Puppy Love

My dog is cheating on me.  He begs to go out then only stands in the drive and looks longingly at the neighbor’s house.  I do believe, if I allowed it, he’d  howl a serenade under the lady’s window.  A few times, she’s stopped to visit and pet him.  You’d think think she’d invited him into her life.  Puffing out his chest,  he peed impressively, then kicked up a huge cloud of dust. to show what a mighty fellow he is.  In all honesty, his bladder capacity is astounding since he’s a mastiff, but I don’t think it makes her want him more., nor does his habit of making a beeline to sniff her nether portions.

Worse yet, if he gets more than twenty feet ahead of me, he goes stone deaf.  Buzzy, my other dog, suffers the same malady.  Though we have a two-acre yard with plenty of poop room, they are both desperate to leave surprises for the neighbors.  Early on, I made sure they knew the perimeter of our yard.  Since then, they’ve both try not to go inside its boundaries.  If they got their heart’s desire, we’d be surrounded by a poop fence on all four sides ten feet just outside our property lines.  Buzzy’s deposits are offensive enough, but Croc’s leavings are mountainous.and would soon obscure the view if left to lie.  We’d be run out of the neighborhood if they got their wish.

Croc and the Great Chair Monster

 

This poor dog suffered a terrifying experience today.  While I was watering my strawberries, I fastened his leash to a patio chair.  Bud drove up and my other dog,  Buzzy , sounded the alarm.  Croc forgot he was tethered and took off to greet Bud, dragging the heavy metal patio chair shrieking like a banshee on the concrete behind him.   Panicked, he fled, bashing a few flower pots as the chair monster pursued him, screaming its rage.  It remained in hot pursuit all the way down the drive where it attacked the travel trailer and Jeep in its fury, while never loosening its grip on Croc.  The beast clung to him, trying to hang him up on my berry fence.  Finally, Bud and Buzzy caught up with him, but not until he made a pass through my rose garden, uprooting a couple unfortunate bushes before hanging up on a garden bench  He was panting and trembling before Bud finally wrested him from the grip of the chair monster.  Naturally, Buzzy was barking wildly the whole time, sure that would save his friend.  He drank a whole bowl of water and slept for three hours straight once he got back under air conditioning.

 

Bud is going to try to fix the chair tomorrow.  The flower pots were a total loss.  I don’t think the Jeep or travel trailer were damaged at all.  I’d hate to have to explain that damage to an insurance adjuster.

Conquering Corwin end Mother’s Bad Attitude Part 2

image . . Aunt Essie got her nose out of joint when her little guys came home bringing tales of how badly Uncle Bill had treated them, so he didn’t hear

was Qan affable enough guy. Q, though he must not have taken time to meet the boys before they married. He’d also married before and “wadn’ payin’ no child support. to that Q. Qwoman after the . w. ay she done me. Besides oldest ‘un never did look , that little https://. . / 2016/12/15/. / neither, if you git down to it.”

The long and short of it was, they needed to get the heck out of Dodge or her sweetie would have gone to jail. Like any landed gentleman of the South, Daddy had always maintained he’d a place for any of his sisters who fell on hard times. Desperately in need of a home, She magnanimously forgave. Daddy. Over Mother’s furious objections, he set up a mobile home on their farm for Aunt Essie and her family. The situation went downhill fast. Aunt Essie wore her slippers to check the mail and slid down. She asked Daddy for the name of a good lawyer so she could sue. He told her she’d have to move if she sued him, so she changed her mind. Her Bill had a heart attack within a month of the time they moved there. He never worked another day, leaving them penniless until his social security kicked in. Guess who supported them.  The good news was, he’d gotten an increase to his check when he and Aunt Essie got married, since he could lead claim her boys.  The bad news was, he had better things to spend it on than groceries and rent.

