World, meet Zippy; Zippy, meet world. For no good reason, I am remarkably invested in Zippy’s health and well-being and have brought him bugs because his tail is skinnier than I would like. Yes, I know this is weird. ❤❤❤
Me: *on toilet*
Dogs: *begin going batshit crazy*
Me: *various loud profanities*
Dogs: *take turns running to me while continuing batshit craziness*
Me: *pull up pants and continue profanities while stomping to find out what the *profanity* the *profanity* problem is.*
Dogs: *end is nighe crazy continues*
Me: “ooooh! Horsie-friend!” *Grab carrots, zip outside.* “Hi, horsie-friend! Wanna carrot? Horsie-friend?! Why you leaving?! Come back!! I have carrots! Awwww!” *sadly flashes back to every kitty I have ever chased around while channeling my inner Elmira and walk back to the house*
Dogs: *chest-bumping and high-pawing each other* “Did you see our FoodLady?!! She scared the cologne/snack right outta that horsie-interloper!”
Me: …..and my day has begun.
This is Dobby, he is an unquestionable pain-in-the-ass. What’s interesting is that him being the destroyer of all things and a rampant pain is what will save my life.
Putting aside the whole diabetes blood sugar ups and downs thing for which his scent training has paused while we recover from the hurricane; I get depressed. Yes, it is normal to be upset following a hurricane, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the kind of depression that makes it hard for me to get out of bed. I’m appropriately medicated, but that fun little vacation we took to Washington that lasted three times longer than it was planned for did *not* help with the stabilization of the feels.
So, if I lie here and try to rest (aka-forget the world in sleep) having a 50lb pibble vibrating with energy next to the bed ready to find that next adventure keeps me going.
So, given that he has been farting up a storm next to me it appears to be time to go for a potty break…or at least find a gas mask.
There he is, keeping me going again….*grin*
Ziesa stood half-on the couch and half-off for about 3 minutes (first photo) and when I finally said her name she gave me some glorious side-eye that clearly stated, “don’t judge me lady!” or something else not as nice. (second photo).
Dear MouseRat, you are an Asshole.
No, seriously….you are.
You are *not* a lizard or a bird, you have a sphincter and therefore I know that MouseRat turd left in the middle. of. my. bed. was an act of war. Just one turd. Dead center. Asshole.
I will find you and I will kill you.
Unless you want to go live outside and never come back in, in which case… bygones.
But, other than that, death to you and any of your comrades!!!
Dear SamSam, Dobby, Hump
I am aware you were left alone for 15 hours yesterday. I am thrilled you survived. It must have been HORRIBLE to nap and snack at your leisure.
I understand you all need attention, but working as a team and sitting on top of me to get me moving felt a little excessive. A special jerk shoutout goes to Dobby who decided to sit ON MY HAIR (owie!) with an additional opportunist award going to Piper who licked my face while my hair was pinned (ewww!) (I came up swingin!).
I managed to get one adorable picture of the happiest SamSam who declared it needed to be Fetchin’ Time! by solidly squashing me.
Good morning world, the dogs are FEISTY!
I am very sorry the thunder has made you nervous. Perhaps I could soothe you better if you let me breathe?
Unknown dog vomited on rug.
Cut that part off of rug and threw it away.
FoodLady Chronicles – Virgin Islands Tour Edition: Y’all, yesterday kicked my (adorable) butt. I literally woke up tired this morning and the torrential rainy weather is not helping me get all motivated to do stuffs either. Regardless, there are always stuffs to do and mud pits to dig…oh wait, the dogs are all over that last thing. Yesterday I was privileged enough to be sent for work all the way to St. John (for those unfamiliar, this involved a sea plane to St. Thomas and then a ferry to St. John). This was my very first visit to St. John and I can’t really say that I saw that much of it but it seems adorable. My husband, just as tired as I was yesterday, asked me what I thought of it and my reply was, “….I saw a LOT of wealthy people.” It really is a gorgeous little island with, from what I could see, a LOT of healthy, happy, and loved dogs. That was kind of freaking wonderful to see. ❤
****** random rooster break******
Humprey just galumphed by the office window chasing the evil 3 AM who (unfortunately) made it over the neighbor’s fence. I know, it’s not very nice of me to wish that rooster harm, but he really is an asshole.
