Happy Leap Year to you…
From Baby and Lilian of Fort Doberdale.
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Helen
What can I say? I needed a laugh.
Guess who!
————
Helen
Yesterday, Baby turned into an expert at doing the recall. She did. Everytime I called her, she came. She waited before I told her to finish/heel. I think the chicken tenders may have been just the tool I needed to express to her how extremely important this exercise is to us in the scheme of things.
After having had seen Baby’s consistent recall capabilities, I’ve decided to don her “The Recall Specialist.” This not only gives her another title, which she likes, but when I call her that, I get a feeling of calm. Yes, that works.
Here she is. Baby, The Recall Specialist!
That’s me!
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Helen
People Plan, God Laughs…that about sums up yesterday evening.
I got home and had all the dinner preparations in motion, as planned, when I opened the front door. The rice cooker had the rice cooked and warming, the 18 eggs with chopped Shitakes were beaten and chilling in the fridge, and cheese slices were stacked and ready to be plopped and melted onto the top of the mounds of dinners. All I had to do was go through the process of putting dinner together (30 minutes), doling out the bowls (10 minutes), and getting Baby and me in the truck to go to the Rodeo Arena for our Drill class (15 more minutes). I had about 30 minutes to spare for poop pick-ups, water bowl duty, and miscellaneous happenings.
One part transpired exactly as I planned it and when I planned it to happen. I opened the front door. The rest … eww.
The odor that met me at the door was reminiscent of doo-doo. And it didn’t take long for it to overtake me, and I didn’t have far to go to find the source. Lilian’s crate, right by the back door. Actually, and don’t tell me dogs aren’t brainiacs to some degree (like when it suits themselves), Lilian had turned rear end to the crate door and let her rip. She had diarrhea, OK? It was the most unpleasant thing to say the least.
After I went into my own drama queen scene, that was to get un-crated friends of Lilian to back away from the area, I grabbed the roll of heavy duty towel papers, a plastic bag, and got to work. Originally, I held my breath, but that was a bad idea. When I thought I would faint from lack of oxygen, I had to open my mouth to gasp for air. No, not a good idea.
I couldn’t open the back door yet because the other dogs would have charged through “it” to get out. The fresher air would have been nice, but the extra paws to clean were highly undesirable. Not to mention the pavers and ugh! No, I just suffered through that first part of the clean-up, and made sure everyone knew I was suffering. Oh, I’m good at groaning and ranting when it comes down to stuff like this.
Once I completed that little song-and-dance, I opened the door, and after the stampede, I turned Lilian around. She was still in her crate-on-wheels trying to maintain that princess Lilian look.
After the crate door was facing out, I opened it, and she sprung out. Glad to be free from, well, you know. And she had to go some more. Eegads!
I rolled the crate outside and started working feverishly on cleaning. The blankey was relatively untouched. Remember, she aimed it all outside the crate. But the Nylabone was touched. I put the blankey in the washer, and got the hose and soap and rinsed rinsed rinsed rinsed rinsed. Sometime around that point, I got the shakes. Yessum, that’s when I knew my plans – the ones I had all weekend to take Baby to drill class and work her recalls to the bone – the ones I pan fried special chicken treats for – the ones I was looking forward to all weekend – those plans were out that window.
I pushed Lilian’s crate back in the house, ate some canned chicken and Abuelita Corn Tortilla Chips, drank juice/seltzer, whatever, I knew it was going to take an hour for me to get back to “normal.” I persevered, though. Finished making the dinners, and by the time I got to the part where I was doling out the bowls, I just wanted to collapse somewhere. And I did. For all of 3 minutes before Raven started screaming from her crate. I didn’t have the umpf to stuff a Kong with banana to quell her savage beast long enough for everyone to finish their dinners. So I screamed back, but sooner or later (OK, sooner) I figured it was better to just get up and let her out. I did that.
By then, my driving time to the arena had been cut into and I was still not feeling well enough to rush around and pack everyone in their crates while I take off with Baby Puss Diva. So I ended up staying home, reviving, pouting and worrying the heck out of myself.
