I need to think before I speak!

 It was one of those conversations that happen when you are on one subject and your fellow conversee is on another.  Ross was on his way out of town.  It was my job to take care of the cats until he returned.  He has many cats and they all have names, but the two old cats who live inside are named Queenie and Sparky.  They are not to go outside, so they receive special treatment.

The first afternoon he called and I wanted to tell him Queen Elizabeth had passed in case he had not heard.    The following conversation ensued:

"I'm inside the fortress!  Did you know the Queen is dead?"  There was a long pause during which I heard the sounds I could not identify. End of conversation.  

It was not until later when I received the following message in my email, that I realized I might have been misunderstood.

Hey Lou,

sorry not to be as sensitive about the death of the queen when I called. I was confused when you said the queen died cuz I was thinking my cat. And then the gas pump was spewing gas out of the car so it just was a confusing time.

 

OMG!!!!  I am sorry!!!  Although I am snorting coffee out my nose as I write this!!!  

 If one of the critters does not survive till you return, I will break it to you gently. I think a couple escaped to the outside.

 Your Queen is fine, although Sparkie did not greet me yesterday, but I did touch him and he was not cold, just sleeping. 

Just thought it would be fun to share this today since it is cold and dreary outside.

Peace!

Competitive little waifs!

 Following instructions runs deep in my veins and I rather suspect I have passed it on to my children, but I did not know until tonight, just how deeply it was ingrained in my son.  I have been referred to as "anal retentive" a time or two.  He is a vegetarian, bordering on, if not completely vegan.  Tonight we were talking about a visit to his doctor in which he was instructed to collect all of his urine for a 24 hour period.  Now being the obedient patient, he did just that.  Needless to say he drinks a lot of water.  LOTS of water!  

To say the doctor was surprised at just how much urine he actually collected would be an understatement.  Apparently his doctor has a bit of an accent.  When Sam produced his specimen jars, the doctor exclaimed that this was a lot of urine for 24 hours and he must drink a lot of water!  When he was relaying the conversation to me he used the accent.  Of course I got to laughing.  The upshot of the whole conversation degenerated into a laugh fest and I asked him if he had hauled it in with his little red wagon.  I never did find out what the doctor learned from all that urine or what he was even looking for.  Apparently the little specimen bottles from days of yore are not used in this doctors office.

Sam and I have much the same sense of humor.  Our conversation had started because I want to sell a china cabinet and he thought I needed money. I explained that it was not full of what it was supposed to be full of and had now become a "catch all" so I wanted the space more than the piece of furniture.  When I finally got it across to him, he was good with that.  Little guy just worries about his mommy going around the bend!

I go once a year for my annual exam.  The doctor does not actually touch me.  He does wave the stethoscope at me  which is anti-climatic since he does not use it.  The nurse does take my blood pressure and it is always a tad bit low unless I have just made the dash across the parking garage and up three flights of stairs.  

Well this may be short as the cat is wanting to lay on the keyboard and if I do not yield to her wants she does tend to bite me and that hurts.  That and the fact that cats, by virtue of their  use of the litter box, are actually filthy little germ bombs, makes me give her a very wide berth!

So enjoy your day and remember, you can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself!  

There is more than one way to skin a cat.

I woke up this morning with the cat on my head.  Naturally, the first thought in my mind was one of mother's famous sayings:  "There is more than one way to skin a cat!"  Now let me go on record as saying, I have never skinned one; nor do I ever intend to do so but I have been known to flip the sheet so she flies off of me and onto the floor.  Trust me, she does not stay there.  I have had a lot of cats in my life and everyone of them has been devoted to me.  Well, mostly.

All of my cats have been Calico cats and so they were females, because all Calico cats are females, or so I have been told and it has been my experience.  I did at one time, have a male cat named Boots and I do not think he liked me at all.   He was a gray and white striped cat.  He was pretty much Kenny's cat.  I think Kenny always wanted a cat, because at one time he got a white Spitz dog and named it Kitty.  That dog did not stay with us very long and moved on to someone who actually wanted a white dog.  Except for that dog from hell, all animals that find their way into my home are here for the duration.  If you doubt my sincerity, you might want to take a look at the 8 geese residing in my back yard.  I do not even know how old they are.  My guess is about 16 or 17 years old because I got 3 geese when Bret was a wee lad and he now has a wee lad of his own.