So, because I’m me I had a small Ziploc bag of Ziwi Peak dog food in my pocket (why? you don’t? how odd…). I could go into the gloriousness of Ziwi Peak dog food – but I honestly use it for treats for the following reasons: I can’t afford to feed it as food; it is a great food that you can break into teeny tiny pieces for treats; it has yet to ever make any dog gastrointestinally upset; I have yet to meet any animal that doesn’t LOVE it.
After driving around looking for a place for about an hour, we stopped this lovely woman walking her wee-little-STJ-dog to ask for directions. While my coworker discussed with her where we were going, wee-little-STJ-dog and I had some fun: he sat, he danced, we both wiggled – it was a party. That leads to us getting to where we were going and meeting TWO OTHER DOGS!
********random dog behavior note*********
It really is all about how you meet the dog. If dogs make you nervous or in any way scared, they pick up on that within seconds. The co-worker I was with yesterday is very small in stature and I think the large dogs may have made her slightly nervous. The two dogs seemed to pick up on that and were slightly bullying towards her. When we first got there they growled just a tiny bit until they heard me make happy happy noises; they were not acting in any way inappropriate – just feeling us out and protecting their home. But then they met me with the treats and the happy happy and they were SUPER excited.
Anywhoodle, I met me an adult Labradoodle and a 6 month old other-island-rescue. The ‘doodle was a loving yet regal ‘doodle and the puppy had legs made of springs. I love them.
We left there and were heading back to the ferry when we stopped the car because there was a large, healthy, and joyfully free boxer RUNNING in our direction dragging his leash. I mean, full on running – he wasn’t running towards us, he was just running as fast as he could. I opened the door and hopped out and tried to entice him. He stopped for a few seconds, but then “Nope, sorry Lady! Got things!” and kept a’runnin! He stopped again when I did a few play bows, but nope – I think he may have had a girl-dog up the hill “calling” to him. So, we continued on about 500 feet and there was a man with another dog in the car looking around, we pulled up and asked him, “are you looking for a large boy boxer dog?” Yes he was, we told him which direction his wayward canine was headed and the man thanked us and grumbled, “he is *such* an asshole!” and headed off to find his dog. My coworker looked a little shocked that the guy would call his dog an asshole whereas I was feeling a deep and real kinship with this guy and his beloved asshole(s).
Made it back to St. Thomas seaplane and then flew home to St. Croix. I was so happy to be close to home I was rocking out to some music on my headphones while walking to the car.
**MUSICROCKWOOOmeowMUSICMUSICROCKmeeeeeoooooowMUSIC** I take out a headphone and say, “uh….kitty?” “MEEEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!” I look around and articulately say, “uh…..” and out pops a wee kitten head from the tire of a taxi bus. “fuck,” I say. And thus begins the great kitten wrangling adventure of yesterday.
I busted out the dog treats and my fancy cat call of, “here kitty kitty.” Shockingly, kitty kitty came closer. I (stupidly) assumed this meant the kitty wanted to snuggle. Ha! Kitty done levitated 5 feet up and 5 feet back when I touched her. Hoping there was a magical trick to catching said kitty I contacted the local cat catch, spay/neuter, release super hero and she advised scruffing the cat if I had anything to put her in when I caught her. At this point I had convinced the cat to crawl into a bucket to eat, but she meant something secure where I wouldn’t end up dealing with a flying whirlwind of claws and pain while I drove.
Once I had little kitty all distracted and eating, Big Daddy showed up saunters over and sprays my tire. He also enjoyed a few nibbles of dog treats before he sauntered off to spray other vehicles.
okay then, it appears Big Daddy Cat has fully embraced his inner asshole. Superhero cat-catcher lady drives over with traps and she manags to snaggle both critters into traps and into her car just as another downpour starts. Both kitties will be fixed and released. Woooo!
When I finally got home, the dogs were FASCINATED by the lady who, based on the amount of sniffing that occurred, smelled amazing.
It turns out I run a canine flophouse.