MYSTERY OF THE BLACK AND WHITE KITTIES

 For a number of years we have dealt with the infamous Black and White Kitties of Park Forest. When we lived in the townhouses, before 1985, we were directly across the street from the Forest Preserve. Naturally, we had critters. We discovered they loved Good Humor ice cream. Never mind how we learned that.

We had a cat at that time, a real black and white longhaired kitty named Ambulance, who only once tangled with a skunk. It was long before I worked for Doc and he got a bath in tomato juice, which didn't do much really, except turn him into a black and pink cat for a long time.

(This is Ambulance, when he was elderly.)

 

Anyway, the point is, now that we live over here, we have the same skunk problem. Possibly not the same skunks since I do not think they live THIS long, but just as odoriferous and bold.

 

Last night we were beleaguered by the scent of Skunk. It seemed to be drifting aimlessly around the summerhouse, which is full of junk and which John has been trying to clean out. He thought perhaps there had been one in there, but I don't think so. They don't hide. They walk in plain sight, and they don't run.

 

I kept the dogs in.

 

Tonight the eau de skonk was immediate and strong. It wafted into the house shortly after I let the boys out. It was dark. The smell was pretty pungent. I called them in.

 

I went out with a flashlight. I checked the entire yard, the sheds, the garden, the gates. Nothing. The skunks have been known to live in the backyard of an abandoned house across the street, so I decided to look out front. I went out the front door and began using the flashlight between my house and Roger's.

To my horror, I heard one of the kids screaming "Mom there's someone outside! I hear someone outside!"

I immediately screamed ITS JUST ME IT'S JUST ME

and heard Cindy yelling at the kids:

You're listening to the washing machine!

You're listening to the washing machine!

 

So I don't think anybody heard anyone else, really,except Maria across the street heard me and came out, and dogs heard me and went ballistic so the kids were yelling at Cindy who was yelling at them and I was yelling at the dogs to be quiet.....

 

Maybe you had to be there.

I never have found the skunks.

But I know they're out there, waiting.

 

 

IDIOTS

Well Akin has to be first on the list with his comment about rape.

Once I had a gynecologist who, after I had had both my children and mentioned that I would not be having more, said to me-- and I swear this is true (I was 35 at the time):
"You know, you might as well have a hysterectomy because you are not using your uterus and it is just going to sit in there and rot."
I swear he said that. I was shocked to say the least but too young still to retort (he was in his 60's at the time):
Well hey you still using those testicles? Because we can have those removed.
Now I would not hesitate to say that to him.

Before that I had a gyne who pinched my cheek (facial) when he was done with the exam and said "Oh you're just fine, dear."
My ass! I was outta there so fast------------he had a very good reputation and I am sure he meant nothing but keep your hands to yourself unless you are doing what I pay you to do.

Then I had one whose receptionist called me a "menopausal old bitch" (I was 40) when she thought I was out of hearing range. BWAAAAAAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. I wasn't. Got her good.

I watch Cops a lot. Generally I like Cops which is not a popular response anymore. Most of the Cops I know are basically good guys who genuinely want to help and see and hear too much crap to keep their do-good attitude fueled all the time.
Consider the gentlemen arrested who have drugs in their crotches and insists they are not theirs; they never seen them before, sir.

What's a Cop to think? Pretty much what I do except he probably is not allowed to laugh in their faces.

        "I am smarter than most criminals and all politicians."

Ah well. It is 4 in the morning and I have already been up for a half hour. Think good thoughts.

THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

Have you ever seen anything more wonderful? I haven't. Unless maybe it is This:

Four weeks old. Ears not up. Not for awhile. Already looking for something to get into.

Forgive me my Bassets for I have sinned and I have gone to the Dark side quite literally, once again. I do love my big black dogs.