Now I have Icarus.  I know Icarus was the little boy in mythology whose parents gave him wax wings and he flew to close to the sun and they melted, but I did not name this cat.  He was named by Sherman who liked the name and did not think anyone else was smart enough to know who Icarus was, but there you go!

But back to this cat skinning business.  Many years ago when I was in grade school and the body still bent, we had a Jungle Gym on the playground and one of the favorite things to do was swing by our arms  on the bars then do a thing called "skin the cat" which entailed pulling our feet up putting them behind your head and sort of turn ourselves wrong side out and then drop to the ground without breaking your neck.and not totally dislocating your shoulders.  As I write this, there are many things flashing through my mind.  One of which is the knowledge that we wore only dresses back in those days so when we were swinging on the bars and when we were turning ourselves wrong side out the perverted little boys were all setting on the ground watching us.  Holy shit!  How damn stupid were we?

Or were we naïve?  I am thinking naïve fits the bill a lot better.  I like to think that the days of sand and shovels were also the days of innocence and freedom. I do not know when the innocence ended for me.  Seems like about the second year of high school.  That was when I became friends with a girl named LaVeta.  Her dad made home brew and I really liked that.  She taught me how to shop lift.  I learned to dance.  I learned to smoke.  Life was good!  I dropped out of school in my senior year.  I ran away.  I broke into a gas station and stole the money out of the cigarette machine.  I had friends and what friends they were!  Sadly none of them showed up for court.  But on a good note, my downward spiral was ended at that point and I became a functioning member of society.  It was not until many years later that I became a respected member of the human race.  Which brings me to the lesson for the day.

"That is water under the bridge."  Been there.  Done that.  Sometimes the water under the bridge is low and just amounts to a stagnant puddle that just breeds mosquitoes and other vermin.  But that a clean rain falls and fills the creek and the puddle is gone.  Water under the bridge.  You can look at it and move on because in due time the cleansing rain will wash it all away.  Or not.

Just a hairy mass of molecules.

My late husband had his own way of describing the various pets we had over the years.  He called them a "hairy mass of molecules"  and that seemed to describe about any one we had.

When I married him I had a dog named Sysnyck.  She was a poodle/Chihuahua mix.  Very black and with the hair that required a groomer.  She was named after a television show that was about a drill instructor that opened a gym in the heart of gang territory in New York City. I just name my animals whatever comes to mind.  No thought for gender or looks or size.   Sysnyck lived to be 12 years old and died of kidney failure, a weakness in both of the breeds at the time.  She is buried in the front yard.

Then Kenny's sister gave us a red dingo cattle dog.  We got her the same day I peeled 3 bushels of chile, so we named her Chile.  I guess she was actually a heeler.  She was nuts about tennis balls and loved to play catch.  She played catch as long as someone would throw the ball.  Key here was it was between you and her.  You throw and she fetched.  One time we had company come and they had a couple boys about 11 or 12.  We sent them out to play fetch with Chile and they decided to toss the ball to each other.  The came in crying and terrified because Chile sent them up the tree because that was HER ball.  End of that game. 

She would play with one ball at a time.  When she was tired of the ball she would shred it and pick another.  We picked up 12 tennis balls at the flea market once and brought them home to her.  We dumped them all out on the ground.  She sorted through and got the one she wanted and the rest were put away because if we threw one of those she would not chase it.  She only wanted HER ball and when she tore it up she was ready for another.  She is in the front yard.

While Chile was still with us we got a little blond poodle since that was Kenny's choice of a dog.  Chile helped house train Tammy by standing in the flap of the doggie door so Tammy could go out and in to potty.  Damn smart dog.  Chile died before Tammy.

