from the porches

turkey what?

This afternoon I looked toward the above ground swimming pool from my side porch and shouted, "We have wild turkeys at the pool!"

Well, stupid me!  After looking closer. I realized those birds were not wild turkeys!

 
No!  I had five turkey vultures eating something from my yard.  I really wanted these birds to be wild turkeys; but, the more photographs I took, I had to acquiesce. 

These were not wild turkeys.  They were turkey vultures!  Gross!  And then I wondered, "What in the world are they eating?  Molly, my yard cat?  Oh, no!  Could it be that horrid black and white male cat that inseminated every female it could do it to?"

Alas!  These five vultures were not wild turkeys roaming my property pecking at insects.

These turkey vultures were devouring a squirrel. 

And then I thought about Molly, my yard cat who is a wonderful hunter. . . and then I thought about Tippy, my favorite squirrel with the white tip on her tail.

I said a silent prayer for that squirrel that the vultures were eating not to be Tippy; the only squirrel Mom and I have ever named. 

So I walked out to the turkey vultures and realized, the squirrel carcass was not Molly; and I felt all better. I even felt all better that it was not the mangy black and white daddy cat that inseminated all of my female kittens for years.

In the end, I had no choice but to release two barking daschunds into the fenced in area to frighten the turkey vultures off of our property.  

I really wanted to see five wild turkeys.  But that didn't happen. Nope.  In the end all I got was "Yap! Yap! Yap!" from two wonderful dogs! 

keeping it real

Out of all the things I do during a day, there are a few things that help keeping my life real.  Roger, for one.  This cat rules my house.  Open the door . . . Roger goes out.  Open the door . . .Roger comes in.  Roger is in complete control, which becomes very aggravating when I feel stressed out.

Sometimes I think I may be affecting Roger's psyche, especially, when I scream, " Okay!  Get out, you STUPID CAT!"    However, Roger seems so unaffected.  Thank you, Roger.
In the meantime, my mother and I have spoiled two puppies.

Lord, have mercy on our souls! 

Hey, I am just trying to keep it real.

 

 

we've done it now

Yes, Mom and I have done it now.  We have fattened up our puppies, who are not really puppies anymore, even though we still call them puppies.

Yep! Lily, the short-haired daschund, must weigh at least twenty pounds by now. 

I blame Mom for giving our puppies "cookies" just because they are so cute.

But this week I heard Mom blame me.  That's right!  Mom told Tina, Truett's daughter, that I spoil the puppies and give them cookies all the time.  That's not true, but I don't have the energy to fight.

It doesn't matter who is right or wrong.  What matters now is that my mother cannot pick up Lily, the short-haired puppy because she is too heavy.  So I now leave notes to Mom that if the puppies poop or pee on the floor while I'm at the hospital visiting Truett, I will clean it up when I get home, because I know Lily is too heavy for Mom to put her in her pen.

Yes, in our time of stress, we reward our puppies. 

"Cute puppy! Want a cookie?"

"Good dog!  Here's a cookie!"

Yes, we've done it now! 

Mom and I!

spare the rod & spoil the child

 
Someone recently said, "You never write about your puppies.  You only post pictures of your cats."  I thought about that for a while and wondered why I don't write about my puppies.  It didn't take long to realize that my puppies are now dogs . . . spoiled dogs.  I'm sure you're curious about why they are so spoiled, so I'm laying it out there. . . Ms. Alice, aka, my mama!

 
 But, I shouldn't blame her entirely.  No.  I, too, have babied these dogs for one year and four months; and  now we are all paying for it.  This afternoon I had a friend stop by and casually suggested we walk out on the side porch to get a clearer picture of the swimming pool.

WRONG!

The puppies were outside and came bounding in barking and barking and yapping and yapping; so I screeched to my friend, "Stand still while I catch them." 

Once again. . .WRONG! 

I chased and chased and finally yelled, "Brenda, run in that door while I catch them!"

Folks, I am so bad.  My puppies (dogs) are so bad.  But, that's not true either.  They're not really bad.  They're just spoiled rotten and protective.  One reason is because we rarely get visitors.   Better yet, it could be the German lineage they have.  Who knows? 

