Shortly after I dealt with Annie’s disappearance, I heard a boy’s voice from inside my house. It was Oscar, Yolanda’s son, with Brian, his sister Yoli’s chihuahua, resplendent in a red sweater with hood with big three-dimensional eyeballs on top. Pablo, Yolanda’s husband, has kidney failure and is going to have to undergo periodic dialysis in his home. For this reason there can be no animals in the house and they have two dogs. Up until now they’ve just put them in the spare fenced yard next door, but it is of course heartbreaking so guess who Brian’s next designated master is? (Yoli, Yolanda’s daughter named him after a hero of hers–a character in a movie about cars. We cannot figure out who this character is.) UPDATE: The dr. decided the emotional harm to Pablo in losing Brian outweighed the harm of having a dog in the house (Even the dr. was crying when he saw how upset Pablo was) so with the new air cleaning machine I gave Pablo for Xmas and their promises that Brian would be confined to Yoli’s room, the dr. gave his permission for them to bring Brian home. Everyone so happy. Brian the happiest. I have a video of his reaction when he saw the family again.. I’ll show it as soon as I get the sound off. Won’t tell you why.
So far he gets along fine with Kukla, the female outside cat and Morrie, the Scottie, but he’s scared of Diego who is not mean but overenthusiastic and I heard a loud few yips when Ollie, the male outside cat, came home. So, for now he goes in the front garden with the cats when I’m gone or when he needs air and I’ll leave the door to the backyard open a bit so he can slip through the bars if he wants to go play with Morrie, but so he can escape from Diego if he needs to.
As for Annie? She absolutely ignores him. Pretends she’s asleep. Keep them permanently confused. That’s the secret of my success with animals. Only problem is that Brian insists on lying on my lap while I’m at the computer which is not very comfortable. Where he will sleep? Well, that is to be seen.
These are a few photos of the first ten hours of life with Brian.
The way this works is, I sneak up on them when they are already lying down and preferably asleep. Then, very quietly, so as not to disturb them, I whisper, “Play dead!” It works every time. If you click on any photo, they will all enlarge.
For the Halloween Challenge prompt “trick.”
Lately it’s incredible
how many products edible
I’m buying daily at the store.
There’s constantly a need for more.
One type for kittens two months old,
getting more hungry and more bold.
In the morning, when I enter in,
they climb my robe or climb my skin
thinking that perhaps they may
consume kitten tuna souffle
a second before all their peers
consume it. All four little dears,
meows now turning into roar
as though only four hours before
they had not had a late night meal
of special kitten rice and veal.
Then the old cat limps out to see
the special treat that’s brought by me.
Mixed with fish oil, sardine pate—
a king’s ransom three times a day.
She deigns to feed upon this fare,
eschewing edibles less rare.
The small dog with a skin condition
consumes his own special edition
dog food for his special state
I portion out upon his plate.
Just one more left—the old dog claws
the window with his muddy paws,
demanding edibles from me
both by his barks and what I see.
I provide a different dog food for
this anxious dog who mars my door.
The menu, as you see, is varied.
As cook and waitress, I am harried.
But breakfast done, I take a rest
to do the thing that I like best.
The minute they are finished chewing,
I present their menu for your viewing!
Seven animals with 4 different diet demands make feeding time a big job–especially with the cat and kittens who need to be fed numerous times a day. I’m off now to apply for a bank loan so I can go to the store with a wheelbarrow for today’s provisions. When days are full, hyperbole helps.
The prompt word today was edible.
Every time I see these photos in thumbnail view in my photo file, I think, “Now whose dog is that?” Then I enlarge them and realize they are two views of one of Jan Golik’s fabulous junk art dog portraits. I believe this one is of her own dogs and it looks exactly like him. Amazing.
Okay, now here they are in larger views:
The Couch Potato’s Creed
Though he who hesitates is lost,
impetuosity has its cost.
You should look before you leap,
because still waters might run deep.
Though early birds might get the worm,
rash actions trip up the infirm.
So all-in-all I think it’s better
if you aren’t a go-getter.
I guess the moral to this tale
is lest you lose or lest you flail,
you’re up against the proverbial wall.
It’s best you do nothing at all!
I’ve discovered an interesting fact about Morrie. He frequently sleeps with his eyes wide open! In the above photo, he’s on the sofa, but I snapped the below photos one morning when he had usurped my bed as well:
The boy knows how to make himself comfortable.
The prompt today was “hesitate.”
just one crumb
lying on yesterday’s
proof of last night’s sin
lapped up happily
Temptation was the prompt word today.
Click on photos to enlarge
Personally, I prefer last year’s model. This year’s looks too grown up. But it will be good for the beach. He looks like a square-jawed rabbit, doesn’t he?
Today’s prompt word was year.
She used to chase the shadows of birds across the ground
and dig where they disappeared
and never once thought to look up,
no matter how many times I tried to tell her to.
Chasing light across the pool, she’d pace
back and forth, along its further edge.
Her first playmates the cats,
she could not follow them up into the trees,
but stood instead, barking at the bark they clung to.
Thinking herself a cat, perhaps,
or all of them some new species in between,
she followed wherever it was possible to go.
Up the broad steps to the second floor,
across the terraza and just a small leap
to the ledge of the high sloping dome of the roof.
Up to its top to lie or stand and bark at all who trudged up our mountain
to intrude into her world.
She could see for blocks,
turning like a sundial with the sun
to change her focus, but usually starting at the point,
southward, that most invaders came from.
Neighbors led by unwelcome dogs on leashes
passed below her on their morning walks,
or farmers carrying hoes or machetes
up to the fields above.
Lines of burros plodding beneath her, facing uphill,
small herds of cattle
flooding down to the lake for water—
none escaped the attention of this reina,
who would bark directions to be on their way, fast,
and not to loiter.
No creature had greater staying power than she.
The cats, bored with the high view,
moved to the bushes and trees to hunt possums, squirrels and salamanders.
Only she stayed true to her original position
as she looked ever down from that high dome,
only deserting it a year ago,
when I locked the gate that blocked her progress up—
not because I judged it unsafe for a dog grown arthritic and less sure of her step,
but because of the new puppy,
untrained by cats and with feet less experienced than hers.
Feeling punished, perhaps, she traded her high domain
for a place beneath the terrace table
from which she watched the two upstarts
speed by to cavort in the lower garden
where she once chased bird shadows in the grass.
She exercised her staying power one last time
as, looking down on a world reduced to only me,
never once blinking, she stared into my eyes
as I crouched beside the vet’s high table,
and looked straight back up into them,
the closest I’d ever been to her.
That table’s surface, straight and gleaming stainless steel,
was where she lay with her front legs spread-eagled
for the long hour it took to finally climb up that high dome again.
I wonder if she heard me as,
“Good girl,” I told her a hundred times that final hour, and meant it.
“Good, good girl. Look up now. And go on.
You were always such a good, good girl, watching out for us.
But now, look up. Go on.”
The prompt word today is “Original.”