Seismic Scottie Part 2

Well, Miss Vivi has been here one week and a day. In that time, she's had her head peed on twice: once by Dosi and once by Blue. Neither were intentional. She just had to figure out about which end does what.

Dosi has decided to babysit. Reluctantly and only once in a while, but at least she's not barking and/or growling at Vivi every time the poor thing barely touches her.

Blue tried to behead her 3 times earlier in the week. Since then, he's resorted to just growling and curling that upper lip so his oh-so impressive fangs show a little. He's cracking though. Every so often he forgets that he's supposed to hate her. Instead, he sniffs and does a little nose touch. It's just a matter of time; his fate is sealed.

Today, she got to visit the hair salon and be ooh'd and aah'd over. That trip would have been good except that she got carsick on the way home 3 times. We definitely will have to work on that as she will be a going Jesse once her show career starts.

Also, today she had a big shadowbox tump over on top of her. That was plenty scary. It's the first time I've really seen her afraid of anything. We'll revisit that spot several times over the next few days to prove that that particular corner isn't out to get her.

Puppy life.......never a dull moment.

Seismic Scottie

This past Monday a very small black Scottie created a very HUGE shift in the day-to-day existence of the dogs and humans alike living in the household. Her name is Darlen's Hot Child in the City (call name "Vivi"). She was 11 weeks old on that day...... going on 21. She has a mind of her own and isn't afraid to use it. She has already mastered the basic arts of Scottie Manipulation and is fast becoming more than capable in Airedale linguistics. To see her "talk back" to 12-year old Dosi with a bark that makes your fillings ring is a sight to behold. Dosi's head is bigger than she is, but no matter. Vivi is the 800-pound gorilla in the room.

Alas, she is not having quite as much success with her Scottie housemate, Blue. Blue is 4 and has ruled this roost from the time he arrived, also at 11 weeks old. He sees absolutely no need to give up his crown to this little smart aleck baby. There have been several instances of out and out warfare, as he is not prepared to give up without a fight. For his pains, he has been thoroughly chastised, but remains unyielding. (So much for me believing that I am the alpha bitch of this house!) Up until now, Blue has been the most mannerly, well-behaved Scottie you could ask for. He is now fast approaching the most stubborn. But I know something he doesn't: Vivi will get older. Vivi will turn in to a girl. Blue loves girls -- all of them, big or little. Where once he disdained all her efforts at friendship, when the recognition comes, she will be calling the shots. He only thinks his world has been rocked now. Give it a few months and it will turn inside out.

I wonder if we can all live that long?

UMMMM....that leather smell!

A new car is a thing of beauty. And if it's yours, so much the more beautiful. I took possession of my new car on Friday. No, I haven't been in it every day, but almost. It took me most of one morning just to decide what to put back in it from the "stuff" that came out of the Montana van. The amount of debris, junk, trash and "why-do-I-have-this" items was incredible. Apparently over the years, I have considered that each car ride was the equivalent of a Girl Scout camp-out!

Knives, corkscrews, plastic eating utensils (some new, some used), rain hats/tarps/ponchos, flashlights (yes, plural), a roll of paper towels, plastic sheeting........oh, the list just goes on and on. A lot of it just got thrown away. Only about a quarter made it back to the pristine confines of my new Honda Pilot. I have taken a solemn oath to not junk this car up. We'll see how that goes.

Of course, this does not apply to anything necessary to the comfort, care or entertainment of the dogs. Who, by the way, have not enjoyed a ride yet. I'd like to revel in the new leather smell just a little bit longer. And not have to look out of windows fogged with Dog Art Snool. For now, I am enjoying riding along to the sound of XM radio without panting or snoring in the background.

Fly Away Home

Just a little update on the bird situation. Everybody must have gotten away safely, because the parents aren't swooping through the yard and I don't see any little bits bobbing around the grass. Whew! I'm thankful I didn't have to take some small feathered beastie out of another beastie's mouth. I'm also thankful that my fine feathered friends are living in another birdy condo because my gardenias are beginning to bloom and it will be nice to be able to cut some without disturbing a nest babbling with fledglings.

All the while I was stressing over the cardinal babies in the back, the little brown wren family on the front porch struck their tent for parts unknown as well. Yesterday morning when I went to check on them, they were gone.

Good luck y'all........Fly On! I'll keep the feeders filled for you!

File a Flight Plan

For the last 10 days or so, I've been on baby bird watch. Right outside the back door, a mother cardinal built a nest and proceeded to hatch out 3 eggs. I can't imagine what she was thinking, as this is a highly traveled path from the house to the yard both by the human inhabitants and the canine ones. (Can you say, "Bird Brain?")

This morning as we all trooped out the door on our way to the kennel for breakfast, I stopped to take stock of the situation as I have every morning for days. Lo and behold, 2 baby cardinals were sitting on the edges of the nest. Baby #3 was nowhere to be seen. I'm telling myself he/she had already flown the coop, but I'm afraid that might be a lie. I'll know when I go out to trim the gardenia bushes where the nest resides. Then I noticed that Mom & Pop were flying from pillar to post, chirping their little hearts out. Surely, I thought, they can't be calling them out of the nest THIS early. They just hatched out a little over a week ago. Wrong. That's exactly what they were doing.

