NERVOUS DOGS AT THE RENTAL HOUSE

Well....I don't even remember when all this mess started. I know I have little short dreams in which I am standing in our house looking at the rain pouring in. I know the Bassets were unhappy in the kennel for 3 weeks, and I know they lost weight, and Nigel's scrotum suffered badly.

I know that this is much better than the motel, altho they were very nice, and I know Cooper was very upset the one time he set paws in the house after the...what--flood? Inner rainstorm? Invasion of the Elements?

So now, the house is finally dried, and whenever the Village gets going and looks at it and tells the re-habbers/re-builders/restorers what they need to do to get things up to code they can do that and start re-building. Eight weeks, they estimate. Four, they said if absolutely not one single thing goes wrong.
Eight, in reality.

Here we are at the rental. Yesterday I planted flowers in the front-- Marigolds. $2.99 for eight. Figured I might as well. My beautiful oriental lilies are starting to bud out at the Real House. I picked a broken one and brought it here; the whole kitchen smells wonderfuly.

We are adjusting. John spends as much time as he can away from the rental. We do not want to leave the dogs in case they start howling. They tend to do that at home I have no reason to think they wouldn't do it here. They are, after all, in a strange place, very nervous and edgey.

Here I can show you. You won't believe how jumpy they are:

Here's a series I took of them when they were at their worst. It has been a nightmare:

This is Nigel, obviously hiding in terror.

                    And poor little Conley, huddled in a corner of my bed

       Llewis---sad, disposessed, on his beddy from the other house

Cooper has adopted a crate. Safety in steel.


Actually, this is what the dogs do 99% of the day when they are not running around outside, begging for treats and snuffling into interesting corners. There is not a nervous hound amoung them.....

SON IN LAWS, BASEBALL STUFF

http://my.wgem.com/_John-Arguello-Cubs-blogger/audio/884130/29404.html

 

This is a link to an interview my son-in-law did on the radio:ESPN 1440, Quincy, Illinois.

John writes a blog about the Cubs and baseball in general, called The Cub's Den. I am unabashedly proud of him.

 

I confess I do not watch, listen to, or follow baseball, football, basketball (not since Jordan) or Hockey (no Bobby Hull or Stan Mikita? How can it be hockey?)

I watch horse racing.

But this doesn't dim my admiration for John and his singularly accurate memory and knowledge, and his enthusiastic and articulate interview. His writing isn't shabby either-- in fact he is an excellent writer.

 

I take time here to add that he is a wonderful son-in-law and as far as I can tell a terrific husband and all-round guy. I like him, can you tell? He is like one of my children.

 

I have used this before-- it is my favorite photo of John except for the one of him and my daughter at their wedding. Which I missed.

Serious John.

Ok I've put it out here. I am a big fan. I hope you take the time to listen to his interview if you like baseball, and read his blog THE CUB'S DEN. The guy has talent. This is of course an unbiased point of view.

 

NO PICS--ARE YOU CRAZY?

Dogs got me up at the usual 4:30. So out we go. I go with them now because they always find something to bark at in the morning. Actually I think our neighbor leaves their German Shepherd out all night, and she is still there at 4:30, our usual "outside" time.

So this morning was no different and I had the flashlight which has a narrow but very powerful beam. And they barked and I shushed them and we came in. Too early to eat, so back in their crates and I opened some windows to get air in before it heats up and as I am opening the front here come the Cops with their spots on, shining them on my side of the street.

And I think "Oh shit! Someone saw me with the flashlight and called in a prowler". But no, they go on a couple of doors and "knock".

Now I have once in my life been in a room when the cops "knocked" on a door due to a call. Susie and I were in Lexington, KY: at a motel that was a tiny bit seedy but close to where we wanted to be, and at 1 in the morning a drunk began pounding on the door and yelling for Crystal to come out oh please (sob) come on Crystal etc etc.

So we called the desk who called the Cops who, we think, thought we were hookers anyway, and they come and "knock". I don't know if they use their flashlights, their batons, or a battering ram, but nothing shakes a door on it's hinges quite like Cops "knocking". They wanted to come in and we let them. They found two old fat ladies clutching their jammies shut with eyes like saucers. They looked around, checked the bathroom and left. I still think they thought we were hookers, and really pathetic ones at that.