Anyway, my friend got away without any dog nipping her heels; but, nevertheless, I felt terrible.  Do you think, "BAD DOG!" meant anything to these two daschunds?  Not on your life!

 
Maggie and Lily recently had their yearly check-ups and we were warned, "They're putting on a little weight.  They need to be lean dogs." 

HA!  

Sometimes I see my mother sneaking table food to these two precious angels and I say, "I hope you're not giving them table food." 

"Just a tad," she says. 

But, I know the truth.

However,I don't care about that so much.  I care about having calm, respectful dogs.  Ones that listen when I shout, "STOP!"  Not ones that hightail it down the hall toward Ms. Alice's bedroom for safety.

Maggie, the long haired daschund, is terrified of storms, so my mother protects her.  Tonight, during the storm, I found Lily standing in her pen all alone, whining.  Then it dawned on me. . .a dog is missing.  So I marched to mama's room and said, "Give me the dog.  Lily is out there all alone and needs comfort too."  Mama rustled under her covers and Maggie popped out.

 
Tomorrow I'm having a domino party and there will be eleven guests here.  Aready I'm freaking out.  "Do I put the puppies (dogs) in the back room?   Do I keep them outside in the heat and humidity?" 

I know one thing.  If it were up to Truett, he would say, "Shoot them if they keep barking!"  But do you want to know a secret?  One year and four months ago my husband said, "Let's buy a puppy."  And when we went to look at them, he said, "We've got to have two."

So here we are I am. . . with two spoiled puppies dogs.

I'm thinking tomorrow I'll hide two spoiled puppies in Ms. Alice's bedroom.

This household lives by the saying spare the rod and spoil the child!

Unfortunately!

this one's for you

 
When my sister, Susan, was visiting us from Germany last March, she went with Truett and me to pick out daschund puppies.  Susan calls Mom almost every week and always asks about Lily and Maggie.  Well, Susan.  Lily and Maggie are almost grown dogs now. In fact, they have been spayed. 

 
Lily is the larger of the two puppies.  Normally, she is the most aggressive; but lately tends to be shy, especially around people. 

 
On the other hand, Maggie is friendly with people, but very mischievous.  Mom and I have learned that when the house is quiet and the puppies are not on the couch with us, then we'd better hurry and find Maggie.  She loves to chew the stuffing out of an old couch I have.  I always reprimand her, but she knows my words have no bite.

So, Susan.  This post is for you.

a gentle giant

Today we lost our Australian Shepherd, Bubba.

Bubba was a good dog.

No, that's not right.  Bubba was a great dog.

He was not a barker like his sister, Annie.

He was not hyper like his brother, Cody.

My niece, Tiffany, qualified Bubba as a "Gentle Giant", and he was that.

Bubba has had problems with his hips for the past couple of years and could barely walk.  I gave him meds daily to ease his pain.

Oftentimes I would tease him and say, "Come on Bubba.  Run!  I know you can do it!"

And Bubba would hobble toward me as fast as he could with that smile on his face and love in his eyes.

We will all miss you, Bubba.  Especially my grandchildren who have had to push you aside because you wanted to be loved by all. 

But the one good thing about Bubba was his name.  It was easy for toddlers to say.  Now I will tell you a secret.  His real name was Casey.

Somehow the name,Bubba, fit his personality better.

RIP Bubba George. 

We miss you already.
 
 

pfttt!

Maggie and Lily have me trained.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, "I could snap my fingers and every child in my classroom would sit at attention and say 'Yes, mam'."   

But now I have a bigger challenge before me.  Two adorable dachshund puppies.  Two adorable dachshund puppies that do not come to me when I call their names.

Yes, I have two adorable puppies that escape when I put them outside.  They head toward the gate opening and in a flash, one zips through my legs and lopes toward the big yard.  The yard with the yard kittens.  The yard that has openings leading under our house where there are fleas and possibly snakes.

"Bad puppy!" is all I scream these days; and now I fear it is too late. Now I wonder how I un-train two adorable dachshund puppies.

Maggie and Lily are like toddlers controlling my life.  People ask, "So.  How is retirement and I let out a big,"Pfttt!" 