Next dog was another heeler named Polly.  She was white with one black eye.  She became very possessive of me and finally attacked Tammy for getting too close to me.  That was sad as we had to have Tammy put down from  her injuries.  We thought about having Polly done also, but decided to be a one dog house instead and that was what we did until the neighbor lady came dragging home a little white dog with 2 black eyes.  By this time Polly was ready for company and we pretty much lived happily until Polly passed and Elvira needed rescued.  I never knew how old she was.

Also interspersed through the years were several cats.  I only like calico cats and I only like distinctly marked Calico.  First was Charmin who lived 18 or 19 years.  Boots was Kenny's cat because he was a boy and he was gray.  He was around 15 years.  I finally got my last Calico 7 years ago.  I had a friend who named her.  Calicos are always female for some reason.  He named her Icarus.  When I explained that Icarus was a boy, he informed me that no one but me was smart enough to know who Icarus was.  So Icarus she is and is on my lap constantly.

My menagerie that is shrinking.  But memories live forever, don't they?

Sad, Sad little dog!

It is apparent that my house is a flop house for all the animals.  Here you see Elvira who is on top of 2 pillows with her head down on the floor.  She appears to be defromed, but she is not.  She is just very damned lazy.

This shows Icarus up on the buffet and the visiting Woody on the bed down below.

Here is Icarus at her finest!

And Icarus and Daisy so tired they are sleeping on a bare, hard floor.  Where did I go wrong? 

I see people with animals all alert and protecting thier masters.  Not so around here.  The geese do occasionally honk, but even they can not be depended upon to rouse me in case of a crazed killer charging my property.  

Well, I guess they do hold the kids down!

And Daisy is good for a laugh!

Life is good.

Freezing weather, candlelight, and the barn?

A mind is a terrible thing to waste, I hear.  I spend a lot of time trying to figure mine out, but I have decided it is best to just go with what pops into it from time to time.  Take last night, for instance.  I heard about a candlelight vigil at the River walk in honor of the policeman and 2 civilians who died in the fiasco at Planned Parenthood in Colorado Springs.  It was advertised as unsponsored which told me it was a gathering of the community.  As it turned out, it was a photo op for a church that shall remain nameless, but that is all beside the point.  It seemed like a worthy endeavor, so I bundled up with 2 of everything on my frail little body and away I went!

Of course I went early since that is what I do.  My friend Janet showed up and we lit our candles, sung hymns, said a prayer or two.  Since all the cameras were finished rolling the leaders decided not to walk to the police station so we were dismissed.  Janet and I made a stop at Coyote Jack's store on Union where he made us a cup of hot cocoa.  (You will be hearing more about him in a later blog.)  I dropped her at her car and headed home.

I decided to take South Road even if it was icy and deserted and wild animals hang out there and jump in front of the car.  I just like to avoid traffic when I can and South Road was surreal with a soft snow falling.  For some reason, my mind wandered back to the barn on the Stroh place where we lived when I was probably 6 or 7 years old.  As I recall you came up the driveway to the house.  There was a detached garage to the right side where the kitchen was located.  Further to the right was a granary and a chicken house.  And closing the circle going back to the drive was the barn with a long low loafing shed(?).  I think that is what it is called.  But the barn was prominent.

Bear in mind that this memory is 68 years ago and much has been through this old brain, but as I recall I stepped into the barn through an oversized door that barns have.  On my right was a big wooden barrel.  Inside it was grain.  Directly in front of me was a stall for a cow to stand and her head was placed between two boards to hold her in place for milking. This was called a stanchion.   A pitch fork full of hay was put in the manger and she could eat while she was being milked.  Now milking was an art in itself.  The milking stool was a board with 1 leg.  The "milker"sat balanced on that while milking.  Now let me see if I remember that process!

First you placed the bucket under the udder.  Then you got yourself balance of the "stool".  Then you grasped a teat with thumb and forefinger where it protruded from the udder and  applied pressure as you "stripped" down to the end of the teat.  I know this is not sounding like anything is going to happen, but it does.  I am probably not your best source of "how to milk a cow not using a machine", but it does work and the milk squirts into the bucket, except some where in the process (and do not miss a beat or the cow will "hold her milk") you need to aim at the cat dish and fill it up because they are hungry.  Barn cats are profuse in a barn and necessary to keep the mice thinned out so they do not get in the grain.  Barn cats are that only.  They are not for petting or holding.  Most of them would just as soon rip your face off as look at you and you learn to respect their territory.  Come in, milk the cow, fill their dish and leave.   I think these are known as feral cats today.  And ever so often a disease goes through the colony and they all die, but be patient and more will magically appear.