I love my Bassets too. It's a lot like having children. You love the ones you have unconditionally, but with each new one you hope it won't have the faults of the ones before: THIS one won't take it's clothes off and run down the street naked.
THIS one will  be using the potty by 2
THIS one will learn to eat with utensils .
THIS one will speak before 3.
THIS one won't scream "Mommy don't hit me again" in the grocery store when you have never laid a finger on her.
THIS one won't break his arm when you are not home.
*********************************************
THIS one will hold his tail properly in the show ring.
THIS one won't bark at the mailman so hard that he spits on the front window.
THIS one won't stand on dining room table to look out the back window.
THIS one will let me cut his nails without jerking his foot away and screaming before i touch him.
THIS one won't eat the remotes, eyeglasses, paper products, tampons, popsicle sticks, poop, birds, mice, sandwiches, anything on the counter, or open cupboards.
THIS one won't carry knives and scissors off to play with.

No this one will be perfect. I can tell.

SNACKS

Two snacks just went past, came into the yard, right to the door.One was wearing a baseball jersey and the other a tu-tu. In pink. They were Yorkies.
I know some of you have Yorkies.
I would imagine you understand their relationship, size-wise, to snack cakes.
Nigel and Llewis and Conley understand it.

They watched intently until the one in the baseball jersey came right up to the door and then two of the Bassets simply exploded. I think the one in the TuTu nearly fainted. The other one stood at our door barking.

I mean AT THE DOOR.


(borrowed from Google)

And then all hell broke loose. The screen was locked but I feared for it's stability. Both Conley and Llewis pounded on the door, screaming their wrath.

I would have stepped out and asked her to get the dogs out of the yard but the last time I did that the woman (not the same woman) said "Who you talkin to, bitch?"

(We kissed and made up later more or less, but it was not an auspicious beginning to a friendship. That one was a Bichon.)


And I thought:

Who are these people who think it is ok to let their dogs come to my door? They wouldn't allow their CHILDREN to come to my door, so why is their dog in my yard, at my door, aggravating my dogs?

One of my Bassets could easily eat one of her Yorkies, and then whose fault would it be? Shall we guess which dog would get arrested?

I don't want to start a turf war but.....

TECHNO BABE IN THE WOODS

Yesterday I spent a lot of time trying to get Picasa to work and it just wouldn't. I could not load photos from the camera to Picasa and it is the only program I could find that had that option.
I was vexed.
(Isn't that a lovely word? It covers a multitude of sins.

Anyway I had a lot of other stuff to do-- like buying food for the dogs-- and eventually had to leave the computer uploading updates and go run errands.

                          (Dog with empty food bowl as a reminder.)

So off I went and I was gone most of the morning. (Yes, the dogs had eaten already once. I know you were thinking wow, poor dogs.)

When I got back and finally got back to the computer it had kind of self-immolated. It was frantically trying to fix something and was really spinning it's gears. I turned it off and then, of course, it would not turn on.

Oh no, it said. You went away and left me on. Bad Bad.

Figuring I had nothing to lose I began tinkering with it and finally it started up again and then went right back to whimpering about the updates and not being able to run.

  (Dog outside after attempting to help fix the computer for me.)

Finally I got it to agree to run and a friend told me how to see what updates had been loaded. I loaded the rest and since then the Computer has been fine, but I have the feeling that it is only a matter of time....



(Dog commenting on my lack of techno skills.)

Meanwhile I went back to Picasa and since I had done everything else I decided to try the simplest thing-- another card. It worked.
Ok, so my big card was kaput.
I mentioned this to husband who said well is it formatted?
Format.
Format.... no of course it wasn't. It had somehow become unhinged and unformatted.

I formatted it. Now everything works but.....I know it is a cruel ruse on the part of the computer to lull me into relaxing.

I just stuck this on here for a change.

It was taken at a cat show.

(Yes, dogs: they show cats.)

THE RED TIDE

I am angry. Not a little, a lot.
Forever I have used and loved Picasa to manage my thousands of photos, to store them, transfer them to buyers, to art fair juries and yes, to here.

Now suddenly Picasa has turned against me and will not import any of the photos, which means I can no longer use it for these things, and I do not know of another program where I can import images from the camera, altho there must be one or two. Free.

