsiders/

Pretty in Pink! (Photo a Week Challege)

                                                             Pretty in Pink

IMG_7463IMG_7447On Halloween Day in Ajijic, I found these two beautiful ladies all clad in pink.  Lucky that this just happened to be Nancy Merrill’s topic for the week–a fact I discovered when I got home.  Some days, things just work out.

https://nadiamerrillphotography.wordpress.com/2015/10/29/a-photo-a-week-challenge-pretty-in-pink/

Where is Magic When You Need It??

IMG_6866The bricks under the window arch will be removed after the bricks forming the arch are placed over it and the mortar dries  The top of the arch you see here will actually be the bottom of the window arch.  Think backwards!

                                 Where is Magic When You Need It?

Oh dear.  I could have used a bit of magic in dealing with one very irate plumber who came up to the kitchen waving his knapsack and pulling at a big chewed spot in the small pocket in front.  Reaching in, he drew out a half-eaten lonche (sandwich made out of shredded pork in a bolillo–a small crusty loaf of delicious Mexican Bread.)

“Su perro, su perro! ” he exclaimed and I understood at once that he had left his knapsack down where any one of three inquisitive and always-hungry dogs could investigate (and open) it.  It was the small one, he sputtered.

In my best ( worst at best) Spanish I said, “You can’t leave your lunch on the ground with three dogs present.”  But it was zippered into his bag, he said.  I had to laugh.  You’ve seen Morrie’s past exploits, right? If not, suffice it to say that in one week he consumed thirty rolls of toilet paper, two rolls of paper towels, a rubber duck, three doggie toys, a box of crayons, one shoe, five books and the handles off an antique chiffarobe. When I bought him one of those indestructible hard rubber toys in an hourglass shape–the ones you put a dog biscuit or peanut butter into to encourage chewing?  Guaranteed forever?  He bit it in two in fifteen minutes.  This is why I laughed.

“I’ll make you a delicious pork loin sandwich,” I told him.

But the knapsack! he whined.

“I’ll buy you a new bag.  Tell me what it costs and I’ll replace it.”  He looked somewhat happier.  He returned to my studio, where they were fixing a burst pipe.  I returned to the kitchen where I cut a  half inch slab of pork loin, covered it with au jus and slivered carrots cooked in the juice, made a sandwich, put celery sticks and dipping dressing in a bag, made guacamole and sandwiched  it between four crisp tortillas, added a Coca Cola and carried the bag with his new lunch down to the studio.  Inside the studio were all three dogs and three piles of poop–all Morrie’s.  I know it so well. Piled around were various bags and boxes of valuables used to make retablos that my robber dogs had had free access to.

“You can’t let the dogs into the studio,” I directed, and shut the door.  I leaned down to remove Morrie’s markers and by the time I arose, one plumber had gone to retrieve something from the garage, the door was open again and all three dogs were inside.

“I’ll put the dogs in the garage,” I said in my creative Spanish, and went to the house to fortify my demands with dog biscuits.  But when we arrived at the garage, there was a very large plastic pipe they’d drained the aljibe (cistern) with in order to clean it, so no go with dogs in the garage. Morrie could have that pipe deconstructed in minutes! Where else? Men were carrying concrete around the side of the house and so I couldn’t close the front yard off from the back.  Finally, I enclosed them all within the 20 foot long “pen” I’d created to isolate Morrie while he recuperated from his earlier neutering. The room builders were off in the street, eating lunch under the neighbor’s trees.  (More of a vacation than eating under my trees.) The plumbers were in my gazebo, having their lunch.  I went down to tell them the dogs were removed from their company at least for now.

The one plumber didn’t look ecstatic over my balanced meal provided, but perhaps he hadn’t tasted it yet.  The pork is delicious, I know.  I’ve been eating it every day for three days now.  The last time I cooked one of these marinated pork tenderloins, I made one meal of it before  Diego snatched the rest off the counter where Yolanda had placed it while she cleaned the fridge.  This time I was looking forward to more than one meal of it, but I’m very happy to share it with the plumber.

Yesterday, I finally dealt with a three day bout of terrible allergies by taking an antihistamine.  As a result, I slept all afternoon, awakening at 7:30 at night.  After feeding the dogs, I suddenly had a terrific burst of energy during which I cleaned out and reorganized the entire garage, Scoured out a 20 year old Rubbermaid garbage can so we can use it to store dog food in, washed dishes and straightened the kitchen and dining room.  I then reorganized my bathroom storage, hung up all my clothes discarded in hurried changes of costume over the past few days, had the silliest of conversations with my Missouri friend and went out for an after-midnight photo session, the results of which you can see on Cee’s Flower of the Day Challenge on this morning’s blog posting.  I then watched an episode of “Castle,” played three games of computer solitaire and finally looked at the clock.  Five A.M.?  I had an English lesson to teach in a few hours and workmen coming at 8.  Loud workmen!!!  Off went the lights and five minutes later, Yolanda arrived with a cup of coffee.  Looks like three hours sleep was going to have to do.

So, another day and another magical progression of events that let me know I’m alive.  The weather is perfect.  Slight breeze moving the trees.  Pasiano accomplished most of the list of “to do’s” I thought up for him to do while experiencing my own all-night energy spurt. The builders are back from lunch and I’m looking out on the beautiful arched window they are in the process of constructing that I’ll be able to see every day from my desk for the rest of my life.  My kids are happily at rest in their prison and hot volcanic water is streaming into my swimming pool.

Where is magic when I need it?  All around me.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/do-you-believe-in-magic/

Doggie Domain #4: Much Ado About Nothing?

                        Doggie Domain #4: Much Ado About Nothing?
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Probably no one in the history of the world has made so much out of a 6 1/2 by 7 foot room, but for some reason, I am fascinated by this change in my world.  From every door I look out of in the back of my house, from my terrace, my entrance hall, my pool, my bedroom––the view is altered.  Tonight when I got home late from my three hour “Thriller” practice, a new art center opening and dinner out with friends, I opened the door to see what progress had been made.  Before I’d left, I’d taken this picture, which I love:
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But now, tonight in the dark, I opened the door onto what had begun to really look like a room and I felt my entire life shift a bit.
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All three dogs came running up to stick their heads in the door and for the first time, Diego and Morrie came rushing into the house through the new room.
IMG_6743Frida, however, merely stuck her head in the door, looked around,
Version 2and departed.  Whistles, offered treats, calling her name–nothing worked.  She absolutely refused to enter through this new route!
IMG_6747So while Diego and Morrie settled into their cages,
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Frida’s bed remained empty until I opened the bedroom door for her.  Just 5 feet distant from the “new” portal to the house, nonetheless, it was familiar––an accepted and recognizable part of her life.  She entered.  All was right with the world.