How To Be A Squeaky Wheel

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I rarely pass up the opportunity to gripe about companies that irritate me when I already deal with enough irritations on a daily basis. For instance, take my cat, Skye, who vomited her entire meal onto the kitchen nook seating; she couldn’t do it on the kitchen tile like a considerate cat would, but apparently that never crossed her mind.

The culprit

Anyway, to begin my griping, I’ve had DirecTV for over 30 years. I’m too lazy to leave my desk to confirm that number, but it’s been mucho years. During those mucho years, I’ve only called DirecTV a handful of times. In other words, I’d say I’m an ideal customer.

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Oh Happy Day! Or Is It?

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Still playing catch up from my trip, so here’s a posting for 2017 that, sadly, is still relevant today.

I think you all know how much I’ve struggled with house training my one-year-old Dachshund mix, Wally. He’s either the most stubborn dog this side of New York or not a very bright canine. I’d say maybe both.

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After his first bath

My friend Patty adopted a Dachshund mix a day before I took home Wally last summer. Unlike me, she has a history with the breed and wanted a companion for her full-on Dachshund, Jimmy Dean.

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Jimmy Dean

Enter Ali. Hard as it is to believe, Ali is even cuter than Wally. But Patty’s pup has the same issues as Wally. Yippee!

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Ali
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My So-Called IQ Test

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So, one day a couple of months ago, I became antsy reading a ton of emails from those wanting help trapping a feral cat, wanting a feral cat, or needing their feral cat sterilized…just my usual morning in cat rescue.

I then decided to take a detour to focus on something else, something a little more, shall I say, entertaining. If you’ve seen the movie, Pretty Woman, starring Julia Roberts, you probably recall the line she said to the saleswoman who refused to help her buy a new wardrobe, and I quote:

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Compassion: A Curse and a Blessing

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Okay, so you probably noticed my last post ran for two weeks. That’s because I was in France with my besties, cruising for two glorious weeks along the Seine River from Paris to Normandy, which I’ll be blogging about. But until then, here’s a rerun from 2022. I hope you enjoy it…

I believe I have an overactive compassion gene. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that’s a particularly bad trait, depending on how you look at it. For one thing, it means I’m not a psychopath since they tend not to have an ounce of compassion, let alone a conscience. So yay for me!

The reason I even brought this up is because I’m in animal rescue, specifically cats. Not that I don’t rescue other creatures. I’m what you would call an equal opportunity savior. Wait. That sounds pompous. Let me rephrase that. How about equal opportunity rescuer? Yeah, that’s better.

Now, you’re going to think I’m a bit loony. And you wouldn’t be far off, especially when I tell you what I did the other day…So I’m having lunch at home when I reach for my glass of water and notice a fly inside, swimming frantically in circles. I’m not entirely certain flies swim but whatever it was doing, it looked frantic.

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Say it Isn’t So

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It is with profound sadness that I announce the passing of a very special friend; a friend that has been there for me the past 13 years, through both great and difficult times.

Although my friend could be frustrating and, on occasion, disappointing, I’m sure it was usually my fault. When life got busy, I tended to be neglectful. I admit I sometimes left him behind – usually in my trunk.

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