Last episodes of "American Stuffers"

Yes. It is with a heavy heart and a hanging head that I admit that today I actually watched the American Stuffers episodes on Animal Planet.

You have to understand, though. The satellite signals on the movie channels were spotty and there was nothing on network television worth watching. Plus -- and honestly, no disrespect to the Ross Family and their employees -- but the show is just like a really bad car wreck. You know you shouldn't look but once you do you just can't turn away from it.

I didn't watch all of the episodes today. I watched "The Dog Named Precious," "The Cat Without a Nose," "The Hairless Dog," and "A Tornado Hits Romance." I will say that I'm very glad Daniel was able to put the cat's nose back on before its owner came to pick it up (and no one noticed the problem). The skin coming off of the Chinese Crested (which the owner proudly stated she'd paid $250 as a puppy) though was a close one. And her having the dog's testicles removed to have sperm harvested by a company in Washington just had me rolling on the floor. Yeah, I'm not a biology major, but I can't imagine them living in there for very long, much less long enough to ship them to Washington from Texas (where they drove from to get the dog freeze-dried).

The pet chicken being freeze-dried, though, had me baffled. I know people keep chickens as pets. I have friends that have had good and bad things come from doing that. But if the chicken dies on its own, I'd be thinking about disposing of it correctly, not how it's going to look in the center of the dinner table as a centerpiece. Okay, the lady with the chicken actually said she was going to decorate her chicken coops with all of her pet chickens after they die and she has them freeze-dried. And she named all of them after characters from Jersey Shore. So, take from that what you want.

I can say that I was moved by the lady who had her Yorkie for 14 years and met the crew from Xtreme Taxidermy at the Big Buck Classic Hunters' Convention (where most of the other attendees were grossed-out by the pets on display). She'd had a lot of loss in her life and having her dog preserved as a way to help her cope may not be for me but I sure hope it helps her. Plus, she wants the dog buried with her when she passes away. Sadly, the dog will look better longer than she will, but at least they'll be together.

And I also have to admit that the story about the dog that had been skinned by another taxidermist and left the crew of the shop with a puzzle on how to make him look good again was interesting. Mostly because they were very careful to not tell the lady who brought in the dog how badly butchered the job the previous taxidermist did. I was glad to see that they were able to take that idiot's mistakes and fix it so the lady was happy. Now I just hope she doesn't watch the episode and see exactly what was done to her dog.

So, yeah, I let the redneck in me have a few laughs and sat agog at some of the things said/done on the show. There aren't any future episodes coming (it was cancelled), but Romance, Arkansas isn't too terribly far from my family's old stomping grounds. I'm pretty sure I could find it if I felt the need.

About what do my dogs dream?

Yes, I noticed that I made sure my title was grammatically correct. OCD has checked-in for the night!

Anyway, I do wonder what goes through my dogs' brains when they're dreaming. I can look over at the cat who is sound asleep at the moment and she never moves until she wakes up. However, I can watch either Celeste or Harley and sooner or later they'll start to run in their sleep, snore loudly, or sometimes even bark as if they're trying to say something.

Celeste is five years old and has had a lot of experiences with and without me. She was a show dog and has traveled around the country and also worked as a service dog for a lady in a wheelchair (who sadly didn't know how to care for her even though she'd had service dogs before). So, I could see some memories coming back to her mind and perhaps she sees things she remembers.

Harley, on the other hand, has been with us since she was nine months old. She was abandoned and raised for a month at a farm before they took her to the local Humane Society because they couldn't afford to keep another abandoned dog. She's been on trips with us (vehicle only, no planes yet) and has romped around in the yard or at a dog park. Most of her time she's comfortable on the couch and when given the opportunity will watch car races or other dogs running on television. Harley also lived here with my service dog Cody who passed away in 2010. She was there when he died. She also has a lot of his habits and mannerisms because he made sure that he taught her how to act and didn't let her get too out of control.

Cody would snore loudly and run when sleeping too -- but he only came to live with us when he was much older. He had been a puppy mill breeder dog that had been abandoned on the side of the Interstate when he'd gotten to old to make the owners more money. We took him in and even though he had no idea how to play or act like a normal dog, he learned commands quickly and was eager to please because he loved being loved by someone instead of just ignored. And he still had the gumption to put the cat in her place when he came to live with us and she wouldn't shut up one night. He just closed her mouth with his and looked at her as if to say, "See? Quiet is better."

When Cody would snore loudly and move as if he was running when he was asleep, I could always imagine that he was reliving something that had happened before we had him. Maybe it was running away from the handlers at the puppy mill. Maybe it was finally running free when they first got rid of him before he began to struggle to find food and water in the sweltering heat of the summer. I would always hope that his dreams would include meeting us and enjoying a nice walk or just being cuddled.

I'm watching Harley's legs move while she's asleep as if she's running for her life. Maybe there's a rabbit or a squirrel in her dream? She loves to chase them in the yard, though I don't think she'd have any idea what to do with one if she caught it. She's running and running and you can hear her snorting loudly with every "step" she takes. Whatever it is, she's either thoroughly enjoying it or making damned sure that she gets away from whatever she doesn't like.

I know humans put too much emotion into our pets. We talk to them as if they're people and try to read their facial expressions and actions like we do non-verbal communications from other humans. But I think it would be fun if we could see about what our dogs are dreaming. Finally catching the ball; scaring a flock of birds; or maybe just laying on the couch getting their tummy rubbed. Anything could be a fascinating dream for them.

Tired today....

LONG day.... Took Harley to have her yearly "shearing" at the groomer. She grows so much hair during the winter you could almost make enough wigs/toupees for those little hairless dogs. Then they wouldn't get so cold all the time. We also went to our favorite gaming store and sold them a few items for store credit. Just some old books that we didn't like but that their customers will love buying. And the credit can stay there until the next Warhammer 40K tournament or when we need to buy something for someone's birthday, etc.

Also started shopping for a new phone since mine is having battery issues. I first went to a store run by the company with whom I have my service. They said that they don't make stupidphones anymore. I said that I knew he was lying because (1) I'd seen an ad for one and (2) there were some hanging on the wall in the store. He, of course, wanted to show me every smartphone in the place but I told him I wasn't going to pay a bunch more per month for the privilege of having a phone that can do a lot of things I can't afford for it to do nor would I use it for them. I guess I should have also taken a photo (the one "fancy" thing my stupidphone can do) of all of the basic phones we saw at a large electronics retailer in town as well. And if I wanted a smartphone I could get it there for even less than the service company was advertising! But, no, I did not replace my beloved stupidphone.

