All Mah Doggies!

FoodLady Chronicles – Dear all mah doggies edition:

Dear Dobby, you are annoyingly confident at home. Yes, annoyingly. Yet, the real world causes you great trepidation. Could you pretty please add both sides of your personality and divide by two? Also, continue being adorable – it has kept me from killing you.

Dear Humphrey, duuuuuuude. You have turned into like 89% of a great dog. I LOVE how much you LOVE people and how you get all serene and happy when a baby is pulling on your ears and face; seriously, all of that is wonderful. Less wonderful is that you have now decided that the generator noise is super scary and now, after well over a month of intermittent generator use, you refuse to go outside to the poopin’ yard to, well, “go” if one is running. Instead, you leave toilet clogging (literally) presents directly in front of the OPEN door often with an adjacent liquid surprise. I will continue taking you out separately until fence is built, because…

Dear SamSam, please continue being awesome. You have just turned 5 and have entered the glorious age of no-longer-an-asshole. You deserve all the belly rubs and tennis balls.

Dear Ziesa, you are the baby. I know other people see a big strong dog, but to me you just look like a itty bitty wittle princess. I truly believe you are the soul of a teacup purse dog trapped in a 60lb boxerbull body. Continue being adorable and weird.

Love, FoodLady.


Dammit Dobby!

FoodLady Chronicles – Dammit Dobby Edition:

I gave him a plastic toy which he was gleefully destroying while I wrote work emails. I could hear the happy chewy plastic noises, it didn’t even occur to me he had moved onto the next item. My item. My Bluetooth ear buds that I use to listen to audiobooks while I fall asleep, or as I call them: my nubbins.

Rest In Peace right nubbin and most of charging case, you were loved.

*in tune of “off to see the wizard” begins singing*, “🎶…we’re off to kill the Dobby, the disastrous Dobby of doom…🎶”

[Unlike beloved electronics, no actual Dobby’s were killed or maimed due to, or because of, any topics discussed in this post and any wounding, death, and/or maiming which occur following this post is to be considered completely coincidental and accidental.]

WTF Birds?

Okay, so…Monday was a mourning dove (pigeon) and Wednesday was a starling (I think?). Why. Are. Birds. Coming. Into. My. House?! Note: no animals were harmed during these bird intrusion and release events. Although my beloved idiot dogs now keep wandering around staring at the ceiling hoping against hope that another bird will begin flapping excitedly.


Dear Humphrey,

Dude. I understand that it’s raining and that your 100lb butt is truly a delicate flower whose main skill appears to be slurping humans when we least expect it, but did you have to poop right in front of the open door? Also, what possible canine joy could have come from managing to land that chihuahua-sized log perfectly centered on the extension cord?

I think I might hate you.



Stupid Jerk Bird

FoodLady Chronicles – nope/no/nuh-uh edition.

I hear you. Please leave.

Just trying to do some work emails here. I do not have time for this.

Dear pigeon/mourning dove, only death for you lives here. This is not your place. Please fly right back out that door.

*walking into bedroom*

Goddammit, get off my bed.

Why. Why is this happening?

*chases it outside*


Edited to Update: stupid bird came back.
I had chased it outside earlier, but apparently it decided to embrace it’s inner jerk and come back? This time we did a capture & release.

Rodentia War – v1.

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!!!

Good Morning Dogs!

Dear SamSam, Dobby, Hump

Dear assholes,

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!

Virgin Islands FoodLady Tour

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.



FoodLady Chronicles – Day is Done!

This day can suck a….err, this day needs to be over now.

To be fair, this wasn’t a *bad* day, just a LONG day with *way* too much human interaction and adulting in it followed by some awkward wild animal interactions.

Here are some highlights:

  • Went to get fasting bloodwork done. They informed me that my total was going to be $597.51. I articulately asked, “huh?” They informed me that my insurance needed a code written on the form. I took the form to ask doctor about it later.
  • Breakfast was tasty.
  • Pimped out the program I work for on a Spanish radio station. I *really* need to learn Spanish.
  • Doctors appointment.
  • Went to bookstore and bought myself “The Doggist.” excellent photo book.
  • Ordered lunch, after receiving lunch neighboring table had questions about the program I work for, so instead of eating said lunch, pimped out program I work for while lunch looked at me deliciously.
  • Nutritionist Appointment – yep, I know what I’m supposed to do, it’s the doing it part that sucks. Bright side, bloodwork form fixed.
  • Long drive home, listened to music, glad the day is over and going home to play fetches with fuzzies. (spoiler: day wasn’t over)
  • Home, released hounds, begin exciting tennis ball flinging with the “thing-longer” (aka chuck-it). Notice two dogs standing next to chair (this was odd) so I walk to chair and see a cattle egret sitting on the chair (this was odder). Ziesa and Humphrey wanted to play with it, Sam & Dobby were too into tennis balls to notice, and Piper was just standing back and waiting to see what was going to happen. I just stood there for a solid 60 seconds not quite sure what to do. After about 45 seconds Sam and Dobby realized, “holy shit! there’s a bird on the chair!” Shockingly, they all listened to my “leave it!” command (I know! I was equal parts impressed and surprised) and then when I put it close, the bird hopped onto the thing longer (aka chuck-it). So, now I’m wandering around the yard with a bird on a freaking ball-throwing stick with five freaking dogs following me around sure that at any second that I will fling the bird. I check his wing, his left wing is fine but his right has a wound at where the wing meets body. Well, hell. So I walk in the house with the damn bird on the damn thing longer and luer my idiots behind me like a freaking pied piper, grab a towel before securing the dogs, then cover the bird and get in the car. Off I zoom to the I-know-it’s-closed-but-please-be-there-YAY-they’re-there vet clinic. YAY! they agreed to treat/take the egret (bless them!) but asked for my help putting him in a cage. Cockily I assume the wounded and incredibly freaked out wild animal and I have come to a “thing-longer” arrangement and imagine my surprise when he decides to hop off my magical bird stick/tennis ball launcher and awkwardly waddle through the entire clinic while I ineffectually attempt to capture him using a towel. I eventually caught him and we got him into a cage; he will get checked by the vet in the morning.
  • Returned home and finished playing fetches with fuzzies and am now seriously considering just going to bed.