Nothing, or very little, annoys me quite as much as a problem like this because I do not have clue how to fix it. I have re-booted and re-booted. I have uninstalled, installed, uninstalled....

I think one of the problems is that I cannot find a 64 bit program. It says that is what it is  but once installed it clearly states it is 32 bit.
Or something else went wrong...

(by Darla, from Google)

This is how I feel today. Does anyone have something they would like to discuss with me? Anyone? No?
Anyone have any complaints about the way I run things?
About the way I treat my dogs?
About anything at all? Here I am, smiling and ready to listen and no one says a word?

Amazing

YESTERDAY

Yesterday, Saturday, I drove to Oak Park to visit my daughter who is one of  the most precious things to me in the world.

This time, to their horror, dogs don't count.

Anyway the first step was the most daunting because it required that I drive my elderly Van through Chicago (not the Loop part) by myself. Here I am, a thousand years old and I have never done it before. But I did. I got a google map and I followed it and one thing about Chicago is that they damn well have good signs and if you follow the instructions, and read the signs, you will be good.

My friend Susan Spinhirne spent years teaching me to drive the tollways and now I don't even think about it. So I figured the same rules apply: take a deep breath, have gasoline, adjust your mirrors and don't screw around.

And until I actually got off the road into Oak Park I was fine, and then of course I must have turned left instead of right and Boom! I was lost. Not really. Turned around and I knew it but I called and my daughter got me turned back, and I got there. I did it.

And I had a wonderful time. I hope she had as good a time as I did.
This was a girl's day out.
We went to eat at a Cafe called Winberries. We left her husband home with their two dogs and had pita chips with warm artichoke dip, onions and tomatoes, and I had a huge burger with so much melted Monterey Jack cheese that it slid out of the bun.

                          (This is my daughter, originally.)
I had good white wine, she had a mixed Brazilian drink I cannot remember but it was not a Mojito. And it had RUM, enough to taste clearly.
And we talked and talked and talked and talked.
And then we walked. Oak Park is where Hemingway was from, and where Frank Lloyd Wright worked and played and it is full of FLWright houses. We did not go there, but went to the little shops, the Fair Trade, the two stores that sell dog stuff.The bead store of course. Antique stores, boutiques, paper stores, and a totally terrifying place called "Sugar-Fixe" which is exactly what it sounds like. I did not buy a thing, but could feel my fat quivering with anticipation as soon as I walked in the door. Caramel-filled brownies three inches high: Creme Brulee cookies. Inch and a half big cookies that you knew would melt in your mouth quite literally. Scones...you get the picture.

At one of the dog stores I talked awhile to one of the owners about Nigel. I am trying to learn more about handling his bladder stones but her answers were good but not really answers: that's ok. They were lovely people who cook dog food and sell it, and the smells in the shop were as wonderful as any restaurant.

                            My daughter now. With her husband, John.
                                (Who is wonderful, too.)

Then we headed back and after a short respite I headed home. Traffic was light, I knew the way, it was great.  Except I was dying of thirst. (You don't pull off the Dan Ryan to get a drink of water.)

And when I got home, John said the dogs would not settle all day, that Nigel would not stay in one spot, that Llewis would not stay in the house, that Conley was Conley only more so than usual. After I had been home about an hour, everyone was asleep. Including John, in his chair.

It was a lovely day.

SOMETIME TODAY

Sometime today I will think of something to put in this space.

LONG HOT DULL SUMMER

It has been a long hot boring summer here. It is too hot to do much, even by 7 in the morning. I bought a bike to exercise with but  I have a Thing about riding before 6 in the morning. (It isn't what you think. There was a lovely woman, probably a little nutso, who rode all over several villages on her white and pink bike, wearing white and pink and pink flowers in her hair, who I called the flower lady. I have no idea what the deal was with her, never spoke, only saw her over and over-- she was a fixture. And was found dead, run over by a car, about 6 one morning. Never found the driver. Freaked me out.)
Besides I ride alone. I don't know anyone around here to ride with. Everyone works.