There were several stalls for milking, but as I recall we only used the one and only had one milk cow at a time.  There was a hayloft up above that we were not supposed to go into because we might fall and break our neck, which, according to folk lore, happened a lot.  There were rooms in the back where the other cows (and God only knows what purpose they served) and the one horse could hang out when a blizzard was coming.  And in the spring we had to walk the fields and pull up poison weeds and burn them. 

The low part of the barn was used for whatever it needed to be used for at the time.  As I recall mother had geese and as I recall they were damned mean!  If I strayed (and I did once) into their domain the big gander would attack me and I had to be saved.  This is strange because I have 9 geese out back that love me.  They have never attacked me and 3 of them let me pet them.  I think that gander was just plain mean for the fun of it.

So this is what I thought about on the way home last night.  If I could live my life in reverse I would go back to that place.  It was where Donna stuck her finger in a turtles mouth and John Britan said it would not let go until the sun went down.  It was where Mary set in the mud puddle and Dorothy was born.  It was my brother in overalls and my sister got her first pair of glasses.  It was the big yellow tomcat eating the baby chick.  It was mother going to "club" and dad coming home drunk.  It was my childhood and my roots.  I want to go back there next summer and see if that house is there.  I want to listen and maybe here the kids at play.  Back to the days when someone took care of me.  When I was cute and loved.  Or at least that is how I remember it.

Hey! Where is the dog?

Have spent several days now wondering about why I can not remember having a dog when we were growing up.  We always had a bunch of mangy cats hanging around in the back yard and in the barn, but I can not remember any dog.  We had Muscovy Ducks that were always making a mess where the sink drained out through a wall in the house and dumped the water in the back yard.  Now there was one stinking mess if I remember right and I am pretty sure I do.

Now in the first place ducks are messy and Muscovy Ducks are the messiest ducks in the world.  They are black and white.  The males are very big and the hens are very small.  I had 2 males and 2 females many years back, but they are anti-social and I think they killed one of my geese.  Nobody home and in the pen but the geese and the ducks and there was the dead goose.  They could fly.  Most domesticated geese and ducks can not fly, but those suckers could.  What this has to do with a dog is beyond me, but you do know how my little mind wanders.

So we had the Shetland pony that kicked brother Jake in the head, Danny the brown horse that no one could ride but Josephine, and a bunch of old work horses that were good for nothing but eating hay.  Oh and the rabbits mother raised, but those were to eat.  The milk cow was not really a pet. The cats were what is known as "feral"  which meant they were born in the wild, raised in the wild and no way in hell were you going to pet one of them.  Try and you could lose a finger or an eye and usually both.

As I recall the only people on the block who had a dog was the Rienke family.  They had a white dog with brown spots.  I think his name was Spot.  His life was spent on the end of a chain where he spent the day barking and the only time he quit barking was when he was wolfing down his dinner.  Thinking back there were not many dogs in the town of Nickerson.  Walking home from school, I know the Redford family had a big, mean dog that was on a chain on the clothes line.  Ever so often he would escape and we would see him running through town dragging his chain behind him.  Used to scare the living pee waddin' out of me because I knew if he seen me he would eat me, but thank heavens he never did.

Maybe if I had been able to have a dog to play with I would be better adjusted today.  I guess there is really no way of finding out.  I know as soon as I met my first husband he gave me a little Chihuahua puppy and I have had dogs ever since.  I have two dogs and a cat now.  I have got to try to outlive them, because they would not know how to act if they went to a home where they were not rulers of the roost.  When we go to bed I have to put 5 cat treats on the dresser for Icarus.  Then I give Daisy a Milk bone and then Elvira a Milk bone.  Then I turn out the light and crawl into bed with Icarus protecting me and the dogs run out for a short bark at the moon before they fall asleep.