When Harley's grooming appointment was over, we went to pick her up and I asked the groomer to grind Celeste's nails so that I won't have to clip them for a bit. Celeste was a show dog before she became a service dog but you would have thought that no one had ever touched her feet before when she started trying to escape from the groomer. Fortunately, the lady had a great attitude and just chased her around the grooming table, keeping one paw in her hand at all times, and got it done. Another of the ladies working there asked me if she could know why I have Celeste and when I told her she was thrilled to hear someone else has a service dog for psychiatric issues. I gave her my name and number and the name and number of Celeste's breeder/trainer because the lady and her husband are trying to get a service dog for him to use. I wish them the best of luck because I know that Celeste has helped me more than I could have imagined!

Hopefully tomorrow will be relaxing. I know Husband can use a nice relaxing day after working hard all week. And Youngest Son is now home from school so I'll find plenty of chores/activities for him to complete!

Am I paying for this???

Today I had another therapist appointment. She began the session by trying to tell me about Jay Leno on the "Tonight Show" last night and how she really liked this "black female comedian who must be new." I mentioned the name Wanda Sykes and she said, "Yeah! That's her!" I began to list a number of television shows, movies, and voiceovers she'd done before and my therapist still had no idea who she is but thinks she's the funniest person she's heard in a long time. I agree, Ms. Sykes is funny. But then my therapist attempted to recount the entire conversation and all of the jokes between Jay and Wanda, but she couldn't remember all of the bits.

She sat there trying to tell me jokes and repeat what had made her laugh so hard but couldn't remember all of the punchlines or even some of the stories. What she did tell me didn't make any sense at all.

Then she began to tell me the story of how her dachshund had escaped from her house when a friend was dog-sitting and the very intricate details of how turkey hunters and neighbors (she lives in the country, so "neighbor" means "lives within a mile of you") had seen the dog but weren't able to catch it. On and on the story went and she was stunned that the dog had been gone for 15 days and had survived. The vet says it has tapeworms now because it was probably eating rabbits while it was away. She couldn't believe that her dog, a pampered pet, could kill something.

I reminded her that dachshunds were bred for hunting and ratting. They're low to the ground and have short legs so they can follow their prey into the burrows. And, most importantly, that it's a dog and when hunger sets in it's not going to debate over whether or not the food comes from a can or hole in the ground. It will go back to its nature and hunt, especially if it's a breed originally designed for that.

She kept on-and-on about how shocking it was and could I possibly believe that her dog (which I've never met) could do something like that and then, oh by the way, did I know that her pig was getting bigger? I had to stop for a second and ask her to repeat herself. She was telling me that the small piglet she'd been bringing into the office because its mother had stepped on it and it had a large wound that needed to be cared for was doing much better and is getting bigger. She also asked me what she should do with such a large animal. She's raised pigs before, so she knows that sows can become VERY large. I suggested that she make it a banquet centerpiece but she said there was no way she could eat it. She might consider breeding it but she doesn't know what to do with such a large animal.

Hey....here's a fun fact -- if you breed a very large animal, its young will also become very large animals!! If you think you don't have room for one now, having a bunch of others isn't going to help your space issues!!

I was about to ask, "Am I paying for this time?" when she finally asked me a question about how I was doing. I asked if she was telling me these disjointed tales as an example of what it's like to talk to me and she said that she didn't realize she'd talked so much. She then asked me why I'm not writing a novel and wanted to know more details from some of the posts that the voices have been writing and suggested I take them and write a book with them.

Yeah....people really want to read the Great American Novel about a plain kid with a dysfunctional family who's bat-shit crazy. Sure, it will be the top of the bestseller list in the category of "Most purchased for use in lighting fires" or "Most purchased as cheaper alternative to toilet paper."

So, my one-hour session didn't quite last that long today but at least it gave me subject matter about which to post tonight. I was too depressed to type much today anyway and still am. However, the goal of having a post every day is intact. My OCD is still sated for another 24 hours.

Busy day makes for tired gal

Today's been busier than I expected. Woke up at 5 a.m. (as usual) and smelled something awful outside when I let the dogs out to go "walkies." Only Celeste came back stinking like she'd rolled on a skunk or something. Had to give her a bath quickly because she was stinking-up the house in record time. Husband went outside to look for whatever it was she got the smell from but there wasn't anything and the smell had left.

So, I crammed her in our small bathtub and tried to get her clean as quickly as I could. Not as easy as it sounds. She's in the process of shedding her winter coat, so there's lots of hair that liked coating the walls, the tub, the floor, me, and the drains. I was finally able to get the stink down to a tolerable level (just barely noticeable if you stick your face into her fur). Then I spent about 30 minutes trying to get all of the hair into the trash and off of everything to which it was sticking. I still have no idea what caused it but I've never wanted to own my own professional dog wash so much as I did this morning! There's one self-serve dog wash table in town but they're not open at 0-Christ-Hundred in the morning. If I had my own, it would be open when I need it!

Then I went to my therapist appointment today. I took her the three page list of things I can and can't do at work and what makes things easier and harder for me to work. She asked if I'd applied for disability benefits. I said I hadn't because I didn't believe I needed them. She held up the list and said that if I had that many things I should have applied years ago. That's something I'll wait and see what happens as I continue to look for answers on why I wasn't rehired from my old job.

Tonight I watched a neat show on PBS called Radioactive Wolves. It's about the wildlife that has returned to the area around Pripyat (outside of Chernobyl) and how the radiation has affected them. Very interesting show. I know it's kind of weird but I've always wanted to go to Pripyat and see the ruins left behind after the 1986 explosion. It's amazing how nature is taking back the area where people lived for so many years and doing so even after all of the damage done.

I then watched a segment on NBC's Rock Center about how Big Box Marts (like Costco) trick people into overspending on items and buying things they never meant to buy before they went into the store. And that's a reason why I don't have a membership card to any of these places. The lure of buying something you've never seen before but just have to have is too strong at times. I don't need 5 pounds of mayonnaise but I guarantee that if the price is right, I know people who will find a reason to make more egg or tuna salad sandwiches than could ever be eaten at one picnic.

Now, I'm tired and I've kept to my rule about posting each day, so I'm gonna relax and probably watch more television. And check the dog. And maybe think about taking her for another bath tomorrow. And making sure I've got something with me before I let them out in the morning to make sure that if there's an animal making the stink that it doesn't anymore.

