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.
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.
This was originally just written as a fast silly poem to forgottenman to explain why I hadn’t yet gone in swimming. He insisted I blog it which meant taking photos, but alas, no camera was to be found. Phone not charged. So, I used my Kindle, but couldn’t get photos mailed to myself so I emailed the pretty bad photos to him..but couldn’t reduce them enough to get them back by email. A good 45 frustrating minutes later, I went down to the studio, thinking I’d left my camera there, but alas, no camera. I did, however find my other computer that needed to be up in my house to download some things he was sending me. I also found and killed a scorpion in the hall on my way out of the house. Back to the house to look once more in every room for my camera. Emptied my purse. No camera. Decided to go out to the garage to look in the car, I opened the front door and all 4 kittens flooded into the house. I’d forgotten to shut the gate between the front garden and the kitten domain! They immediately spread to the four corners of the house after each first going immediately to inspect the dead scorpion, which I then quickly disposed of. Finally corralled three and confined them in their sleeping room, but Kukla wasn’t to be found. Went out to garage. No camera in the car. On a hunch, I opened the back door and there it was on the floor of the backseat. It must have fallen out of my purse. Came back in, checked kittens, went out to take more photos in the back yard–of the subject of this poem–came back and heard Kukla crying, sealed in my bedroom. Let her out, tried to put her in with her peers and she ran off. She’s now purring on my lap as I type this. Photos now in the blog. Tried to put this explanation at the end but WP won’t cooperate and let me put anything below the last photo, so here we are, giving this long boring explanation when what you really want to get to is the:
Murder at Midnight
Went out to dip my toe in water,
thinking that perhaps I oughter
swim if it was not too hot
or if I found that it was not
cool enough, I’d blog some more;
but just a few feet from my door,
I found two obstacles depressing,
both of them, it’s true, more pressing
than my pool aerobics were.
The first, a snag of chewed-up fur
that turned out to be a dead rat.
The second was leaf cutter ants––
determined in their chained advance.
Thousands of them in a line,
carrying leaves on which they’d dine
later in their snug abode
outside my walls, across the road.
Unless I made a quick advance,
my trees and flowers would have no chance.
“I must be strong, I can’t demur.
I must play the murderer,”
I thought as I sprinkled a line
of poison pellets on which they’d dine.
Thus did I join my canine friends
in bringing creatures to their ends.
Fate may forgive our murdering ways,
but it won’t end our murdering phase.
(Photos may be enlarged by clicking on first photo.)


Offender #2 (and, ironically, as I type this, a hitchhiking leaf cutter ant just bit me on the neck! Murder number three. I hope. I took a swat but can’t find him. He may yet exact another revenge.
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
The 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/
I see you’ve rearranged your room again. Moved your cage closer to the view? Wonder what the green fluffy stuff is.
Seems to be more of it over in your bed, which you’ve moved out of the cage and closer to the bathroom. Oh.
So 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!
No Words!!!! (The Morrie Saga)
One episode follows too quickly on the heels of another. I’m going to let the pictures speak for themselves.
Yes, he opened the drawer. Yes, he ate the drawer knob, and the TV antenna connection, and the books, and the crayons!!! No, I didn’t ever think he could get a drawer open.
Yes, I have removed the drawers from the room now. Yes, I feed this dog. No, I can’t spend every moment with him. Yes, at least he didn’t eat the second box of crayons.
Yes, he’s sleeping here beside me as I type this. Yes, his stomach is growling.
Some Scottie parents continue to underestimate their kids, in spite of what Marilyn and Garry tell them.
Too soon old, too late smart!!!
Yes, this is a new picture of Morrie looking guilty! I should have known when he was in his cage when I entered the room and when he didn’t start clamoring to be let out of his room the minute I got home. I need a theme song similar to Jaws to start playing when I enter my house!!!
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.)
Morrie, want to tell the folks what you did tonight? Morrie? Do you?
Want to tell them why the sewing machine is out in the hall?
Want to tell them why the drapes are tied up in a ball?
Want to tell them what that is in your mouth,Morrie???
(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.)
If you have read THIS blog, you might be interested to know that while Stephanie dashed into a local market to get me one item, Morrie jumped over two seats in the car and relieved us of the responsibility of cooking and eating two chicken breasts that were nestled well down into the grocery sack. S. was not happy, but Morrie was.
When he got home, he ate a bird, or at least the remains of one as its foot was sticking out of his mouth unattached to anything else when he came to visit S. poolside. Ah the realities of puppydom. I think my two are giving him naughty lessons. Remember that mere months ago, Diego ate 6 raw porkchops from the skillet atop my stove and two days later made off with an entire cooked chicken.
Since my other two canines are named Frida and Diego, we were thinking we should rename Morrie Trotsky–If you don’t know why, this was a well-known love triangle in Mexico. And, he is a little trotter.