I want to thank all of you who have bought my jewelry or written to encourage me to write again. Thank you for the kind words and thinking of me.

This is my favorite photo right now of Nigel. He is on my bed (as usual) looking calm and regal. There is a better one that is cropped but apparently it did not transfer. Darn it. Someday i will get the hang of this. Some times the photos I want just seamlessly get sent where I want them and other times it takes me hours. I prefer the cropped version. Oh well.

I have a new Belgian Puppy on order. Unfortunately there were only two males in the litter and the second bitch either never took or resorbed. So MAYBE I have a puppy coming and maybe I do not. There is not a single day when I don't think of Cooper and think of the puppy and wonder if I will have a new Belgian by Halloween.

This is Ch. Liswyn's Quiche La Neige. She is the one with the two male puppies so maybe this is the Mother of the puppy I may get.
She lives in Dallas, Texas. Cooper was from Arkanas. I must like Southern dogs.

I have absolutely no clue what the Boys are going to do with a puppy. Every now and then I catch them all huddled together giggling, but when I come into the room they walk away and scowl.
For all I know they are telling dirty Basset jokes, but that is not the feeling I get....

The Boys, early this spring. I may have printed this already. The Belly bands do not work real well but do help. More and More Nigel wants to go outside with the others, and if we aren't careful he drags himself around the yard, across rocks and sticks and makes his netherland raw and ouchie, or it would be if he could feel it but we do not think he can. He is able to "stand" if he gets his legs just right BUT it is accidental, not something he controls.

Four houses on the street put the flag out for the 4th and for Flag day: Roger, us, Carlos and Sara and Jesse (it is hard to see the 4th flag). I am standing in Roger's impeccably green yard looking down the street.
Next to Roger behind me is an abandoned house and directly across the street from where I am standing to take the photo is another. There are a couple more down at the other end of the street which is about two and ahalf blocks long.

Summer Flowers. It was so hot the flowers did not do well this year.

I didn't spend a lot of time watering the flowers, either. All my geraniums died. I think partly it is because we have no front lawn-- it is still a mess from have the sewer repaired. It is still SINKING where the trenches were dug!!

My good friend McBeth got a new puppy, Sheldon. She brought Sheldon over to meet us. Llewis took one look and snarled!!!! Conley was wary but then after a few minutes began to play, laying down so Sheldon could terrorize him a little easier. After two weeks Sheldon is about three times bigger than he is in this photo.

And finally, don't mess with fat old ladies. You never know what they do in their spare time.

WRITING WHEN THERE IS NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT

I haven't written forever because there is really not much going on. It has been so hot even the dogs are behaving. Llewis goes outside on the hottest days and lays in the sun: I set a timer for 5 or 10 minutes and then have to go out with a leash and bring him in. He is going to parboil what brains he has left.

Nigel has bladder stones and we are dealing with that.

I left Conley outside for 20 minutes one hot day and nearly killed him: temp of 105+ at which point I quit reading the thermometer and began cooling the dog. John just dumped Conley in the tub and turned on the shower, poor dog. We ended up pouring rubbing alcohol on him to bring the temp to 103 at which point we stopped, knowing it would probably continue to decline. It stopped at 98 and took awhile to get back up to normal, but he is fine. If I can kill a dog this way anybody can so watch your hounds in this weather.

I have a Belgian puppy on order but there were only two males in the litter and whether one is show quality or not will determine whether I get a pup this go-round or not.

I am not sure how the Boys are going to be with a puppy-- Nigel will be grumpy, I am sure. Llewis --- I never know. One day he enjoys new dogs and the next we are lip-lifting. Conley is wary at first but seems to warm up to new dogs eventually, at least pups. I am hoping that because he is a puppy the boys will grant him some slack for the first couple of the weeks anyway.

Nigel's spa treatment. Seems to really help his skin and keeps him smelling a little less...ah..pungent.

     A typical late summer guest on my screen. I love Cicadas.

                      Even Llewis knows how to relax, Basset style.