All that aside, they had the added joy of daily life with Corwin. Corwin quickly dropped out of school, a reasonable decision, since the only thing he was getting out of it was a bus ride and two free meals a day. When he got suspended for harassing little girls, it was a relief to everyone in the system. Bill and Aunt Essie went somewhere in Aunt Essie’s car one day. Wisely, Bill took his keys, knowing Corwin would certainly take off in his truck the minute he left. One of Daddy’s horses had died three or four days before. As farmers do, instead of burying it, he hitched the dead horse to his tractor and dragged it as far to the back of his place as he could, leaving it to the varmints. Corwin had been puzzling over whether or not the varmints had gotten to the horse carcass yet. Corwin showed some industry in hot-wiring the pick-up, but not in driving in the muddy fields. He got stuck and had to leave the truck buried up to the hubs next to the bloated horse. Bill was livid when he came in and found his truck missing. “Where in the Hell is my G—D—- Truck?”

“Stuck in the mud on the back of Uncle Bill’s place.”

“What in the Hell is it doing back there?”

“I drove it back there to see if see if that dead horse was stinkin’ yet.”

“Well, what in the Hell were you gonna’ do about it if it was?”

Aunt Essie had an infuriating little ankle-biting dog named Susie she kept in the house with her.  It yapped incessantly and snarled at anyone who got near Aunt Essie.  Mother and Daddy had never had a dog in the house, so Mother complained about Aunt Essie’s dog. “Let it go,” Daddy insisted.

The next weekend, Bill and Essie went out of town.  Aunt Essie wanted Mother to keep Susie, but Mother declined, not wanting a dog in her house.  It worked out fine.  Unbeknownst to Mother and Daddy, Aunt Essie left Susie alone.  Susie did a lot of house peeing, pooping, and wall-scratching scratching over the next four or five days locked up in the trailer.  Apparently the abandonment upset the poor dog’s digestion. The place smelled like a charnel house by the time they got back.

Not too long after this, Corwin and Kelvin were found to be growing a lucrative crop of marijuana on Daddy’s place.  Mother was infuriated and reported them.  They were arrested.  Aunt Essie got her nose out of joint about the arrest and moved off in a huff.    It’s a shame when families can’t get along.

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Blog: https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/

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A Dog and his Squeaky Toy

 Our pack is growing, one hundred three pounds to be exact. I was concerned Croc would bully Buzzy, but  needn’t have worried.  This gentle behemoth is desperate to play, frequently play-bowing and politely presenting his large behind for Buzzy’s sniffing “Howdy do?”.  Though Buzzy is normally social and thrilled to have canine guests, he wasn’t sure he wanted  Croc moving in, reminding Croc of the pecking order at every turn.  He has yet to “shake hands” with Croc, though they are playing happily.  Buzzy still occasionally snarls to remind Croc he was here first.

Below, you can see Croc with his grandmother.  They are about the same weight, but he has a lot more muscle.  He can ‘t get enough of her.  With her high, Minnie Mouse voice, he thinks she’s a squeaky toy.  See how he has his leg draped possessively over her?

 

Poopy Puppy on a Plane

Image courtesy of Pixabay

Had I met Snowball under different circumstances, I’m sure I would have found her adorable.  Sadly for our friendship, I met her on a crowded plane.  I heard about her before I saw her, listening  in on the conversation between the two passengers sitting between me and the aisle.

”Snowball never pooped when I put her down on her pee pee pad in the bathroom.  I know she has to go by now.”  Ms. Bozo worried as she crowded me closer to the window.

”She’ll be fine.  We can’t do anything about that now.” Mr. Bozo replied, placidly.

”I think you need to take her to the lavatory and put her down on a pad.”  Ms. Bozo insisted.  “I gave her a little laxative last night so she’d go this morning. She never did.   We don’t want her getting constipated again.  You remember what happened last time.”  That sounded ominous.