Thinking back, I bet we never had a dog because every scrap of food had some one's name on it.  The whole country was in a depression so food was scarce everywhere.  But then there was this picture.

There is my mother with a black dog.  I think my dad did not like dogs.  Whatever, it is a mystery that I can not solve since no one is around to guide me.  Maybe I had a dog and maybe it lived outside, so I forgot about it.  Yes!  I bet that is it.  I will stick to that story because I like it.  I bet he was a Collie dog and  his name was Rover!  Oh, finally, I will be able to sleep tonight.

I miss Rover.

There is more than one way to skin a cat or a dog, for that matter.

Soon after I lost my husband I decided to buy new furniture.  I opted for the microfiber, looks like leather, wears forever, and can hold a dog hair against a jet engine vacuum.  Looked real good and is not foo-foo.  It was very soon that I decided I would need to cover it because the dog spent the day on it and left a pile of hair behind.  So I covered it.  Then I realized that I now had to wash the cover, dry it , and replace it every time I cleaned house.

I bought doggie beds for them.  That did no good.  Scolding, water bottles, and bells were no use what so ever.  I ordered 2 "scat mats" which are plastic runners with electric wires inside that shoots out a charge when the dog hops up there.  The only one that seemed to get any sort of reaction was company who sat on it and me when I forgot and put my hand on it.  You would have thought I would have remembered after the first 85 times.  When I watched dear Elvira walk the full length of the couch, yipping all the way, I decided that was a waste of batteries.

My next approach was the big sheets of bubble wrap with the big bubbles.  Decided on that when I stepped on it once and almost scared myself to death.  That method worked for about a year and I realized I had become known by visitors as "Queen of the red necks."  Frankly, I did not give a damn because the dogs were staying off the couches.  Famous last words.  Dear Daisy learned how to pull the bubble wrap off the couch and she could get white hair the complete length and breadth of the sofa.  According to my calculation and the amount of vacuum cleaner bags being used, that damn dog should be as bald as a billiard ball!

Bad Daisy!

I tried piling boxes on it which worked for a while.  When my patience was completely gone, I vacuumed one last time.  Then I stood it up on the arm and there it sets.  Either way, I can not set on it.  I get quizzical looks when company comes, but I am not a stickler for strange looks.  That happens fairly regular in my world!  

So here we have the couch that I can not set on, but smug in knowing neither can the dogs.  But as always in my world, I do not have the last word nor the last laugh.

This is dear Icarus, the calico cat that always has the last laugh!  Do you recognize where her new bed is located?

As for me, I will be perched on a wooden stool at the kitchen counter.  That is my place, until they change their minds and decide to share that space also!

You can not spinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself!

Oh, hey! Did I see what I thought I saw?

Today I took the day off, sort of anyway, and a friend and I went to Florence.  For my out of state friends and family, Florence is a little town west of here and sort of on the edge of the mountains.  It is a 25 minute drive up there and since my son and his partner live there, it is a trip I make fairly regularly.  Nancy and I found the farmers market in the park and picked up some green stuff.  Then we walked up Main Street and toured several antique shops.  She picked up some plates she was looking for to finish her kitchen.  Florence has more antiques per square foot then anywhere in the world I think.

Also has some things that are just eye catching!

And fun to look at!

The Rose Bud Cafe proved to be a very good choice for breakfast.

A farewell look up the street.

Since I had to be back in Pueblo before 2:00 we loaded Amanda in the car so we could drop her off at her house.  And then I beheld a sight that was not something I was used to seeing!  What appeared to be a man walking his dogs proved to be much more than that.  It was a man walking his dogs alright, but only 2 of them were dogs!  One of the dogs was a cat!   

And a very well behaved cat it was.  I stopped my little Focus right there in the middle of the street, because I am here to tell you, I thought I had gotten some bad weed!  Cats are just way to independent to be led around on a string.  This is the exception.

So say hello to J Roberts and his dogs Taylor and Lucy.  And this, my friends, is 

Mr. Kitty!

