If you didn’t read last Sunday’s post, you might want to do so before embarking on this one or you’ll wonder what’s up. Don’t worry, I’ll wait while you do. (Click on Holy Crap.) Okay, ready?
When I last left you, Loretta and I emerged from the marsh only to find 4 policemen with their guns drawn. Here’s the thing. I may have slightly misled you into believing we were the subjects of their intended apprehension. But that, my friends, is what you call a cliffhanger. Now don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t lying to you; their guns were just pointed in a different direction from us.
I bet you think it’s the guy with the rifle. So did we. But no. It was a man a few yards from us. What had he done to instigate police action? Who knows. But he ignored their command to put his hands on the hood of his car, which is just plain stupid. I was expecting to hear gunshots, but he finally complied and was handcuffed.
Holy crap doesn’t begin to describe the day we had last week.
Actually, how it all started may have been an omen. Loretta and I were driving to Mare Island to trap Spot, the last of many feral cats we relocated from under a condemned building, when we heard a strange sound. Seems a screw was embedded in my tire. Now don’t get me wrong; that didn’t stop us.
Don’t worry, we reached our destination without a flat and quickly caught Spot, who’ll be happy to join his buddies at their new outdoor home. Spot’s feeder monitored the trap while we headed elsewhere on the island to check on other ferals. So far so good. That all changed when Loretta’s eagle eyes spotted some distressed dogs in front of one of the island’s many abandoned military buildings. Continue reading →
I had a confetti-filled homecoming last night; my house was TP’ed with a mega roll of Charmin Ultra Soft toilet paper. I know this because I bought the paper myself. You see, the scene of the crime took place inside my home.
Upon walking through the door, I spotted the evidence strewn about like mounds of paper snow. I immediately suspected the culprit was my border collie mix, Callie. She’s a chewer and she bores easily – two rather unfortunate traits in a canine. Continue reading →
I don’t know about you but daylight saving time always throws me for a loop. As you already know, I’m a night owl. I don’t do mornings well but I’m sorta forced to by my animal menagerie. They see to it I don’t reach the recommended 8 hours of sleep per night. In fact, they are quite adept at it.
I ask you, does any woman over age 60 get 8 hours of sleep? If so, I have yet to meet her. And if I ever do, I’m pretty sure I’d hate her. Wait, hate is too strong. Let’s say dislike immensely. But that’s only because I’d envy her. Then I’d dislike her because I envy her. Confused? Me too…
Now don’t get me wrong; I was unaware of the time change last Sunday. Can you believe it? (That was rhetorical.) Only caught my mistake when I glanced at my phone early that morning. Talk about being oblivious…
So last week you learned 5 of my pets have quirky ways. Who doesn’t, right? But that’s only half of it. There’s still 5 more of my crew who are no less quirky than the others. Trust me here. For instance…
Fat Jack is a perfect example of a dichotomy. On the one hand he’s a lover boy and on the other he’s Mr. Hyde from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The boy has a hint of evil just below the surface and it emerges precisely when he’s being Mr. Lover Boy.
You see, Jack enjoys grooming my other cats. He’ll snuggle beside someone and begin licking with his painfully rough sandpaper tongue. But it must feel good because they let him. He licks around the head and face, their eyes closed, basking in his tongue massage and all’s well with the world. For about 3 minutes.
Then out of nowhere Mr. Hyde appears. Jack attempts to mount whichever cat, male or female (he’s not picky). He quickly becomes overstimulated and starts neck biting like a vampire. Next thing I hear are cries of discomfort so I shoo Jack away. Now don’t get me wrong; they still come back for more so I can only surmise the pleasure is worth the pain.