What will Baby do at the dog obedience trial on Saturday? Will she come when I call her in on the recall? Will she sit there and look up trying to figure out if she heard someone say something? Will she run out of the ring (again)? Now I know why I’m having acid reflux enough to cause this, that, and the other, which in turn gives me the shakes.
I guess Lilian was feeling left out being she hasn’t been blogged about recently.
I was thinking that last night. I would have rather not gone through this, however. If all she wanted was a little blog space, I’d be happy to give it to her!
<sigh>
What will Baby do on Saturday?
Eeegads!
Helen
The first thing I saw as I stepped out the back door this morning were several or more members of the FDSP, a sub-section now dubbed the Fort Doberdale Rat Posse being they were hunting one. I think it’s that blasted papaya tree rat. It was under a tightly packed bunch of folded boxes, which are wrapped in plastic and up on 3-inch planter stands. This is for when the big day comes and the house sells.
Meanwhile, the entire FDRP was on one side of this stack, and what comes out the other side and towards me? The rat! It was a fat rat! OmG! I think it’s a pregnant one. The only Posse member who saw it was Luigi, and I’m on the fence as to whether he’s a Rat Posse member or not. Believe me, he’s not THAT much of a ratter. OK, he did follow it. Not by moving his body, though, by moving his head. He then took a minute – a long minute – to sniff the spot it walked across. This stalling procedure, I believe was insurance that he wouldn’t have to actually touch it for reals.
The rat waddled. It was HUGE! I could hope it was all the papaya she snorts in, but I am saying neigh neigh neigh to the coin dropped into that wishing well. That thing waddled right through all the yard paraphernalia in its path, and under a slab of concrete which my air conditioning unit sits on. There was a hole there. Now there is a concrete brick against the hole, my brave self managed to put down while sweating thinking that rat was gonna jump out and bite me. It didn’t.
All I can say is the FDRP need a lot of work on their tracking and hunting skills of non-squirrels. They do really well with blimps and squirrels, but when it comes down to ground varmints, their tracking skills lag behind. It took them minutes of sniffing the box pile to realize the trail led across the path to the a/c. By then, I had the hole blocked. I am hoping that thing stays under there where she will rest in peace forever. The owl who owns the territory in this area, including my back yard, is remiss over this papaya eating mama, and I’m going to have a talk with it next time we meet.
Besides rats, we have ticks here at Fort Doberdale. I’ve been spending the last few weeks working on this problem. Today, I rounded it out by stopping at Home Depot for yard spray being the dogs and the house have been treated. The customer service dude told me that ticks have been a big problem here for the last 3 years. Would that coincide with the hurricanes? Or could it be a combination of my new mulch and wild varmints and neighboring kitty cats and the rodeo arena we visit? Whatever the case, it was a day of shopping and spraying, and worst of all, inhaling that stuff. It’s done. I hope to goodness it works. Those ticks love my old mann … Regis.
And Luna is really peeved about the whole thing. She hates ticks as much as anyone. Yes, she does.
Later on, it rained. This was a pleasant surprise as I’m always looking at innocent ways to get back at Little Big Pants Raven for the daily torment she puts me through.
One of her favorite things to do is barrel out the back door. So I put her in her crate, and Regis in the bathroom, and Luna in another crate when I open the back door for play or potty time. This is because these three are the most obnoxious going out the door. Raven just wants to be first. Luna wants to chase Bouchard and bark at him like a nagging pain in the neck. Regis gets out the door, turns around, and barks at the boys. If Bouchard doesn’t get out first, he can’t get by. Regis also snaps at passers-by. The old geezard.
So when I saw the rain, hahahahaha, do you think I went through all that trouble to put away those rascally ones? Nope. I opened the door and said, “Let’s go!” Luna and Raven were first out, and the only ones out. They did an about-face several steps out and were back over the thresh hold about the time I really got going on my laughfest.
Ahh, yes, Karma. She’s out there waiting to come out at the right time…just like the moon.
Nature and Her workings are beautiful things.
Helen