Poopettes

We are proud to announce that we have been (temporarily?) adopted by "Chewy" and "Prancer".

On Friday morning, a young couple came by inquiring whether or not these two young pups belonged to us, seeing that we had four dogs in the yard. Of course they weren't, but the couple couldn't take them with them - they already had ten dogs of their own! – so I decided to hold onto them in case they were escapees belonging to someone in the area. After further inspection - and a bit of de-ticking - it appears that they might be "drop-offs": pups that are unwanted by their owners. This happens way too much down here, but it is a fact of a dog's life in these islands.

This morning, however, our trusted and beloved gardener Josie tells us that the pups belonged to the new owner of the house at the end of our road. Considering the condition of these dogs, they no longer answer to that house and we still suspect the owner of the house let them out on purpose (they also have a vicious pit-bull which does not like puppies, so we are told).

Two days later, I discover that all of our dogs are ‘drama queens’: two are on hunger strikes, not having eaten their dinners in two days; Ben – our bigger Shepherd – thinks he has been banished from another family unit once again (he really is a sad-sack otherwise) and is now very timid about entering the house; and, “Garbage Guts” Elvis – the reigning “Queen”, as it were, who normally and oh, so woefully howls at feeding time for food (and will happily clean out any scraps left by the others whether they’ve finished their dinners or not), lay possum-like at the side of the pool, rolling his eyes pitifully to say, “You’ve already replaced me. I am dead to you. Just shove me into the canal, why don’t you? I’ll eventually drift out to sea.”

It's times like this I don't regret not having kids.

Whether we keep the pups remains to be seen – this depends on our original brood. I must keep them separate because of their size (our dogs will render them like they might a cat that strayed into our yard). Hopefully they will soon get their noses of out joint and accept them (Elvis is not long for this world, I’m afraid). I really didn’t think they would be so jealous of these young ones – but aren’t they soooooo CUTE???!!!

Heh heh.

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It Reach!

Well, I actually stayed awake to witness the totality of the lunar eclipse last night (this morning).  This was not an easy task for me.   I got very little sleep afterwards and I am now practically fighting the Sirens of slumber.  Having said that, I apologize, in advance, for the length of this post.

There is something mystical about a full moon:  some say it's romantic, others say it brings out the craziness in people.  Wolves, coyotes and dogs are known to howl at the moon.

And, with it being eclipsed last night, I can certainly say it brought out my 'crazies'.  In the hope I could capture a video of the event to show all of you who were under cloudy skies, I decided to stay awake and set my laptop outside, pointing skywards, to record the event.

I also grabbed my camera to take a few stills however I do not have a tripod and I knew the pics wouldn't be great, but I took some anyway.  With the laptop recording, I snapped a few shots and, suddenly, the camera's battery was about to die.  This was about 2:15 a.m EST.  I grabbed my extra battery and plugged it in hoping to charge it up enough to catch a shot or two of the total eclipse that was supposed to occur around 2:45 a.m.

Since the moon was so high in the sky and, in order to steady the camera, I had to lie (lay? - I still can't get that one right) down on the bench that surrounds the pool.

Click, click, click.  Battery dies.  It's 2:40 a.m.  I run into the house to grab the other battery and head back outside.  Apparently my dogs - four in all - heard me in the backyard and came running.  I didn't have time to click another photo since all of them were mugging me, whining and wondering why I was still awake and lying on my back outside, in the cold.

I quickly secured my laptop from becoming the latest of dog toys and headed back into the house with the mutts in tow.  I tried to go back and grab a few more photos but Chase (my youngest dog) was stuck to my ass like Velcro (also one of her nicknames) and I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to lie (lay?) down and take any more shots.

Wait.  It gets worse.

After pouring myself a nightcap, I sit down to take a quick look at the video.  Suddenly, I hear a key turn the lock in our front door.  WTF?  It's just after 3 a.m.  In walks Josie, our Haitian gardener who works for us on Sundays.  Josie is also a loyal and dear friend.  Since my stepfather passed and we are two "vite vimen living alone", he looks in on us almost every morning - usually at around 6 a.m. - starts the coffee and takes the trash out to the curb on collection days.

I ask why he is here at 3 a.m. and he said it isn't 3.a.m. (we argue a lot, by the way).  I assured him that it was.  He checked his cell phone.  Oh, no! he groans and then laughs at himself.  He thought it was 5 a.m.  It was pointless to drive him home at that time of day/night and since it was rather chilly and he'd only have to start walking back as soon as I dropped him off, I stuck him in my car to catch a couple of hours of sleep and, of course, to keep warm.  It would appear that the time on his clock at home was incorrectly set.

So, back to the laptop I go.  By this time I was sooooo tired, all I wanted was to go to sleep.  When I went to turn off my computer, it asked me to save the video.  Fine.  As I am changing the folder location for the file, the video disappears!  There it is - gone!

Crap.

So, as not to disappoint, here are a few of the 'best' pics I got with my camera, sans nose prints from my dogs.  They are not great, but hey, I gave it a shot.

 

The ghost reflections from the lens gives them a bit of an omnious appearance.
The bottom left shot was taken just before the total eclipse (when my battery died).

Murphy leaves on Thursday.



You Haven't Left Yet??

I was totally stumped for a post for this Theme Thursday when, all of a sudden, I heard a familiar cry from across the canal.  Well, maybe more like a screech, or the sound a cat makes when you step on its tail.  You see, there is a very loud and noisy parrot that lives across the waterway.  I concede that this post isn't particularly imaginative on this week's theme, or particularly humourous for that matter, but it sort of involves the colour of blue.

At any rate, the neighbouring parrot reminded me of a day years ago when I lived out in the country.

Not far away lived some friends who trained and bred dogs and had a small kennel on their property.  One summer, they were invited to an all-day wedding affair that was quite a distance away.  Since they probably wouldn't get home until later that evening, I volunteered to look in on the dogs.

Their kennel consisted of some six or seven mastiffs - one dog was always left inside the house as a guard.  They also had a blue and gold macaw who's name was Boomer.  Boomer was very loud when he squawked and screeched and could be very annoying when he was hungry or wanting attention.  Cheryl and David (not their real names) got Boomer a few years earlier.  Macaws are very intelligent birds and can be taught to speak.  Boomer, on rare occasions, would say a word or two, but usually when no visitors were around.

I should mention here that this kennel was the ultimate alarm system:  anyone coming up the driveway would be announced by continuous barking until David came out and hollered at them to be quiet.

So, on this hot summer day, I arrived at around 3 p.m.  All the windows in the house were open to vent the heat.  The dogs, as expected, were barking like mad and it was extremely loud.  I had to shout as best as I could to be recognized as a friend.  They were having none of it.   When I started towards the kennel so they could see me,  I heard David's voice coming from the house, yelling his usual command at the canines.

David and Cheryl were supposed to leave early this morning, I thought to myself.   "David, are you still here?   No response.  "Hello?  Did you forget something?", I called as I approached the house; the dogs still barking wildly.  Just before I reached the door, David's voice again bellowed in a more succinct manner, "Shut - the - fuck - up!"  It got eerily quieter.  I'd swear on a stack of bibles that it was David's voice that I had heard, but after I searched the house and was satisfied that no one was there, it finally dawned on me that the voice could only have originated from one source:  Boomer.  From that day on, I never heard Boomer speak a single word other than gobbledigook.  I'm sure he was laughing at me.

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This is a Theme Thursday post  - check out the others!