A little fall of rain

Today's post is going to be short because it's finally raining here and I'm taking some time to enjoy watching the birds looking for something to eat in the freshly mown grass. They were doing that after it was mowed yesterday, but the rain has brought up a lot of treats for them.

And I also just got back from my therapist's office and still feel in a funk about everything that's going on at the moment. She suggested that I go back to school. "And do what?" I asked her. I have a bachelor's degree and most of a master's, but I can't afford any more student loans. There aren't many grants/scholarships for second bachelor's (which I'd need to really do what I wanted). Plus, if I had the money to go back to school I'd have the money to open my own business and that sort of makes the whole conversation moot.

So for now I'm going to sit and watch the birds outside. It's quiet and the rain isn't falling hard, so it makes it cooler outside but not so unpleasant that you're terrified of going out in it. Well, I'm not terrified of going out in it but you'd think the dogs -- who will romp and roll in anything -- believe it's poisonous. They keep looking at me when I open the door for them to go "walkies" as if I've completely lost my mind.

They may be right. But they still have to do their business out there.

I don't wanna post today!

With everything that's been going on recently, the last thing I want to do right now is sit in front of the computer and try to be witty. I went to my therapy session today and feel like nothing much came out of that. My therapist is stunned that I wasn't reappointed for my job and has the same outlook I have on me finding another job anywhere around here -- grim.

It's easy to look at the job services online listings and other search engines for positions and find things I'm qualified for or would be willing to learn. It's harder to go into the job location to fill-out an application, drop off a resumé or complete an interview with an 85-pound service dog with you that they weren't expecting. You can see it in their eyes. They're trying to figure out why you're there with your "pet" or how you could possibly be able to do any work if you're "that" disabled that you need a service animal, especially when you're not in a wheelchair or showing any visible signs of a disability. And the usual answers of "You're qualified, but not qualified enough," or "You're overqualified for this position" roll off their lips as if they've had their mind made-up all along (which, they probably have).

Today has just been a sucky day and I'm not in the mood to deal with much else. I had an idea for a business I could open that would help me as well as many others in our community, and then found that someone else is already starting one. And even though I know mine would be WAY better and most likely more successful, without the money to start it up, it's just not going to happen.

And now the "voices" are even arguing over which is more negative or depressive because that's what they do when I'm in a funk. It's gonna be a long night.

Good riddance, Petland!!!

I'm feeling much better today, so I don't think I'll be ripping my own head off anytime soon as was considered yesterday. I did take some medication, put ice on my head, and took a long nap until Husband and Youngest Son got home from work and school, respectively. I was hoping yesterday that today's weather would be good and I was surprised. It's not only good today, it's awesome! So nice and just the right temperature with just a hint of a breeze to make you feel like springtime is here.

Today we went and took Harley to the groomers at SetPmart. She needed a bath and her nails ground again. I clip them often but it's much nicer after they've ground them down with the Dremel tool because she's much quieter on the hardwood floors. I know Cat doesn't like it because Harley can sneak up on her, but I find it enjoyable. We decided that since there was still the chance of cold weather in this area for the next few weeks we wouldn't get her "Spring Shave" done until the weather stays warmer for a while. Now because she's part poodle, she's all fluffy and "poofy" but still has the schnauzer face. I know it won't last because she's not a girly dog and has already attempted to roll in something unpleasant in the backyard already.

One thing I was very glad to see in the town we visited is that another pet store -- Petland -- has gone out of business. They're notorious for selling dogs from puppy mills and even though they'll tell you they don't it's so obvious they do. I went into that store once when Cody (my previous service dog) was getting older and thought about self-training another sheltie to take-over his job (that's before the state laws were changed and you could train your own service dog). I'd been to the shelters and pounds and Humane Society kennels and hadn't found a sheltie. I thought, just for giggles, I'd go into Petland and see what they had. They were stocked with all of the designer dogs and purebred puppies everyone has been trying to get their hands on. So many kids were sitting in the little "viewing boxes" where they could play with a puppy while their parents sat there and listened to the kid promise and promise to take care of it every day as they were actually trying to decide how to finance the cost of the dog because, being a designer dog, they were very expensive.

I looked around and finally one of the underpaid worker-drones came up and asked if there was something specific for which I was looking. I said that I was looking for a sheltie because my current service dog was getting ready to retire and I wanted to have another of the same breed so that they would bond and the new one could learn quickly from the old one. She said that they didn't have any there that day. I feigned disappointment (I knew about the company and wasn't going to buy one of their dogs anyway) and thanked her for her help. She told me to wait a moment and ran off to the back room. She quickly came back with a piece of paper that said if I paid $1000 that day I could have a sheltie puppy in a week.

What?? No reputable breeder is going to just happen to have new puppies available johnny-on-the-spot. The only way you get what you want, when you want is when you use a vending machine -- and that's just what puppy mills are like. They cram dogs into small wire cages and breed the heck out of them. Then when they're no good for breeding or have gotten older, they dump them or, usually, kill them. Puppy mill dogs are so inbred they have many diseases and deformities that aren't identified to the new owners who take their lovely/expensive new puppy home and watch it begin to get sicker and sicker, if it doesn't just up and die first.

Cody was a rescued puppy mill dog. They used him as a breeder and dumped him when he got older. You could tell he'd never had human contact. Food was just pushed into a cage and if it stayed there he could eat and if it spilled that was too bad for him. He had no idea how to play. You could roll a ball towards him and he'd either look at it as if it was something amazing or he'd run and hide. When we got him after he'd been dumped, they'd shaved all of his beautiful long fur off except for his head and tail. Many puppy mills will do that so they don't have to worry about the dogs' coats getting matted or caught in a cage if they're a profit-making dog. If they're just one of the many waiting to be sold, they often don't care what happens.

I told the Petland clerk that I was not interested in a puppy mill dog and she became quite angry that I would even suggest that their dogs came from puppy mills. I told her that I'd reconsider my opinion if she would provide me with the name and phone number of the breeder so that I could check him/her out and see what types of reports might have been filed by other puppy owners from their dams and sires. She said she couldn't give me the information because I might go to the breeder and just buy the dog myself there instead of through the store. I asked for just the name of the breeder so I could check with the AKC (American Kennel Club) and the Department of Agriculture (that inspects breeders) to make sure I'd be getting a healthy dog. The clerk adamantly told me that she could not give me that information and that my puppy would be healthy because they have a vet on-staff (next door) who checks all of the puppies as they come into the store.

