Tag Archives: bad dogs

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/

And that’s two, Morrie (at least for today.)

Wish I’d gotten a picture of the cute and durable doggie toy I got you today, Morrie! IMG_2607 (1)

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IMG_2618IMG_2604IMG_2612New house record.  Fifteen minutes from gift presentation to disembowelment.  His job is done.

Morrie! I’m home!!!!

IMG_2622I see you’ve rearranged your room again.  Moved your cage closer to the view?  Wonder what the green fluffy stuff is.

IMG_2624Seems to be more of it over in your bed, which you’ve moved out of the cage and closer to the bathroom.  Oh.

IMG_2623So the green fluffy stuff is your bed–or at least part of it!  Why would they stuff a dog bed with green stuffing? Now, I am remembering that Diego unstuffed two dog beds and a cat bed before he finally stopped biting and tearing apart everything in sight. Okay, Morrie.  That’s one!

Morrie’s New Adventure–Epilogue, Continued.

IMG_1689Looks 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. IMG_1730

Why are the handmade dolls formerly hanging from the curtain rod now lying in a heap on an upper shelf?

IMG_1732Why is the CD player/radio Yolanda listens to while ironing
in the (former) guest bedroom now in the bathroom?

IMG_1725 and just what is this in the waste paper basket?

IMG_1726 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.

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This is the scene that greeted me when I opened the door.

IMG_1708 The curtains were down.

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As was the very heavy copper rod that held them up.

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The dolls formerly hanging from the rod were in a  heap on the floor

IMG_1715 As was the telephone,

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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. IMG_1605

Are you sorry for this, Morrie?  Morrie?

Morrie seems to be heading for something, but I’m not sure what. Okay, Morrie, time out.  Want to come to bed with your mom for awhile and KEEP OUT OF TROUBLE?

IMG_1628 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? IMG_1619 You just stay down there and no more licking, okay?  You already licked all the lotion off my face and neck and hands..but I’m kind of squeamish, so no more licking?  okay?  We’ll play again after I get the blog posted! IMG_1627Uh, Morrie? I can’t see the computer with your head there, okay? Can you watch me from just a little further away?  Okay, just one more rub and then . . . IMG_1688Go lie a little further away, okay?  And stay there okay?  Are you okay with that, Morrie?  Feeling happy to be in bed with Mom?  Isn’t that enough, Morrie? IMG_1626Okay, boy, you’re getting a little too close for comfort again, and ooops!  There goes my computer, let me just grab it here, and. . .

IMG_1616Okay, fine.  Lick my feet for awhile. Just don’t come up here
and drool on my computer again, okay?

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And–here he is again!  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!

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Ah, you like him, huh, Morrie? That’s right.  Lick the duck!!!!

IMG_1690But, don’t eat him, okay, Morrie?

IMG_1685Did 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!!

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Morrie!  Look what you’ve done!

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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?

IMG_1692Okay, Morrie, you’re looking kind of crazy, now. Calm down and give it here! Morrie! IMG_1693Morrie!  Don’t snap at your mother!!!  Give it here!!!

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Oh, poor rubber duckie.  Nothing left but his kerchief and vest!

IMG_1689So you feed bad about what, Morrie?  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.

Epilogue: What Did You Do, Morrie???

IMG_1542 Needed:  Innovative recycling ideas for 30 rolls of chewed up TP.  Extra points for artistic uses. (If you are new to this story, better have a look HERE first.)

IMG_1631 (1)Morrie, want to tell the folks what you did tonight?  Morrie?  Do you? IMG_1700Want to tell them why the sewing machine is out in the hall? IMG_1603Want to tell them why the drapes are tied up in a ball? IMG_1672Want to tell them what that is in your mouth,Morrie??? IMG_1696(Morrie looks a bit stunned at the prospect, or perhaps this is a look of uncomprehending innocence?  Tune in later for the rest of the story.)

What Did You Do, Morrie???

What Did You Do, Morrie?

When Morrie got into his cage the minute I came into the room, I suspected something was wrong.

IMG_1562Is something wrong, Morrie?

IMG_1563Did you do something naughty?

IMG_1564Have you been a bad boy?

IMG_1566Oh, oh, oh.  What did you do, Morrie?

IMG_1565Did you make a mess?

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Did you chew up a roll of toilet paper?

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Did you open up the closet door and chew up thirty rolls of toilet paper?

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Bye, Morrie!

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Before he decided to leave the room for awhile, Morrie taught me some lessons. This is what I learned:

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Always secure the closet doors before you leave the room.

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Put everything up high!

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Especially toilet paper!

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And be sure to put your shoes away.  This is my favorite pair.
I wonder where the other one is?  Oh, that’s right.  Morrie ate it!

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Morrie?  Going out again?

Baby Bird Saga IV

Well, a few updates.  When my friend went down to check on Lenny, he had flown the nest!  It was almost impossible to find him as he was in a fenced-in area full of plants and vines and there was no room to enter–just to try to look.  We couldn’t even reach past the chicken wire that held up the vines that obscured the heating unit.  Nonetheless, we both looked for what added up to an hour, I would imagine.  Finally, we just had to give up, but I stayed down in the hammock, hoping the parents would fly over and Lenny would somehow extricate himself.

When my friend came home, she took my place in the hammock and a half hour or so later I heard her call out that she needed help.  She had spied Lenny and was able to reach in and extract him from his jungle prison.  Back to the big rock, where lo and behold, his parents spotted him and his mother came and fed him one more time.  Then it was into his cage and into the house before a COLOSSAL rainstorm hit.  Buckets of water, crashing lightning and thunder that sounded like it was cracking the world open.  So glad our baby bird was not out in that!