So I bid a fond adieu to Mr. J. Roberts and his little family of Florence, Colorado.  You made my day.  Thank you so much and hope to see you the next trip!

Fall colors and the animals are staying close.

Isn't this beautiful?  It is a house up on the corner by Lagree's.  The homeowners really gave some thought to the planting of these trees; red, yellow, green, red, yellow, green.  There is no rhyme nor reason to what happens in my yard at any time of year.  Guess I am a sort of "early morning dig a hole and stick something in it and hope it lives" kind of girl.   I admire this yard.

So, since it is cold tonight, I decide to just watch a little television.  I remember when Kenny used to say he was going to watch a little television, I would tease him because he always fell asleep.  I told him it must be a damn little television because it was hid behind his eyelids.  Sure miss him.  Anyway, I sat down to watch television in my 2400 square foot house and see how everything manages to fit into 2 square feet, most of which is on my lap.

On the left is Elvira wedged between my hip and the chair arm of the recliner.  I like to call it "my recliner", but we know better than that, don't we?  Daisy has her head between my knees and looks at me with sad eyes trying to figure out how to dislodge Elvira and get onto my lap.  Icarus is down on the fuzzy rug acting like she does not care.  I have no idea where my other foot went!  It must be some where!

OK, you guys can have the recliner and I will just stand here and look busy.  So this is how I spend most evenings.  When I am up here on the computer, the Daisy dog is under the desk at my feet and the Elvira is in the dog bed under the buffet.  Icarus is usually on my lap, but tonight she is still down in the big recliner.  I am going to post this and as soon as that is done I will turn off the computer and they will all three run into my bedroom.  Icarus gets her treat on my dresser and the dogs grab thiers and Elvira goes under the bed and Daisy eats hers on the rug.  I hop in bed and it is off to dream land for all of us!  Yes, life is good!

 

 

 

I love my animals. They are the most devoted friends I have.

Ah, here is Icarus.  She is so very tired.  She is always tired.  Here she us in my chair.  When the flash went off it kind of woke her up.  Just a little. 

If you notice her left foot went down just a tiny bit.  Not enough to cause her to get fully woke up.  Just enough so that I knew I better leaver her alone. So I did.  That made her get up and go find a new place to lay. 

There.  The cold hard floor is always better than a nice soft recliner.  And we both know that when she laid down there the dog began to shift his eyes.  The only thing more scary than a cat in front of you, is a cat behind you.  Nope!  Can not trust a cat behind you even if it is sound asleep.  Pretty sure there is no such thing as a sound asleep cat. 

Think I will just go on outside and see what the weather is up to.  I think that cat can move without really moving and get really close and I have seen them claws.  Sure glad she is my friend.

There we go!

 

There is never a dull moment at my house.  I am sure the little dog, Elvira is on her pillow at the end of the couch.   Nope!  Here she is just looking at me and wanting Lord only knows what.  The biggest problem with Elvira is she stays so close to me that sometimes I trip over her.  Her full name is Elvira, Mistress of the Night, but she does not know what that means.

I do not know what I would do without my little animals.  This I do know, friends come and they go.  People tend to be selfish, but my little animals ask absolutely nothing from me.  I feed them and give them fresh water and for this they give me undying devotion.  They are never mean or thoughtless.  They are just always there.  Some times they want petted, but sometimes I want petted to, so it works out.  When I get a dog, it is for life.  I have known people that get a pet and then they decide that it is too big, or too little, or it barks, or it gets out of the fence, or this or that.  Well, I know I am not perfect and sometimes I get out of the fence, but my animals forgive me.  My geese talk to me.  As long as I have my animals I am not sure I really need friends. 

I just wish they could talk!

 

 

Big day today and next week is coming up fast!