“I told you not to do that!” Mr. Bozo grouched. “You know how that works her.”  He got up and struggled to pull Snowflake’s carrier from under Ms. Bozo’s seat.  Ms. Bozo unzipped the opening and peeked in at Little Snowball.  The smell was bad news.  Desperate to escape the fetid air in the carrier, Snowball leapt to freedom, smearing Mr. and Ms. Bozo with feces on her way.  Snowball no longer looked snowy.  Ms. Bozo squealed and Bozo roared.  Snowball sprinted down the aisle, ducking between passenger’s feet, the stewardess in pursuit.

”Don’t hurt her!  She’s scared!” Shrieked Ms. Bozo.  “Snowball, come back to Mama!  Snowball! Snowball!

That Snowball could run. Darting in and out among the legs of the other passengers, she left a little of herself all along the way.   She got by Bozo and the stewardess several times.  Eventually  she was recaptured, looking much cleaner, courtesy of hapless passengers’ legs. Ms. Bozo tidied her up in the lavatory, so Snowball was in better shape than her disgruntled new acquaintance who took turns sponging off in the lavatory,.  They clearly held a grudge.

Soon, a miasma from Snowball’s befouled carrier beneath the seat began to reek. As the odor recirculated through the cabin, only the Bozos failed to notice.  Even after the stewardess had them stuff it in a garbage bag, the smell spread,  even crossing the curtain into first class.

It was not the best flight I ever had.

 

 

Dog’s Life

Our granddog, Croc, has a hard life.  In this photo, he is anxiously awaiting  the mail carrier.  So far, he has a one hundred percent success rate in chasing him off.  Please note the crocheted afghan he rests under.  Yes, I made it just for him.  Mornings are the best for him.  Protecting the house from the postal service is a great sacrifice since afterwards he has to sleep on top of his blanket unless someone happens by to cover him.

 

BEFORE

AFTER

 

The mail carrier has once again been vanquished, but as you can see, Though he has blankets, poor Croc is uncovered.  He has, however, acquired the baby’s favorite doll to comfort him.  He covets her snugglies, and given the opportunity, snitches them.  This fearsome beast is all that stands between us and the USPS.  Of course, he is not allowed on sofa.

 

Conquering Corwin and Mother’s Bad Attitude Part 2

imageAunt Essie got her nose out of joint when her little guys came home bringing tales of how badly Uncle Bill had treated them, so he didn’t hear from her till she fell on hard times a couple of years later. She had married her own fella named Bill by that time, strangely enough. This Bill was an affable enough guy, though he must not have taken time to meet the boys before they married. He’d also been married before and “wadn’ payin’ no child support to that whore of a woman after the way she done me. Besides that oldest ‘un never did look antyhing like me, ner that little one neither, if you git right down to it.”

The long and short of it was, they needed to get the heck out of Dodge or her sweetie would have gone to jail. Like any landed gentleman of the South, Daddy had always maintained he’d provide a place for any of his sisters who fell on hard times. Desperately in need of a home, She magnanimously forgave Daddy. Over Mother’s furious objections, he set up a mobile home on their farm for Aunt Essie and her family. The situation went downhill fast. Aunt Essie wore her slippers to check the mail and slid down. She asked Daddy for the name of a good lawyer so she could sue. He told her she’d have to move if she sued him, so she changed her mind. Her Bill had a heart attack within a month of the time they moved there. He never worked another day, leaving them penniless until his social security kicked in. Guess who supported them.  The good news was, he’d gotten an increase to his check when he and Aunt Essie got married, since he could lead claim her boys.  The bad news was, he had better things to spend it on than groceries and rent.

All that aside, they had the added joy of daily life with Corwin. Corwin quickly dropped out of school, a reasonable decision, since the only thing he was getting out of it was a bus ride and two free meals a day. When he got suspended for harassing little girls, it was a relief to everyone in the system. Bill and Aunt Essie went somewhere in Aunt Essie’s car one day. Wisely, Bill took his keys, knowing Corwin would certainly take off in his truck the minute he left. One of Daddy’s horses had died three or four days before. As farmers do, instead of burying it, he hitched the dead horse to his tractor and dragged it as far to the back of his place as he could, leaving it to the varmints. Corwin had been puzzling over whether or not the varmints had gotten to the horse carcass yet. Corwin showed some industry in hot-wiring the pick-up, but not in driving in the muddy fields. He got stuck and had to leave the truck buried up to the hubs next to the bloated horse. Bill was livid when he came in and found his truck missing. “Where in the Hell is my G—D—- Truck?”