Sure, I'm going to trust a veterinarian that I've never met; never seen references regarding; and who isn't always there at that store to check-over an animal that the company plans to make a large profit on and believe that they're not being pressured to say everything is okey-dokey. I even went back to the vet's office and couldn't get any specific information on the vet, where he/she went to school, their specialties, etc.

After this encounter I saw reports on the news about Petland and how many groups were protesting their sale of puppy mill dogs. The state where I live is one of the largest puppy mill "sanctuaries" because people don't report the owners of the puppy mills and, if you did try to report them, they have no problem showing you by force (usually through the end of a firearm) that they don't want you messing in their business. There are many veterinarians in and near the town in which I live that I researched before I ever took my pets to one when we moved here that had many, MANY bad references and notices online for dealing with puppy mill dogs and signing health certificates of dogs that were transported across the country to new owners -- only to have the puppy become critically ill or die soon after arrival.

I am SO happy that Petland is closed. Okay, yes, if people want to argue about it, it's not good that there are workers from the store who now don't have jobs in this poor economy. But, I usually do research on any company/organization with whom I'm applying for a job, so if I knew that Petland was marketing in puppy mill dogs, I'd never work there. I'd rather work somewhere else for less pay than to watch the dogs suffer as they come in, aren't well, and are handled repeatedly by people who are "just looking" and can't really give the dog a forever home. Heck, I'd work part-time for minimum wage at the local pound or shelter before I'd take a full-time higher-paying job at a store like Petland. What kills me is that the website for this particular store is still up and the parent company is still taking "special orders" and operating out of another town. They had said they were closed for remodeling. Guess it was to remodel their way the heck out-of-town.

As I walked into SetPmart to pick up Harley from her beauty appointment, I took a moment and looked at the dogs and cats inside and outside the store that three different shelters had brought in hopes that they would be adopted. I saw many families looking at the dogs and playing with them. The puppies were obviously the most popular ones but I saw a few looking at some of the older dogs and even overheard one family saying they wanted to adopt an older dog because it wouldn't chew-up the house and they wanted to give it the best last years it could have. I smiled and looked down at Celeste who was staring at me as if to say, "You already have another pest in the house. You don't need any more." I scratched her ears and smiled at the shelter personnel and the families there. True, when Celeste's time comes to retire I'll have to have another certified service dog and will 99% get one from the breeder/trainer where I got Celeste. But when Harley's old and gray and her time here on earth is over, I'll definitely be back at the shelter. And whether it's a puppy or a senior dog, it doesn't matter. Shelter animals love you even more because they know that you've just saved their life and they'll do anything to make yours happy and safe.

The mighty fence hath been restored!

And there was much rejoicing....(Yay!)....

Yes, the contractors arrived bright and early this morning and reassembled the panels that had been dislodged from their posts, using the technique I originally suggested -- big freakin' screws instead of puny nails. The lead contractor told me that they usually nail the panels on so that if someone/something hits a panel at high-speed that only the panel would come down and not the whole fence. I found that quite laughable and even showed him how laughable it was since nothing had hit the fence (except air, or maybe a leaf....perhaps a squirrel) and yet the panels were all falling down.

He admitted he was quite shocked when he arrived and found my custom-made drive-gate was twisted and warped and there was no good explanation for it. So, they poured more concrete into the post holes that had settled and leveled them. They also added more dirt in places that needed it (so glad I saved the huge pile of dirt from the first go-around). And they went to purchase new panels to reconstruct my gate so that it now operates correctly and doesn't look as if it will allow half of the wildlife of our neighborhood a way into the yard.

The part of today's adventure that didn't thrill me was my "alarm" system to let me know when someone unknown has arrived at the house. Since my medication makes me incredibly sleepy each morning, I dozed-off on the couch while waiting for the builders to arrive. Actually, I'd already dozed-off before Youngest Son left for school and he had to wake me to let me know he was leaving so I could watch to make sure he got on the bus. Then I dozed-off again.

Harley, the Schnoodle which is a cross between a poodle and a schnauzer (a terrier), is usually the first part of the "alarm" system. She sits on the couch and watches out the windows or lies beside the door in the dining room so that she can see anyone or anything passing by the house. Her terrier instincts give her the predisposition to growl and grumble at anything walking within her line of sight. It doesn't have to be on our property -- if she can see it and she doesn't know who it is or what it wants, she doesn't want it around. Many leaves and bunnies and people walking in the park across the street have been given fair warning from her growling (even though they can't hear her). It's her growling that usually alerts Celeste, my trained service dog, to see what the fuss is about and make sure there is no real "threat" to the house or those of us in it, especially me.

Celeste being a Beauceron definitely classifies her as a large dog. She's every bit of 85 pounds of muscle and alertness. And she has the traditional markings, cropped ears, and deep stare of a herding dog that usually sends humans walking the other way if she stares them down. But when needed, she can bark and it's a low, powerful bark that can be heard very well. It's the combination of Harley, yapping like an idiot and giving an intruder the thought of a small dog that wouldn't do much harm, and then Celeste's booming bark, which to someone who's not heard it would translate to, "I will eat your face off if necessary, and I believe it is," that makes a wonderful "alarm" system. And it's proven itself effective, too.

But this morning, when I was sound asleep on the couch in the comfort of knowing that these two loony dogs would do their job and let me know when the contractors arrived, nothing happened. They just sat there. Oh, they may have run to the door and saw the men getting out of the truck with tools and starting to fix the fence -- but neither decided to inform me. The incessant yapping and loud barks never came. I was finally awakened by Celeste licking me from chin-to-forehead to wake me up because she wanted to go outside. You can imagine my surprise, as well as the contractors', when I opened the back door and found their truck parked in my driveway and they found two dogs barreling out the door into the yard to go "walkies." The guys had been there long enough to remount all of the panels of the fence and neither dog had bothered to let me know.

Once I was awake, however, they wouldn't leave me alone. You'd think I'd been away on safari and they were just thrilled to see me. When the contractors left to buy more materials, neither dog did anything. But when they returned, both dogs started their yapping and barking as if to say, "See! We are good at this and look at them tremble before us!" There was no trembling -- the guys outside had already known to ignore them and went about their work.

Now they're still sitting and staring at me wondering where their treats are for scaring-away the intruders who simply left on their own after we inspected the fence and made sure the work was done correctly. If it weren't for that dopey look they get in their eyes at times like this, I'd probably have to be upset. And with one dopey-eyed dog on each side of me, that's a hard emotion to bring up at the moment.