I am setting here in my pajama's thinking about what a wonderful time I had at the Chocolate Indulgence last night and this is not a good thing, because pretty quick there are going to be a bunch of people show up here to load books out of my garage.  I told Ross I would make some Monkey Bread and coffee.  But first I have to go feed Nancy's cats.  Well, before that I have to get dressed and here I set.
See, PFLAG is going to have a big book sale up at PCC.  I told you my garage is getting very full!  Also someone is bringing another load of furniture and the place is starting to strain at the seams as it is!  So here is my plan. 
I am going to get dressed.  I will run over and take care of the cats.  I will hurry back here and throw the Monkey bread in the oven and throw together a few breakfast burritos.  After they leave I will clean up my mess and turn on the computer down stairs and download the pictures I took yesterday and hopefully figure out how to do the slide show thing and then do my blog on the Chocolate Indulgence by the YWCA to benefit the women's shelter and domestic violence program.  Empowering women is what it is all about. 
So, you just check back later or maybe even tomorrow and I should have last night's report.  It was a most wonderful event and since this is the first time I have attended it, you will see it through my innocent little eyes!  For now, I am off in search of clothes!
And if you get a chance stop by the Pueblo Community College February 11 & 12 and check out our selection of books.  Going to be something for everyone!  And I will be there both days.  Hopefully I will be dressed!

Off and running!

Going to be a rather fun day today.  First I am meeting my friend Jeanne at Starbucks for coffee.  Been neglecting some of my friends and that has to stop.  Then it is off to church and after that coffee with Dan in all probability.  Got to run by Office Max and pick up some labels and packing supplies.  Then home to figure out just how to pack this spinning wheel to mail through UPS.  Do not want it damaged.  Course I have yet to figure out how to get it in the car!

  Oh, and some where in that I need to stop by Lowe's and check the price on my floors.  Would be much easier if Staples had not ticked me off cause it is right by Lowe's, but they did.  Guess Deven is not going to church with me this morning.  That is alright because I long ago learned to travel on my own.

And let's see, I need to talk to the kids and see what the plan is for Christmas.  And I am going to plot my little vacation next summer.  Surely someone wants to see me!  Anyway, this is just a note to let you know that tomorrow or Tuesday I should be back to the good old days. 

See you then.
 

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Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's entirety. Lou Mercer
               

                                                           

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rocky Mountains

Then and Now, or some damn happy dogs!

This is a picture of Daisy at the pound, before she came to live with us.

This is Elvira at the pound before she came to live with us

Now I ask you this, do these dogs look like the same dogs to you?  No way.  And what I can not understand is why more people do not do the dog pound thing?  I am pretty sure if we had not come along when we did that these two little guys would no longer be just setting there waiting. 

Do not let anyone tell you that dogs do not smile, because these two are showing some serious happiness here.  I love my doggies and they love me.  We have a ritual at night, a ritual in the morning and a ritual all through the day.

And this brings me to the next phase.  I have knowledge of a very nice dog that needs a home.  She is a bigger dog, probably some greyhound and a dash of lord only knows what.  I walk her several times a day as she waits for her master who will not be returning.  She would make a lovely pet for someone who has a bit of land and no cats.  If you are interested, please let me know.

Watch dogs one; intruder zero!

The top picture shows Icarus the cat, Elvira the dog, and the black and white photo is Daisy.  Daisy is the oldest and the ring leader.  Icarus somehow has decided that she is a dog also, and last night proved her metal as a "watch dog."

We went out to close up the geese at our usual time.  For some reason the geese were on full alert.  When I opened the gate Daisy and Elvira tore off to the front gate.  As  they were raising Holy Cain, I hurried to see what was treed over there.  I was halfway to to front gate when three animals shot past me and I turned in time to see Icarus launch herself on something that had just flew by me. 

Lordy! Lordy!  All three of them had a big cat cornered in a corner by the tin shed and the garden fence.  I could see flashes of staggering vet bills for eyes being ripped out, so I ran for the deck knowing full well, three of those animals would follow me.  Luckily that plan worked and I immediately shut the gate, thus giving the intruder the opportunity to escape, which it took full advantage of very quickly.

The excitement being over, we continued to the goose house and our chores for the evening.  The animals were unpertubed by our little intruder and I think they quickly forgot.  I, however, have not.  It was such a treat to see my three little defenders protecting thier kingdom.  Some how I know that those little guys, will keep me safe from harm here on my farm.  Somehow it gives me a feeling of security to know that those three would be all over danger before I could even get my weapon off safety.  They are fearless!

