Now Don’t Get Me Wrong

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Those of you who returned to read why I’m so exhausted will have to wait another week because I had the bright idea to get some rest by going on vacation with some besties. This may, however, have been poorly thought out because I’m writing this at 2:30 in the morning and need to be up by 7:00. Best laid plans and all that…so until next week, enjoy this encore post.

Janet's avatarNow Don't Get Me Wrong

I realize today’s post will probably offend those of the male persuasion, but on behalf of women everywhere (or at least those who read this column and happen to agree with me), I feel it’s time to break the silence.

My intent today is not to insult men, but rather to enlighten them to Proper Behavioral Manners, henceforth known as PBMs. The perplexing male behavior I’m referring to is, specifically: (a) nose picking, (b) spitting, and (c) the ever popular crotch grabbing.

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You Can’t Trust Anyone

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I’m sitting on my sofa writing this, fighting off something intangible, unlike the pesky fly that buzzed around my face earlier today. (Which reminds me, what’s a fly doing still hanging around in October? Didn’t he get the memo it’s time to move on?) Anyway, what I’m fighting off today is exhaustion and I’m afraid it’s gaining the upper hand.

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Normally I write in my office where I usually house a feral foster kitten. When I’m too busy to hold the little munchkin, I sometimes socialize it with a wand toy in one hand while typing with the other. So finishing a blog post when I’m fostering can be long and tiresome, not unlike this election season.

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George, my latest foster

Anyway, I’d be in my office right about now but I don’t have the stamina to walk the 28 paces to get there. Yes, I actually counted. So I confess I wasn’t being honest just now because I actually walked the distance then came back to my cushy sofa to continue writing. Which brings me to the point of this week’s post; you can’t trust anyone. Continue reading →

The Hits Just Keep on Comin’

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I promise this will be my last Wally blog entry for a while. Now don’t get me wrong; I didn’t return him to the humane society. I’m not that cold-hearted. Frankly I’m surprised the idea even crossed your mind because it’s never crossed mine. But let me tell ya, I’m beginning to think Wally’s previous owner neglected to divulge some of the Wallster’s less desirable behaviors.

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Caught in the act

As you read last Sunday, Wally is challenged in a few areas: peeing and pooping in the house, not coming when called, chewing anything he can fit into his mouth, barking at strangers, car sickness, fear of rain, stealing food from my plate…

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Wally’s previous owner returned him saying his car sickness was a deal breaker since he planned to take Wally to work with him. To that I say phooey! And I never say phooey. My guess is he couldn’t handle the truth — Wally isn’t easy. These days I keep reminding myself nothing worthwhile ever is. Continue reading →

My Mutts Have Issues

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So my friend Annette and I decided to take our mutts to the beach for a day of frolicking in the sand, surf and sun. I only took 2 of my 4 monsters because Nellie’s old and might not make it out of the car before needing a nap and Callie is fear aggressive, an affliction which doesn’t translate well around people. Or other dogs. Or pretty much anything that moves. So Skip, Wally and I joined Annette and her perfectly behaved German Shepard, Tess.

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Let me just say there must be something wrong with me because my mutts have issues. I prefer to think they’re just flawed little creatures who zeroed in on my inclination for adopting not-so-perfect beings. Either that or I’m a crappy guardian.

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Nellie, however, is nearly perfect. Emphasis on nearly. She does have a tendency to use table corners as appetizers so that’s a check in the flawed box. Good luck finding a piece of wooden furniture in my home lacking her teeth impressions.

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Nellie’s favorite pastime

Continue reading →

The Great Escape

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So I recently relocated 4 young ferals as mousers to a property that on the surface seemed perfect. Still, I entertained little nagging doubts about the owner of the 700 acre ranch, winery and B&B. Yes, he said all the right things but was it because he thought it’s what I wanted to hear? I wondered, but ignored my hunch because the place seemed perfect for feral mousers. And it was. But HE surely wasn’t.

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We acclimate cats for 3 weeks in cages before releasing them. But when Mr. Jackass admitted he let the cats out after 10 days, he confirmed my reservations. Still, he assured me they were fine, eating a lot, everything’s hunky-dory…blah, blah, blah. So yeah, I wanted to believe him.

A couple weeks later I returned to collect our relocation supplies. That’s when I saw the magnitude of ignoring my hunch. Basically, the cats were starving. Turns out he barely fed them in the erroneous belief they’d be better hunters (the opposite of what I instructed). However, nobody can tell this guy anything so I immediately formulated a plan to recover the cats, knowing he’d resist.

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Continue reading →