“Stuck in the mud on the back of Uncle Bill’s place.”

“What in the Hell is it doing back there?”

“I drove it back there to see if see if that dead horse was stinkin’ yet.”

“Well, what in the Hell were you gonna’ do about it if it was?”

Aunt Essie had an infuriating little ankle-biting dog named Susie she kept in the house with her.  It yapped incessantly and snarled at anyone who got near Aunt Essie.  Mother and Daddy had never had a dog in the house, so Mother complained about Aunt Essie’s dog. “Let it go,” Daddy insisted.

The next weekend, Bill and Essie went out of town.  Aunt Essie wanted Mother to keep Susie, but Mother declined, not wanting a dog in her house.  It worked out fine.  Unbeknownst to Mother and Daddy, Aunt Essie left Susie alone.  Susie did a lot of house peeing, pooping, and wall-scratching scratching over the next four or five days locked up in the trailer.  Apparently the abandonment upset the poor dog’s digestion. The place smelled like a charnel house by the time they got back.

Not too long after this, Corwin and Kelvin were found to be growing a lucrative crop of marijuana on Daddy’s place.  Mother was infuriated and reported them.  They were arrested.  Aunt Essie got her nose out of joint about the arrest and moved off in a huff.    It’s a shame when families can’t get along.

 

BUY my book: https://www.amazon.com/Everything-Smells-Just-Like-Salad-ebook/dp/B01IVUXROQ

How to connect with Linda

Blog: https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/bethea_linda

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Young Boy Recuperating from Surgery Eaten by Beagle (Kind of) Wouldn’t this make a great headline?

Many years ago, my young son picked his toenails till he got them infected. He also had an adoring beagle who made his every step, especially when John was snacking and likely to drop crumbs. I don’t think John ever had to pick anything up. In most cases, that’s good, but not necessarily since Spotty spent a good bit of her time dancing on his sore toes. Eventually, John required toenail removal. Surgery went fine, and in the way of small boys, John proudly saved the excised tissue to show his dad, once he got in. Spotty never left his side. John convalesced on the sofa with his poor foot on a pillow all afternoon, admiring his sore toe, his toe remnant, and calling out for games and snacks. As you might expect, long before his dad got home, he dropped his trophy. Ever faithful, Spotty snapped it up before it hit the floor. Both recovered, though John was heartbroken. To the best of my knowledge, that’s the last body part Spotty ever snacked on.toe 2<img

Can You Top This?

I got my daughter a Dalmatian for her thirteenth birthday. I do believe that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. For about a day and a half, Annie was sweet. As soon as she got her bearings,she became a hyperactive, maniacal buzz saw, plundering and eviscerating everything in her path from shoes to the rag top on my husband’s MG, but that’s a story for another post.

At eighteen months, Annie’s hormones kicked in. Overnight, she was transformed into a nasty-tempered, sullen,farting, bitch…..such a blessed relief. One day she was sitting between Bud and Mother farting up a storm. Bud and Mother each kept looking accusingly at the other, thinking surely the other would eventually do the decent thing and excuse themselves.

Deciding to take her show on the road one morning, Annie decided the best thing for her to do was to tunnel under our neighbor’s back fence to pay him a call. Brian wasn’t in the yard, so she trotted into the house looking for him. He was deep in thought, sitting on the toilet, enjoying some quality time. Inspired by his wise example, Annie squatted and produced a fine example of her own. Though I didn’t see the actual event, I did get to hear about it in great detail.