The Battle of the Pets: Winter Edition

Holy crap on a cracker! It's flippin' COLD outside! What is it that has Mother Nature thinking she can just suck us in with spring-like temperatures all through December and January and then drop the bottom out of the thermometer like this?

Even the dogs who've been long awaiting the new fence being built so they can romp around the backyard at their leisure are dashing out, getting their "business" done, and racing each other for the door. Celeste has become very good at hurdling Harley -- not jumping over one side and landing on the other but jumping from her butt to over her head -- in order to reach the warmth of the house. And both of these dogs have coats designed for cold weather! You think they'd be running themselves silly until we'd have to drag them across the yard and up the steps to get them inside.

The one really going crazy in the house right now is Cat. Because it's so cold and the dogs don't want to be outside much, they now want to play with her. She's very old and doesn't like dogs in the first place. Heck, the only person/thing she likes is Husband and he hates cats. So now, she's wandering around the house trying to find new places to hide because all of her old spots have been discovered. Even as I'm typing this I've had to call Celeste into the room and put her in a down-stay so she'll leave the cat alone long enough to get a bite to eat. Celeste doesn't want to hurt her. I'm not even sure if she really wants to play with her. I think she's just really curious about this small blue-grey meowing thing that bats her on the nose when she gets too close and doesn't want to be around everyone else.

Celeste is a herding dog and Cat is not going to be herded. We can't even herd her into her carrier when it's time to go to the vet. You have to grab her & turn the carrier up on its end and drop her inside before she claws the crap out of you trying to escape. When we get to the vet's, you then have to turn the carrier open-side-down and shake her out of it 'cause she's gotten really good at spreading her legs where she becomes an immovable object in there. The first time we did this the vet technician thought we were being cruel and said not to do that. After trying to reach-in and grab Cat and coming away with enough scratches and bites to where she thought she'd need stitches, the technician took the carrier and shook it until Cat "fell" out (from about 6 inches). That's why when we decided to move a few years ago I purchased an inexpensive cardboard carrying box from a major national pet supply store where we could just drop her inside, close the top, and then she'd have a bigger area to escape from once we got to the new house. Easy as pie.

Harley isn't paying any attention to Cat. She's already tried all of the chasing and playing and getting whapped on the nose. She's had three years with Cat and they've finally come to an understanding -- I don't bother you and you don't bother me and neither of us has to shed any blood on Mommy's new couch/pillows/rug/etc. They're finally able to walk past each other as if they don't have a care in the world. They do that "as if" because you can bet your sweet patootie when it comes to feeding time or, even worse, when the vacuum cleaner comes out, they'll tackle each other to be the first through the doorway. Neither likes it and all of the behavior training we've done to get them to at least tolerate the sound of the vacuum still hasn't worked.

The day is getting colder and now there's a forecast for ice/snow/mix for our area beginning tomorrow and into Monday. If it's just snow, the dogs will love it. Both think they can burrow under even the tiniest dusting and it's pretty hysterical to watch. But if there's ice, that's going to be a whole other issue. They may have four-paw-drive when they're running, but we all know it doesn't work on ice. Last thing I need is them being stupid and one (or both) ending up at the vet's for either falling off of something or sliding into something else. I guess we'll have to wait and see.

My fence! My Fence! My kindgom has a fence!

Oh, I'm so happy right now!! I didn't think the contractors would come today because the weather forecast is for rain, snow, single-digit temperature lows, and the ground is wet and crappy. But the cement for all of the posts of my new privacy fence cured well and they came and finished it!

Now I don't have to look at the majority of the massive hoard one neighbor has behind the house where he's living (he doesn't own the house, just the hoard). I can only see the top portion. And the pack of dogs in the other neighbor's yard are now invisible to me and I can't hear their barking as loudly as before. It's nice when a "privacy fence" actually gives you that -- privacy.

Just before the guys got started today, Mr. Next-Door Neighbor (who isn't the one who's caused all of the problems for us that his wife and kids have) came over and asked the contractors for a bid on their property. Guess he recognizes quality when he sees it. And, I hope, he's finally gotten over the fantasy that we're going to sell him a two-and-a-half foot wide, 200-foot long strip of land that he paved part of his patio on last year without consulting a surveyor -- making it now our two-and-a-half foot wide strip of concrete. We said we weren't selling and now he'll have to pay to remove it. He's frustrated because his wife advised him that she was correct on the placement and that a survey showed it was their property, not ours. Sadly, her eyeballing of a "line" between a post and a tree doesn't constitute a legal survey and she was wrong. Now he's upset because he realizes that I've been right all of these years that (1) their property line is not as close to our house as she thought it was and (2) my readings of the platte maps and GIS photography was correct and that the other side of their property is actually inside their other neighbor's house (because people didn't bother to survey before building).

Regardless, the dogs are happy they can romp through the yard wherever they like. Well, they would be if it wasn't so freakin' cold outside right now. Both needed lots of encouragement to go into the yard and then they only did their "business" and ran straight back for the house where it's nice and warm.

Summer will be more fun when we can stay out for hours and throw the balls and frisbees for them. And, just like any other toddler, they'll play and wear themselves out and sleep for a long time. That will be nice.

A fence! A fence! My kingdom for a fence!

Anyone who says "Backyard neighbors/friends are best" can just kiss-off for all I care right now. We moved to our house in 2009 and have had nothing but issues with the long list of people who have moved in and out of the houses behind us. Thankfully, though, my desire for a privacy fence is coming to fruition and I can't wait for it to be finished. Heck, right now I just can't wait for it to be started!

I like our backyard. Oh, it has its issues like any other -- weeds that you try to kill but won't go away; flowers you try to keep blooming every year that die quickly, etc. There's a depression in the middle of the yard that we've been trying to figure out since we bought the place because it doesn't always drain well after a large rain. It looks like there might have been an outbuilding of some sort there but we can't find anyone who knows. And with the house having been the oldest built in this area of town (it used to be the only thing out here for years), a lot of people "know" the house but they don't know enough to give us a good history. We know it had a name but that only lasted as long as the person who built it lived here. Later as the town grew, the land was divided and sold and other houses were built around it. Many people only know the house because of the way it sits on the lot. Since it originally faced a private road, the "front" of our house doesn't face the current paved/mapped road. People look at our house at first with an expression of, "Oh! How quaint and charming! They don't build them like that anymore!" which then changes into, "What's wrong with that? Where's your door? How do you get into your house?" as if we couldn't figure it out for ourselves.