Ok so that is how they "Knocked" on the door down the street. Are you beginning to see why there are no pictures of this event? We actually live two walking blocks away but when you cross that street it is like crossing into another town altogether. Halfway down this street it begins to change into Section 8 housing: by the end of the street, it seems to be all of it. Some are lovely people and others are.....not.

I don't know if anyone came to the door but I heard no voices and the cops left.

Ok now I am a little edgy. I closed the windows again. Locked them up, laid down with Cooper and tried to sleep. No go. Wide awake now I got up and was kind of wandering around the house mumbling when I heard the loud and unmistakable sound of a large amount of glass breaking-- as if someone had been thrown through a window: then a man screaming YOU BITCH! YOU BITCH! and I saw a car peel out.

Ok enough. Called 911. They asked if it were a specific address and while I was not sure I thought that was right and said the Police had been there earlier. And back they came, two squads, vests on, hands on their guns....
The woman went to the hospital (no I do not know whether she was actually thrown through the window or not) but later I heard the quiet tink of someone picking up glass.....

Domestic violence is cross-cultural and cross-economic. I think it has less to do with many things than it does with alcohol consumption, but that is simply my opinion.
John slept through it.

Just as well.

THE BAD CHILDREN

Having moved from pillar to post my patience has been running very thin. It is difficult to turn your entire life (almost) over to strangers; to know that what you do next is dependent on what OTHER people do next or not at all or eventually. It is the eventually part that gets me. WHEN are they going to do it?
So it was with some reservations that I turned the problem of raccoons in the a/c ducts over to Eddie, the fix it man. (At least now, living in the rental, he is our do-everything guy.)
Eddie is a big guy. Big forearms. A workman. He is always pleasant, laughs long and loud, loves animals, enjoys his work apparently. Never complains. His complaints, such as they are, are so low-key they sound like my compliments. "Oh you little rascals" he muttered last night, as the baby raccoons cringed just out of reach (by about 10 feet).

So at 11:30 last night, here was Eddie and his reluctant (and terrified helper, Brandon,) crawling through the ductwork on his belly, hoping Mom Raccoon wasn't at the end of the poorly little passageway but not really knowing. Brandon stayed outside (of the house) to guard against the Mama returning while Eddie was facedown in the tunnel trying to reach her children.

Eventually the decision was made to cut holes in the "family room" (dining room) ceiling,pull the two babies out and put them in a box right by the (now blocked) entrance to the house the Mother had been using. It was raining a  little. Brandon was terrified the Mother would return and rip out his spleen and eat it.

Three holes in the ceiling later (they moved toward the soffit) Eddie reached in and pulled one out by the tail, set it on the ladder and then deposited it in the box I held. I draped a towel over it. I could not believe it wasn't trying to get out, but it huddled in the towel. Then came the second, and then Eddie.

And you can see by his expression, what he thinks of his naughty children.

The white thing is a glove just in case: the rest is plaster dust. By now, it is midnight.

Ok I confess, the little rats are cute, ok? I don't want anything terrible to happen to them, but I don't want them living in my place of residence either, rental or otherwise.

John heard the Mother up there on the roof last night. I can climb a ladder but not dismount onto the roof. I left it there in hopes that John would feel compelled to look and see if the tenants had been moved, but he doesn't. I guess we will wait till Eddie arrives, which will probably be quite late.

So good luck little guys.

Thanks for leaving. (We hope).

ALL CREATURES MANY WITH TEETH

We moved into the rental house last Friday afternoon.
We have mowed the yard, pulled some weeds, picked up after the dogs. The refrigerator leaks water, there are not enough electrical outlets. I have had 3 dog fights, one between Nigel and Conley who ended up fighting inside a crate. The mosquitoes are frightening, some of the neighbors are very nice.
The man who came to put Freon in the a/c unit accidentally set the unit on fire, but managed to put it out and fix it altho we have yet to turn it on.
I have washed every piece of clothing we own, been to the store, fixed actual meals.
The dogs are adjusting well. There is a nice, large backyard.