It's been hard to do anything much today for running to the windows every 20 minutes to see what's going on. First, babies were perching in gardenia limbs. Next thing I knew, there was one sitting in the chain link fence. A little while later, there was one flopping over in the hosta bed. Finally, about an hour ago, both of them were sitting somewhere off the ground at least: one each in the whiskey barrels sitting under the Bradford pear tree. (#3 is still MIA.) The parents were still zooming around every few minutes trying to get them to try those wings -- that, by the way, have hardly any feathers on them to speak of to my way of thinking.

Five minutes ago, I looked outside. Nothing. No parents. No babies. No chirping. I hope they've made it out of the backyard or at least up in the tree. Keeping two terriers in the dark about flopping baby birds is hard work. Tonight I'm taking the nest out of that gardenia. I'd rather not be on call again soon as the protector of fledgling flyers.

Oh, for the Gypsy Life!

I'm getting a new car soon. That may not be a big deal to many, but since I haven't had a truly "new" car since about 1978, it's a very big deal to me. And I'm truly conflicted about the whole entire thing. I want it..........I think.

First let me say that I adore the car I have right now. It's a big ole 2002 Pontiac Montana van (that they don't even make anymore) and it holds the WORLD. I know, because I've stuffed it full on many, many occasions. It holds all the dog paraphanalia you could ever hope to take to a show, a trial, an anything. Crates and tables and grooming supplies.....even a bag of clothes for moi. It rides like a dream; the sound system is wonderful; the seats are the most comfortable I've ever had in a car. I haven't had one second's worth of trouble out of it. So, why am I trading it in on a new Honda Pilot?

To tell the truth, I'm not sure. I guess because in the last six years, I've put over 112,000 miles on it...happy, happy miles for the most part. But I don't always have company on road trips and now there's just this little hint of questionable "trustworthiness" that rides with me. As long as I had my OnStar, I felt safe. But it's gone now (damn that digital stuff) and so lately I've begun to wonder. Plus, I've been thinking of downsizing the car a little bit to go along with downsizing the stuff that keeps threatening to take over my house. And wonder of wonders, guess what I've discovered today?

Yes, my car has turned in to a gypsy's caravan wagon. I didn't see it coming. I was blind to the RV condition it has acquired. I began cleaning out the car in preparation for the call that the new one is here. I can't begin to tell you the crap that has been quietly accumulating. No wonder I don't get better gas mileage. Granted, some of it is stuff I've continued to think of as necessary, even though I haven't had occasion for much of it in the last two years: an extra folding chair to sit in at dog shows, a sun tarp to put over an exercise pen, TWO rolls of paper towels, a whole collection of clamps to connect "stuff", a bag of dog water buckets, toys, extra leashes, etc. etc., an extra grooming smock, the golf umbrella, a small garbage can, dozens of CDs and even tapes (that I never listen to anymore), an old shower curtain (don't ask). There must have been 4 dozen 20% off coupons for Bed, Bath & Beyond stuck in the driver's door pocket. Plus, lists of books to check out at the library some day.

Yes, I have lived out of my car. Eat there, nap there, camp out of it, groom dogs in it, socialize in it. I'm in the car what feels like most of my life. I'm not going to be able to do all that with the new Pilot. No room at the inn. It's going to be a hard adjustment to make. My gypsy wandering ways are about to change. At least it won't be a Vespa.

The Maid Comes on Mondays

Yes, today is "maid" day. I really like this one. She's been coming for quite some time now. She's not one of those "chatty Kathy" types; just does the work. Sings occasionally, but I like music. She keeps talking about retiring and every time she does, I think, "Oh my God, what WILL I do if she quits?" The house will be a wreck and I'll be cranky. Probably more than cranky. Probably just downright ILL. I just can not get along without her. How can I entice her to stay?

Okay, so the damn maid is me. And I've been maiding now for what seems like a small eternity..... not a big one, just a small one. Today as I was cleaning the commode for the fifty-eleventh time in my life, a thought popped up uninvited: some people DO STUFF....some people clean toilets. Now, I'll be the first one to admit that I like a decently clean house. At least one that visitors can't pick up any zootic diseases from while they're there. But there just has to be something in life other than a clean bathroom.

I do want to retire from domestic management. After 30 some odd years, I think I'm due a gold watch (and lots of other things besides). But since the job is ongoing and there doesn't seem to be anyone else standing in line to do it, I guess full retirement is out of the question. So, I'm now giving myself permission to go part-time. If things aren't as clean or as neat or as organized or as whatever it is I've always thought they should be, who cares? Not me..... I'm moving on to some other activities. Hmmmm. Let me see now. What exactly would those be? I'll think on it while I vacuum.