We have large trees in our backyard which is very nice in the summer when they're in full foliage and provide nice shade for the yard and house. Today I noticed that our red-headed woodpecker is back again and has a smaller friend with him/her. It's up there pecking away at the same spot on the tree I can see outside from my home office/library/catch-all room. The smaller woodpecker is trying-out its skills on a small branch and keeps getting dizzy and falling off. The larger one, however, just needs a little thrash-metal music going and it would probably make a great YouTube video.

If the woodpecker is back, that means that soon the squirrels will start commuting again soon. One neighbor's boys keep asking us if we want them to shoot the squirrels. I tell them no because (1) if I wanted them shot I could do it myself, (2) you can't shoot them within the city limits, and (3) they're a great source of entertainment for the entire family -- dogs included. Our first winter here we found out just how resourceful our squirrels are because we forgot to bring inside the cushions for the small patio chairs on the front/side/whatever porch. After the first good freeze came, we realized that when we looked outside at the cushions that they were smaller. Knowing that many materials contract in cold temperatures but never having heard that about cotton and batting, I went to investigate. The squirrels had come down from their trees and ripped-into the covering to steal the stuffing for their nests. I know that's what they did because they weren't too shy to continue doing it as I watched through the window and each carried away as much as they could in their cheeks. So now, every winter, we leave a pillow that's been worn-out past its usefulness and let the squirrels rebuild their nests and stay warm.

As the days get longer and their food supplies run out, the squirrels will have to start foraging again. This is when our backyard becomes Grand Central Station. They've learned to hop from the trees in the front yard (where the nests are) to the roof and run across it to the back of the house. From there they drop down onto the weatherhead that protects the main power lines coming into the house. They trot across the lines into the nearest tree and then scurry and jump from tree to tree on their way to the big walnut tree for "work" each day. In the afternoons, they follow the same path back. You can almost set your watch by it. It keeps Harley entertained because she loves to look out the window and watch them go by. I know she secretly wants one to miss a step so it will come down and she can play with it, but I seriously don't think she'd know what to do with one if it did.

As Spring gets nearer, we'll soon hear the whapping of their new progeny against the side of the house. It's a rite of passage all of the squirrels in this yard must go through. After the adults allow the younglings to leave the nest, they have to learn the high-wire act just like everyone else. Most of the time, however, the younger squirrels don't quite have the strength or depth perception to jump from the tree back to the power lines to make it to the roof. For about a month or so we'll have a serenade of thumps and thuds against the eaves of the house as they try to make the leap and miss. Fortunately, they've never been seriously hurt and we're not cursed with squirrel carcasses of the not-so-talented littering our yard. They just get back up and try it again.

But with the neighbors behind us now, I'll be glad when the fence is up. Not just for ourselves and the dogs, but to preserve our little habitat. One neighbor just moved-in with three large-ish dogs staked-out in their backyard and puppies running in-and-out from under the house. All they do is bark and bark and bark when I take Harley and Celeste outside for their "walkies." The last thing I need is one getting loose and trying to attack either of my dogs. They won't like it too much if that happens and not only are they charged for damages to my pet but also can be arrested for the injury/death of a service dog which ranges from a misdemeanor to a felony in our state depending on the severity.

The other neighbor has been there since before we moved-in, but it's not his house or his property and he keeps trying to come over to tell us what we can and cannot do with ours. One night he showed-up on my back steps unannounced and was just waiting there for one of us to come out. He's darned lucky he wasn't met with one of the many pistols I keep handy for instances like that. Now that he's seen the fence contractors coming by to bid on the construction, he keeps saying how he's promised us that he'll help build the fence to make sure it's correct. I've informed the chosen contractors that if he begins to pester them or attempts to "build" anything on our property line to let us know and the police will have another discussion with him.

It just figures, though, that the incredibly warm winter we've been having will come to an abrupt end this week as the contractors try to get the concrete for the posts to cure. Days upon days of Spring-like weather and now we start getting temperatures in the "seasonal" range. Oh well, they have a one-year warranty on all construction and materials -- and I made darned sure that it included construction during the winter. So, if the thing starts to lean, they have to come fix it. I'm nothing if not thorough (and perhaps a little nitpicky) over contracts and making sure I get what I want.

Now I have to decide....planks facing out where I have to look at the posts and cross-beams from my window or planks facing in which could give the annoying neighbors a ladder to climb into my yard.... The city laughed when I joked about wanting a 6-foot chain link fence with razor wire on top. Too bad....it would be cheaper....

Where do you get squirrel-flavored cake at this hour?

Today's post is going to be very short because I have two birthdays to celebrate today. And, as anyone who's had to organize birthdays for a 3-year-old and a 5-year-old will know, it takes a lot of time.

Fortunately, though, these two celebrants aren't going to mind that there are no decorations, cakes, or overly-expensive presents with which they'll never play.

I'm sending Happy Birthday wishes to Harley and Celeste, my pet and service dog respectively. I know Celeste's birthdate because of the papers that came with her since she's an AKC registered dog. Harley is a shelter rescue and we can only estimate when she was born based on her age the vet gave us when we adopted her. So, why not have them share a special day? Makes it easier on us owners who have a lot of dates to remember!

Happy birthday to them both! They're both two of the best dogs I've ever had in my life and I'm very thankful they're here.

Rednecks with money equals "American Stuffers"

And just when you think you've about seen it all on television, along comes something else that makes you wonder, "Who comes up with this stuff?"

Now, I must confess that I like a lot of different shows. I don't like soap operas (daytime or nighttime) and I certainly don't like most sitcoms. The majority of the time you'll find my television tuned to History (even though they really don't show many historical shows anymore), Discovery (absolutely love Mythbusters and Dirty Jobs), Science Channel (I really would love to own a store like Oddities and the things they find are awesome), or BBC America (Top Gear, Doctor Who -- just a small sampling of the British shows I love). If I can find something educational I'll be more than happy to watch it over any tarted-up "reality show" where every other word has to be bleeped. I used to enjoy Hell's Kitchen but you can only listen to someone be so BLEEPingly BLEEP BLEEP without it getting really old.