It had just dried out enough that it wasn't muck, but this morning it is raining again.
This next is a photo looking from the front to the back room. It is an important photo, so take note.

Above that large opening leading into the "dining room" is some ductwork put in when they put in forced air.

Last night, all three Bassets were happily (and voluntarily) asleep in their crates when they leapt up as one, charged full speed out of their crates and, baying, rushed into that room. First they ran to the door, then the window and finally, began leaping into the air pointed at the ductwork.
To my horror, inside the duct, I heard thumping, skittering--claws on metal-- and then--------------------------------then------------------the unmistakable sound of very small raccoons calling frantically for Mom.

There is a content warning at the beginning of this blog. But my immediate thought was:
                       "Oh fucking shit, NO WAY!!!!"


You see, we had raccoons in the crawlspaces above the kitchen sink and upstairs in the OTHER house--the real one we would be living in if the roof had not been re-done in the midst of a hurricane type wind and rainstorm.

There is no mistaking the chirring of the sweet little bastards once you have encountered it. There is no mistaking the sounds of the Mama stomping down a metal duct. Also make no error in thinking raccoons are cute, cuddly, sweet, engaging little rapscallions, because they are not. Threatened, raccoons are big, fast, extremely vicious and they fight dirty. Oh. And not only are they smart but never forget they have HANDS, that they can grab onto you (or your dog) and bite and bite and tear AND NEVER LET GO. They carry parasites and rabies. They are not cute. But there they are, in our ductwork.

Supposedly the owner of this property is sending someone out today to "take care of it". SHort of tear out the duct, I am not sure how. I can tell them right where they were last night, but raccoons are nocturnal and sleep during the day, and it may be that they have moved.
Anyway today will not be like yesterday for the dogs:

Besides it is raining.

                       Looking forward to today's entertainment. NOT.

THE RENTAL DOGS

This is Cooper, obviously overly excited about his "new" temporary home.

Here is Conley after he got chilled slogging through the water in the backyard. (I had the towel OVER him for a long time.)

It's hard to tell but Cooper is so overwrought he moved his head an inch or two.

Conley and Nigel share my bed, obviously too upset about the move to continue their usual snarling at each other.

Excited and anxious, Conley has moved his head.

His usual energetic self, Llewis is playing hide and seek using the DadPerson chair as his base.

And so it continues, the hounds raising hell and we trying to cope. Is today Father's day? Whoops.

THE BIG CHANGE

Tomorrow we get to move into a house. It isn't home but it is a house and it has plenty of room and carpeting and I see a steam cleaner looming in my future.
Just like home, however, the backyard is flooded. Well, everything is flooded today even highways and underpasses and places that are normally dry are flooded. Of course we are expecting more rain, why not?

Last night it thundered starting at about midnight and I spent from then to about 4 in the morning with Cooper sitting pretty much on my head. PAnting.
I gave him the Composure but I got it into him too late and he was already hyped up. Anybody who has ever tried to tranquilize an excited dog knows this is not going to work well.

This morning we walked outside in the rain but then it thundered so we came right back in. Later we went out when it was not raining but everything was soaked. John went out and so Cooper dug a nest in his bed and dried out on his sheets and pillows. (I had dried him with a towel, but....)

They (not sure who They are, anymore, there are too many of Them) are delivering furniture (not ours) to the rental tomorrow afternoon. The cable guy comes in the afternoon. The inspector comes (again) in the afternoon. The inspectors are crazy people. He made the owner fix a screen that was slightly bent, replace a light bulb, fix two doorknobs that have sharp edges, and the owner is going to put in a gate and have new siding put on. He has 7 days to get that done and I guess if he doesn't we have to move out. I am not even going to think about it. Not at all. Nope.

Our real house is still being torn apart. Then the fun starts. Wait till the inspector gets a look at OUR house! Holy Shit, batman. It's gonna be bad.
Maybe it's not as bad when you own the house as when you rent it out. I cling desperately to that thought. This screen the guy had to fix was bent out maybe a quarter of an inch. We have screens that are cut all the way across the bottom because I locked myself out. They let in stray bobcats.

Ok I am blathering because I am excited about getting the boys back with us. It will be interesting to see what they make of a whole new place.