Later I discovered two interesting facts on the internet.  #1. that just because we share a common last name, Lenny Dykstra does not serve as a good role model to name anyone after, even a bird.  So, I’m up for suggestions about what to rename him.  #2. that baby bird is most probably not a vermillion flycatcher but rather a house finch.  He looks exactly like the image online and male house finches do get rosy coloring around the head and chest, which accounts for the rosier birds we’ve seen accompanying the dull females.

So, very early Monday morning, my house guest departs leaving my family two creatures larger.  Hopefully the parent finches will continue to feed their baby and I’ll take over at night.  I’ve done some reading about the diet of finches and will provide sunflower and thistle seeds to attract the parents and give them a close by place to feed so hopefully they’ll continue to feed him. Looks like I’ll be spending a lot of time in my hammock in the lower garden, since the rock is a familiar feeding spot for both baby and birth parents.

Morrie, in the meantime, is leaving  a pathway of chaos in the front garden: pots tipped over, plants ripped out by the roots, little round stones from a mocajete spread over the terrace.  Diego is complicit in the chasing games that created some of this disorder, but with the baby bird feeding in back, I dare not put the dogs there.  I fear they don’t understand about inter-species family fealty.

Now it is 11:22 PM.  Morrie is curled up beside me in bed, I can hear strains of banda music from the town down below.  It is the festival for the town’s namesake, St. John the Baptist, who has done a good job of baptizing us all this day and for the week preceding it.  The bird formerly known as Lenny is literally asleep with his head tucked under his wing and I am about to do the same.  Your mission, if you should choose to accept it, is to help me think up a new name for baby bird.  Sweet dreams to all, or, more likely, good morning.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/all-about-me/

Sunset Story

The Prompt: A Moment in Time–What was the last picture you took? Tell us the story behind it.

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Sunset Story

A year ago, friends from our old neighborhood in Boulder Creek, CA, had come to visit me.  I hadn’t seen them in the twenty or so years since they had decided to retire early, sell their house and take off to sail around the world in their boat.  They’d asked us several times to come visit them on the boat, but we’d put it off for too long.  By the time we, too, retired and bought a house in Mexico, thinking we’d meet up there, they had sailed on to more southern climes and then very quickly, Bob took the biggest journey of all and I ended up moving to Mexico alone.  Twelve years later, Lach and Becky had moved back to land, to her old home town in Washington.

When they emailed to say they’d like to come visit me, I was happy to renew the old bonds, happier still when they liked my new home town so much that they decided to buy a house in a nearby small town, and did—on that first visit.  They had returned to the U.S. to wrap up old business and now they had returned.  As they awaited the arrival of boxes of necessities, they were once again staying with me, newly arrived home after two months at the beach, where I’d watched 60 magnificent beach sunsets in a row—each uniquely beautiful.

But home sunsets had their own glory: the magnificent Mt. Garcia with Colima Volcano peeking over its side, the lake below reflecting the colors of the sunset, the domes of houses down below giving foreground interest.  As I glanced up from my dinner preparations, I knew this was yet another of a thousand unique sunsets I had previously captured.  I even knew where my camera was—a wonder after days of unpacking and putting away piles of the car full of home necessities I’d lugged with me to the beach.

I snapped dozens of pictures from three different levels of the terrace and garden. Then, spying the hammock in the gazebo on the lowest level, I decided to swing for awhile and watch the progress of the sunset.  Since my house is on a mountainside, I was still far above the lake with lots of sky to view as well.  As I neared the hammock, I saw Diego—my youngest and blackest and most mischievous dog—gnawing on something that sounded like a bone.

I tried to see what it was, but he moved off quickly.  I knew the crunch of bones, however, and was sure one of the friends who used my house while I was gone had supplied him with a bone which he had promptly buried.  Then I remembered that the dogs hadn’t been there while I was gone, but had stayed with a friend in his house.  But occasional uprooted flowers or succulents give testimony that my yard is in fact a graveyard for buried and un-resurrected bones.  Diego had probably just unearthed one he’d been dreaming of for the two months he’d been separated from it.

I had my swings in the hammock, a little shut-eye if not sleep, supervised the sunset, and then decided Lach and Becky would soon be back from a foray to their house, a few miles away in Chapala.  It was to be our farewell dinner tonight as they were moving to their own digs tomorrow.  I climbed the short pathway up to the house, noting as I approached it, that both the grillwork and screen  between the terrace and living room were open, even though I remembered very distinctly having shut them on my way out of the house.  I slid both shut behind me as I moved to the kitchen to finish dinner preparations.  Two pans of veggies stood in their steamers on top of the stove, mashed potatoes were covered and ready to heat up in the microwave, apple cake covered on the counter, six pork chops —(not) nestled in the skillet ready to be browned.

It became immediately clear what Diego had been munching down below.  As I snapped photos (including these) he had slid open the slider and deftly purloined six raw pork chops without even moving the skillet, which stood in exactly the same position on the stove where I had left it.  Bad dog!  I shouted off into empty space, as he probably lay on the dome of the house—both dogs’ favorite spot in the house—accessible by first a set of stairs that ran up the side of the house and then a small leap to to ledge around the dome and a fast scramble up its smooth sides.  I imagined him up there, licking his chops (literally, in two regards,) enjoying the sunset.

That night, we dined on chicken.
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