So last night I sat down to surf the zillion channels available on satellite in the hopes of finding something, anything, worth watching. Occasionally I'll tune-in to Animal Planet. I like their shows Dogs 101 and Cats 101 and occasionally they have a few others that might hold my interest. I'd watch some of the animal rescue shows but then I'd just get upset seeing how people mistreat their pets and be in a crappy mood for the rest of the day. And don't get me started on Animal Hoarders -- we can't even have that show on because Youngest Son gets so angry at the people and cries when he sees the animals that can't be saved.

Suddenly, a show started from which I could just not look away. It wasn't in a "that's so incredibly awesome" sort of enrapturement as a "really bad car accident" kind of not being able to look away. Their new show was starting -- American Stuffers.

Now, if you've not heard of this show yet, I'd suggest you sit down before continuing because it is certainly not like any other reality show on television. The Ross family of Romance, Arkansas, owns and runs Xtreme Taxidermy. And when I say "family" I mean ALL of them. Mrs. Ross is a school teacher, but Mr. Ross and their three sons get very hands-on with the preparation of animals to be stuffed. There are also two other employees of the shop (one that showed-up one day with a roadkill deer on the back of his moped) and a veterinary student intern named Dixie who gets incredibly grossed-out by dead animals or the idea of having to touch them. I think she needs to rethink her major!

Other than the standard taxidermy that is performed in their little shop north of Little Rock, Xtreme Taxidermy specializes in a very odd form of preservation. They taxidermy pets. And they don't just skin them and put them on mounts like you do your prized deer or moose head. The pets are freeze-dried so that they'll last forever.

I'd already heard of freeze-drying animals, especially in the scientific community where specimens could be preserved. If you had a two-headed pig or a set of conjoined lambs that didn't survive, you could have a scientific group prepare them by freeze-drying so that they could be used in the classroom to explain biological anomalies. Seeing a real, three-dimensional representation is much easier to learn from than a photo in a textbook or just trying to take someone's word for it.

But pets? Yes, there are pet cemeteries all around the United States where people pay a lot of money for their pets to be buried in elaborate caskets with ornate headstones. I have Cody, my previous service dog, buried in the back yard with a plaque over the site. The only reason we buried him is because we couldn't do what we normally do when a pet dies -- have them cremated. No one in our area does that. But in the past when a pet has finally gone to wait at the Rainbow Bridge, we've taken their body to the vet's office to have them cremated and then sprinkled their ashes in places they loved to play or just lay in the sun in the backyard. I had considered getting an urn to keep Cody's ashes if we could have had him cremated, but it just wasn't to be.

I totally understand how people are so attached to their pets. Anyone who tries to brush-away your grieving by saying, "It was just a dog/cat/hamster/rabbit/etc." has no idea how much a part of the family they become. True, I can get another dog/cat/hamster/rabbit/etc., but it's not going to be the same animal and it's still not going to fill the void the recently deceased has left. And don't get me started on those who are trying to clone dead pets....

But freeze-drying a pet? I love my pets and service dogs immensely, but I'm not so sure I'd want to have it staring at me for the rest of time. Or even if you get it done with its eyes closed, it's still going to be there and you can't hug and cuddle it like a live pet. Plus you have to dust it just like any other knick-knack in the house and heaven forbid you have company over and someone's toddler decides to play with it and snaps off a body part. Don't laugh at that -- there was an episode last night where after having a Chihuahua in their freezer for four years a family decided to have it freeze-dried along with another dog that had just recently passed away and their kid kept trying to play with them like dolls. Even Mr. Ross said it would be a miracle if they got home with them intact or if he didn't receive a phone call in the next two months because she'd snapped the head off of it.

Part of my family is from that northern-central/northeastern part of Arkansas. I grew up in the Bootheel of Missouri. We were rednecks and we knew it. When I got a job as a newspaper editor in one of the "hill-country" counties just north of "Southeast Missouri-proper," I knew I was a redneck. They were hillbillies and darned proud of it. They couldn't understand me and vice versa. It was almost a Deliverance-like experience that has shaped (and scarred) my life forever. So when I watched the show, I understood their accents (even the one shop employee whom the network thought needed subtitles to understand), and I understood that hunting wild hogs or picking up a road-kill deer wasn't something considered out of the ordinary. Seeing a young girl coming into their shop to claim her oven-dried hog skull from her first kill didn't faze me a bit. Husband, however, was laughing himself silly because nothing seemed to shock me or appear disturbing in my opinion.

And then the lady with the racoon appeared. I've had friends that have had all sorts of weird pets. And, yes, I've seen the horrible tourist-trap taxidermies that have been done like the lizards that are supposed to be a mariachi band or the snakes posed as if they're going to strike. And, yes, I've even seen the ever-famous jackalopes. But I've never known anyone to keep a racoon as a pet. Those things are mean. Really mean -- as in "eat your neighbor's small dogs or cats" mean. This lady had a 40-pound racoon that she'd raised as a pet that had, sadly, become roadkill. She wanted it mounted so she could always remember it. I guess the large photo album she brought with her wasn't enough.

When Mr. Ross went to the lady's single-wide trailer to deliver the mount, she proudly showed the places where the racoon had chewed through cabinets and left a path of destruction through the home. Of course it did! It's a wild animal! But instead of spending money to repair or replace the damages, she gets the animal stuffed. This is the part of the show where I've got issues.

I don't want to assume bad things about anyone. And I certainly have had my time (and probably will many additional times) where I couldn't really afford to have or do the things I wanted and hard choices had to be made. And when you've grown-up in that environment and in an area where it's very prevalent, you try to remember where your priorities are. Sure, an income tax refund seems like something that needs to be spent immediately -- but I'm not freeze-drying a pet with it!

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I've not been so traumatized by a pet's death that I need to have it's freeze-dried carcass taking up precious floor or shelf space and having it stare at me. I had major surgery once and Youngest Son bought me a toy owl that had huge plastic eyes that I had to turn the thing away from me at night because it looked as if it was staring into my soul. I certainly don't want that from a 40-pound-or-more animal glaring at me. And if it's eyes are closed, then what's the point of "having the pet there" where you can "interact" with it (as many of the customers said)?

I like the fact that the show is family-friendly and probably the harshest word you'll hear would be "darn." But I do have to agree with Mrs. Ross -- you bake hog skulls in my good oven and you're gonna hear about it!

Four-legged inspiration for today

Here I sit, another blank blog page in front of me with nothing of quality to write about. Oh, I could go on-and-on about my childhood or the political season and today's primary election in South Carolina. Or I could sit and poke a fork in my eye and probably feel better than writing about those topics.

