I've used up all of my pretty words. I just finished putting out the Rotary newsletter for two weeks ago when it was my duty to make the notes. Instead of getting a lovely pre-digested write-up from one of my kindly editarians, I had to do it all in my own voice. I'm going to let pictures help tell my stories today. I took two separate story arcs, so let's see whether either works for me tonight.
In conversation with Mr S-P, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. There was something golden brown traversing our front lawn. He was standing up, facing the window, and a minute or two later, he said, "You're gonna want to get a picture of this."
He jumped out of the flowerpot when Mr S-P moved away from the window, but by the time I got my camera, he was back.
It soon became apparent what he was after.
Upside down didn't work.
So he jumped down (or fell), and reached back up.
I was totally fine with him stealing the head off of the sunflower. They're pretty much weeds out here. He can has.
But then he stopped and started thinking...
"Hm... I wonder whether petunias would be a tasty dessert?"
Last we saw, he had moved on to the sunflower cluster in the Unless Garden. Oddly, no squirrels seem to eat the sunflowers growing in the main part of the back yard. (Bark, bark... I wonder why?)
Later in the day, I tried to bring Elsa inside to keep me company while I cleaned house. No real reason. She just hangs out on her bed in the garage during the heat of the day on most days, and I wanted company. She was anxious and just walked around until I let her go back into the garage. Once it got dark, I heard too much barking stemming from one little dog who shall remain nameless (but his main ride is a rickety wheelchair...). Bump and Elsa were already chilling in the garage, as old dogs are wont to do. I invited Murray in to get out of wheels and stop barking. On the way in, he stopped and nosed a bag of giant rawhide chewies. I said fine, as long as you don't pee on my bare feet while I pull you out of wheels, you can have one. I kept my promise, and grabbed three giant rawhide curls. I put one down by Murray, and the growls started. I lured Elsa back onto her bed with her chewie, and suddenly the growling was in stereo. Bump and I made eye contact, and while I set the smallest rawhide on his paws, he and I silently agreed that he shouldn't be there. I asked him to come inside and he snoozed on a rug in the dining room, ignoring the rawhide completely. After an hour, I went to check on everyone, and Murray and Elsa were in exactly the same position, still growling. After straining my retinas from rolling my eyes so hard, I brought Bump into my room to keep me company. After a while, I got him a pork rind chewie, which is the only kind he actually likes.
He was a little nervous about being where he's not used to sleeping, but he's my loyal buddy and he stayed even though my room was too warm and unfamiliar to him. And he avoided Dumb and Dumber still growling in the garage.
Two certain ladies, who spend all of their time fighting over who gets to sleep closer to me for more hours of every day, were not amused by this return of a competitor they thought they had vanquished.
To add insult to injury, I gave him a chewie, yet I yelled at Rabbit for chewing on that perfectly delicious plastic Skittles wrapper on the bed that I wasn't using anymore anyway...
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