So all you little worry warts out there that think I am helpless can relax.  It would take a complete lunatic to think I am at anyone's mercy.  I would hate to think how far anyone would advance into the room with a calico cat implanted on the top of thier head and anchored with razor sharp claws for added stability.  And how far can one walk with a dog latched on each ankle?  Oh, and nothing slows down a raging intruder like a gaping hole from a 45 slug!

I am in very good hands here and today I am going to make a fresh batch of treats for my little soldiers, but right now they are having a nap.  Been a long night.

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This is a bunch of paper from a box I just unpacked.  If you look closely in the center you can see a black thing.  Do you have any idea at all what that could be?

 Ah!  It suddenly becomes clear, doesn't it?  Icarus, the cat from hell! 

May I have my chair?

I wish I could borrow that note book or see that screen.

Right now the devil cat is climbing through a box of eBay stuff that belongs to some one and I know if I try to make her move there is going to be a bunch of crashing and then I will have broken glass to clean up and something to pay for  that I sure did not need.  She is now peering at me from under the monitor.  Pretty soon she will start swatting at my fingers.  I have no idea how I have managed to keep my Internet up and running with her prowling all over my desk.  I think she can read, so I expect that will be swatted off  pretty soon.

I do not remember how long ago I got this cat.  Seems like over a year.  Hell, it seems like I have always had her.  She was a rescue cat and had just had a litter of kittens.  Of course she was skinny and had the droopy boobies.  Always amazes me how people can neglect an animal, but a lot of them do.  Anyway, when I got her, I kept her inside because I knew she would run away if she got outside.  She would go back to her old home, cause I hear that is what cats do.  Silly me.  She immediately settled in and thought she was a dog.

When I go out to do my chores, my dogs go with me.  Elvira is a Lhaso/Shitzu and Daisy is a Jack Russel Terrier/Wiener dog.  Both rescue dogs and I think I told you Elvira had just had a litter when we got her.  Daisy was just an unfed little runt with two black eyes.  She was Bret's dog.  So here they are, the three of them.

Daisy

Elvira 

Now when I go out there are all three of them with me.  I do not know how that cat knows I am even on the move, but here she comes.  The dogs are never more than 10 feet away, just waiting for some action.  So we go out back and every one of them goes and sniffs everything, but the real action comes when we start for the house.  Icarus and I get to the gate first and have to stand and holler for the busy little dogs.  Icarus settles her self down behind a barrel and waits.  When the first dog arrives she leaps through the air and lands on it's back and rides on into the house.  I have tried to get a picture of that, but all I get is a blur. 

I had to get another printer because the controls on the other one were on top and she kept walking across them and running the scanner.  Guess she was doing "cat scans".   This printer fascinates her and when she hears me hit the print button she jumps up on the desk and peers into the place where the page will come out.  As soon as she sees it coming she grabs at it and if I don't get her first I fear she may be jerked in and spit out the other side.  And it is very hard to read the page after she has shredded it.  Well, the same thing happens in the bathroom.  If the stool is going to be flushed she is going to be with her paws over the side watching it go.

I have often thought about getting another cat to keep her company, but what if I then had 2 devil cats?  No matter where she is during the day, if I set in the recliner and flip  the foot rest out, before it is in the full upright position, Icarus will be on my stomach.  And the first thing she does is knead it for me.  When it is soft enough, she lays down and puts her paws on either side of my throat and turns out just enough claw for me to know that if I push her off my stomach, my jugular vein will be ripped from my throat. 

At night I wake up and find her perched on my shoulder, or laying curled up on the other side of the bed, or staring out the window at Lord only knows what.  But for all my complaining, I love all my animals, even the 13 geese out back.  Guarantee there is not a man walking who could cross that yard if I were not there to run interference.  Guard Geese.  Gotta get that sign up!

Well, I am off to start another day and hopefully I will actually get something done, but I doubt it very much. Today I am babysitting a 2 year old, so it is cuddle time around here!

Have a good one.

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