Celeste is staring at me with her deep brown eyes -- the kind of eyes that you can get lost in and make people infer human emotions and thoughts onto their four-legged companions. And then she goes over to sniff the behind of Harley Quinn (our Schnoodle) and expects me to warmly welcome her back by allowing her to lick me on the face. Again she stares at me, looking as if she could say, "Mommy, hurry up and finish making those clicking noises on that thing that takes up so much of your time so we can take a nap on the couch together." Meanwhile, Harley -- whom I'm convinced is completely insane -- just looks at me as if this huge interloper who only joined our family last July (Harley's been around since 2009) has broken every rule in the house and should be the one left-behind when we go out.

Harley could have been a service dog and was adopted from the local Humane Society to be trained as one. My previous service dog, Cody (a Sheltie), was aging quickly and his health was very poor. Once Harley was added to the household, he began to perk-up and was even attempting to show her what she would and wouldn't be allowed to do in "his" house. Harley was basically a "nurse dog" for Cody -- licking his eyes and ears to help keep them clean, laying next to him when he'd fall asleep on the floor instead of his cushion, and was even there right beside him the day that he passed away. I used Cody as an example for Harley. I'd tell him to sit and he would. I'd praise him highly and then ask the same of Harley. She looked at me as if I'd just asked her to build a time machine and would walk away.

Cody was a "superdog" -- a phrase we use in our family for a dog that has fabulous talents and, yes, those human qualities that we shouldn't place on our dogs but we just can't help it. He was a puppy mill rescue. He'd been a breeder dog and had never known love or affection. Even toys baffled him. Roll a ball to any dog of most any age and they're going to go after it. Roll a ball to Cody and he looked at you as if to ask, "Why would you do that to me?" He never played catch; he never got into a tug-of-war; and he never tried to perform a trick or command for a treat. The only time he would ever jump on the bed was if it was storming outside. Not only could he jump up onto the bed but he could clear me and land right between Husband and me. But, if I forgot to take my medication or if I was having a panic attack, he was right there nudging me awake and looking at my purse where my meds are kept or laying on my chest to help me relax. He tried once to bring my purse to him, but the people who had him before me had so poorly taken care of him he didn't have many teeth left. Pulling with his gums was very uncomfortable yet he still tried every day.

So bringing in Harley was, I thought, a stroke of genius. She could see up-close-and-personal what was expected while hearing the commands and being able to be rewarded for properly completing them. Little did I know that when you have a dog with as much ADD as the owner, the dog isn't going to pay attention to crap. Actually, let me rephrase that -- because she did pay attention to crap. The cat's crap. And found it to be a delightful after-dinner dessert before trying to lick your face. That habit was broken VERY quickly!

But I thought that her being around a trained dog and having the structure of becoming trained as a service dog would help speed along the process. Schnoodles are Poodle/Schnauzer mixes. They're considered a "designer dog" and I felt very lucky to have found her at the pound and to give her a new lease on life. Poodles are very, very smart dogs and have hair instead of fur -- something that would be ideal for a family of asthmatics like mine. Schnauzers are terriers and are also supposed to be very intelligent with very little odor or shedding. Again, that was a big plus for us. And Harley showed every bit of the Poodle in her with the exception of the Schnauzer beard that no matter how you trimmed it still wanted to stand-out as a Schnauzer trait. I had hoped that it was the only stubborn part of the Schnauzer we'd gotten but I was wrong. So very wrong. As she got older the terrier part of her personality became very prominent. She to this day still growls and barks at every squirrel, bunny, or leaf that passes her view as if they're the largest threat ever to mankind and she's the only dog that knows it or can do something about it.

You can just say the word "squirrel" in our house and she'll bolt for the nearest window or door and begin to stand guard.

The more I worked with her, the more she tried to learn but just wasn't able to keep it all straight in her head. Plus, add a hyper dog to a person with anxiety and you've got a bad mix. She was very good at mimicking Cody by trying to lay on my lap or my chest to calm me down during moments of panic. What she wasn't good at doing was staying there until everything had passed. What was more likely to happen was she would be there for me to pet and try to calm down before she would jump off, growling loudly at something only she knew about which would then increase my anxiety even more because I'd become worried over something that I'd missed or that could actually be dangerous. I started freaking-out on my own over leaves tumbling down the driveway for no apparent reason!

Soon, the State of Missouri passed a law that only service dogs (and grandfathered service horses for the blind) would be recognized and that they had to be trained by an accredited and certified service animal trainer. That effectively put an end to my continuing to self-train Harley for the job I needed her to perform but certainly wasn't going to get. However, she was definitely assured her continued place in our household because once you've met her you can't forget her. She's hysterical and, as I said above, almost certainly insane. She's just the right size for cuddling and picks-up quickly on emotional changes of not just family members but also anyone she's around.

And if you recognized where we got the name "Harley Quinn," you'll understand that the insanity was aptly named before we ever encountered it.

So, I began my search for a service dog that would comply with the new State laws and was paired with Celeste. She had been trained very well and it took a week of training me to get me up to speed enough so that she'd realize that I was the new person in charge and that I had worth to her. That "worth" being food, water, shelter, and affection. That's another reason why I have "DO NOT PET" on her vest -- she needs to have her entire attention on me and if she gets lots of attention from others, why would she want to keep protecting me?

Celeste has tried to blend in with the family and not usurp much of Harley's "dominance" (for lack of a better word). However, when Harley has her bits of insanity and believes that a 30-pound dog can go toe-to-toe with an 85-pound dog in No-Holds Barred Hardwood Floor Rambunctious Roughhousing, Celeste is quick to put a paw on Harley's shoulders as if she could say, "Look squirt....you think you're big but you have NO idea what you're getting into and I'm gonna let you off easy even though you've been trying to bite at my ear for the past 10 minutes. How about you calm down and we'll all get along?" When that doesn't work, she just grabs her by the nape of the neck and moves her out-of-the-way. Celeste was raised in a pack and learned pack mentality. Harley was abandoned on the side of the road and we have no idea if she understands the standard pack pecking order. But she's learning it now.

While I've been typing this Harley has decided to come in and join the staring. They both are looking as if no one has ever, EVER in their lifetimes given them a pet or food or any attention whatsoever. They try to push my hands off the keyboard and, especially Harley, get into things they know they shouldn't but they also know will annoy the crap out of me and make me get up to see what they're doing. I guess I'll end today's post.

Plus, when they act like that it usually means they need to go "walkies" and that's a whole other adventure in itself.