Every morning I wake up, quietly open the bedroom door, and tip-toe to the kitchen for my cup of coffee.  "Quietly," I think to myself. 

But these two puppies pop up and start leaping like jumping beans and start that whining.  Truett chuckles because obviously Maggie and Lily are my dogs and not his.  He doesn't suggest, "Here.  I'll let them out."  Nope.  He just chuckles. Pfttt!

When the house gets extraordinarily quiet, I pause and think, "Puppies!" 

Then I find their latest mess.  Just like toddlers.  Obviously, this piece of wicker is on its last leg and is about ready to be hauled to the dump, or better yet, given to Clay.  He'll take anything.

 

 So once again I become a screaming meme!  "Bad puppies!" 

 Pfttt!

It's not all bad, however. 

When Maggie and Lily are asleep, they are adorable.  So adorable, in fact, that I can't help but stroke their ears and kiss their little brown heads.

 
 

Just like I did with my toddler babies many years ago.  It's odd isn't it.  Just like 36 years ago, I yearn for naptime from my babies, regardless of their species.

And all is forgiven until tomorrow when the cycle begins again.

Pfttt!
 
 
 
 
 
 

the puppies are staying

Dear sweet Roger. 

All innocent looking. 

All loving and kind.

WRONG! 

Roger is NOT being sweet at all to Maggie and Lily, the puppies. 

As soon as I let the puppies out of their pen this morning, Roger was on the attack. 

He perches on the chair backs and stalks them like a lion.

He watches them and bounds off the chair back onto the floor, charging on tippy toes, back arched.

Usually, the puppies run, but this morning was a different story.

I heard a loud YELP!

Roger had evidently swatted Lily, the bravest of the two puppies; and both puppies had scattered to the living room.

Roger steals the puppy food from their pen.

Roger hovers over the toys as if to say, "They're ALL mine!"

Well, Roger.  I've got news for you old buddy.

THE PUPPIES ARE STAYING SO GET USED TO IT!
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

thank goodness for fresh air

Finally!

Finally, we have the side yard fenced in so Maggie and Lily can get fresh air and go potty outside.

Recently I told Truett I had several things stressing me out and PUPPIES were number 1.  It seemed all I was doing was putting them out of their indoor pen, changing puppy pads, playing with them, putting them back in the pen, taking them out, changing puppy pads. . .all day long.

Now, since the puppies have a yard to play in, one of my stresses has been removed.

 Today I left the puppies in the yard for almost two hours.  To be honest, I forgot about them; and when I finally let them in the house, Lily fell asleep in my arms.

That has always been my rule about children as well . . . put them outside to play and long afternoon naps are a given.

Thank goodness for fresh air!

  
 

the fox

The fox lies there peacefully.

The fox is resting.

The fox is recuperating.

WATCH OUT FOX!

Oh, No!  

Lily grabbed the fox!

Poor Fox.

Fox is being pulled in two directions.

"Squeak!" goes the fox as razor sharp teeth dig into its fur.

 

Maggie is tired.

Fox is exhausted.

Rest up, Fox!

*****************************************************

Now how about the TRUTH?

Maggie and Lily are spoiled...spoiled...spoiled!

They love to be let out of their puppy pen in the house and should be house broken by now, but... but...but...We've been busy. 

I know that's a lousy excuse, especially since Truett and I both signed on for this project...puppies.  But my question is : Where is my help?

Also, I may need to call the Dog Whisperer to train my puppies to  walk on a leash.  All they want to do is lay down in the gravel, quite content to let me drag them (only an inch or so) and then they are lifted up and carried back to the house.

I pay Clay minimum wages.

Oh, alright!  Wages high enough to buy a pack of cigarettes to sit out back in the puppy tent to let Maggie and Lily get fresh air. 

I would do it, but the mosquitoes are almost as big as the hawks, so I pay Clay to do it, and it's worth every penny.

Meanwhile, the real love of my life. 

The one and only Roger, the main character from Roger and the Refrigerator, watches from the back porch and wonders why in tarnation those silly dogs get to go outside and play and he doesn't.

Good question, Roger.