Friday Morning Coming Down

 

© Jeanne E Webster—All Rights Reserved

~

Enjoying a swing on the patio

Sitting in our little “Rose Garden”

Looking at that pale blue sky

Rain’s gone now, I’ll pardon

~

Blurred with white chalky scrapes

Overhead is a see-through image

Last night’s leftover half-moon

Must ‘a lost the rest in scrimmage

~

Hummingbirds all a’ squeak

A winged rush hour traffic jam

Zooming like mad robotic bees

Deftly loving the ambrosial jamb

~

Gum trees shake off their sleep

Casting shade all over the hills

Cicada males not yet awake

Dreaming of their mating shrills

~

Melodious call of an oriole male

Not yet sipping of my nectar

Crepe myrtle in fuchsia regalia

Rose petals, the sun rays detector

~

A blue jay is squaring off afar

Probably out protecting his mate

Neighborhood roosters a’ crowing

Pleased that the showers did vacate

~

A dull thumping of railroad cars

Mulishly moving down the tracks

Loaded with sooty coal, I guess

Heading up north, a’ clickity-clack

~

A hummer just flew past my nose

Stopped on a dime then returned

Saw my bright red shirt, I reckon

Inching closer, drooled and yearned

~

Ready to propel even closer now

Till I uttered, “I don’t think so!”

Off it flew with a squeak and snip,

In a blaze of its slinky chapeau

~

Bathed my two Cavalier Spaniels

Got my front end as wet as they

But I can’t run around the yard

And shake off and loudly bray

~

Certainly I knew I had better not

What would the neighbors think?

An old lady romping with dogs

Surely needs to visit a shrink

~

But when those baths are done

Oh, to become a little girl again

I’d chase my tail and play dog

Bark and run after the mailmen

~

I’d dance the day away… maybe

But I’m afraid this tired ole body

Would give out fast and furious

Put me to bed with a hot toddy

~

My knees would grate and grit

My hips would start to grumble

The hard ground would beckon

And I’d surely take a tumble

~

But jes’ for the tiniest moment

I would be all tickled and pink

For I’d soon be soaring home

In just about forty odd winks!

 

Annie, Quit Digging!

annie

©2016 Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

Welcome home, Annie. 

Annie came to live with us three years ago, adopted from the local Humane Society as Sweet Pea.  She is a Jack Russell/Rat terrier mix, resulting in an incessant digging dog.  Thankfully she has not picked up the trait too strongly.  Supervising play time in the yard helps curb the habit. Her cell mate, Josey, “barked” her way to our house a few months later, after we decided Annie needed company.  (Josey’s story is in the previous post)

House rules for our girls are: no getting on the furniture whether we are home or not, no potty inside the house, no sniffing out the kitchen garbage can, no fighting over treats or toys, no begging from company, no re-con efforts while we are at the dining table, no digging for moles, mice, snakes, or any other living creatures in the back yard, and no pouncing on baby birds learning to fly.  A special rule applies for Josey:  no sneaking out the front door!  She has escaped three times and it has been quite an exercise for us two old folks to endure!  

Annie is the more active and inquisitive one and keeps her eye on Josey.  If Jo spots something suspicious, she’ll linger near it long enough to peak Annie’s interest.  It’s not long before Mother Hen Annie is over there checking it out. 

While playing in the fenced back yard, they have learned to their own chagrin to be leery of snakes.  Josey found a large garter snake and circled it cautiously and jumped up and down a time or two until Annie came to her rescue.  They teased it in the tall grass until it disappeared down a hole.  I think they both were relieved when the game ended.

We have learned a big dog secret from our girls; they have been training US . . . with great success!  Their sure-fire routine works smoothly: BEG!  Treats are begged for after the first potty call of the day and after all others during the day, at supper time at 5 p.m. sharp, and a bedtime treat at 8 p.m. Annie has pushed that time up to 7:30 so she can savor the treat earlier.

I believe these two characters “saw us coming” when we walked down the cage aisle at the Humane Society, peeking in through the bars to inspect the residents.  How right you were, Annie and Josey!  

 

doggg

footprints

 

 

Missing my girls

misty1

 

© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved.

 

What a cold cloudy brisk April day in in Illinois! My two spaniels took a short walk with me to the barn and back but didn’t want to lollygag around much at all. They got down to business in no time flat and made a beeline for the backdoor. Lacey, the older one, the mother, usually loves to sniff out the ground for rabbits, bob-whites, squirrels, moles, mice, most anything that leaves a trail of treats, if you catch my drift! Her nose never bent beyond her chin today. Her daughter, Misty, trotted behind her, as it’s her habit to only pee and head back for the house on a normal day. She holds off the poopoos until she no longer can keep it from escaping from the rear end. They are good girls, usually. If the ground is wet or it’s raining, that’s another story.

You see, my girls are Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, which were bred purely for the comfort of the king. They are known as lap dogs and that’s where they want to be, 24/7. When the king wanted a dog that had brains, he sought help elsewhere. I guess the queen took priority on her request for a hand warmer or lap sitter. Cavaliers are of a sweet disposition and a dog you cannot over-spoil. They house train well and can manage a few obedience commands. Once in a coon’s age will you find one that masters the entire obedience course #101. But never fear, they more than make up for their short comings by all their cuteness and love.

To get back to rainy days and cavaliers, my girls DO NOT want to even PEEK outside if it’s raining or even thinking about raining. Lacey will look at Misty and I know the “R” word has been passed. “She’s going to try to walk us today. I smell RAIN!” So always trying to please, I made them raincoats. Pretty red ones. I don’t need to tell you what they think of them. It would not be nice. They do wear them when out for a rainy walk, but as soon as we return to the mud room, the coats are yanked off their backs as if they smelled like bath towels. That’s another story.

Cavaliers do not like baths either. They will tolerate them, I must give them credit. But enjoy them, NO. However, since they sleep in my bed, “We must have clean bottoms and feet, girls!” I think Lacey and Misty are psychic. I cannot sneak in bath time, no matter how hard I try. I’ll walk through the living room nonchalant, go about my business of doing housework or fixing supper. When they’re not watching me, I’ll quietly sneak to the bathroom closet, grab some towels and quietly tiptoe to the mudroom. Turning around, I check to see if I’ve been discovered and yep, the alarm has sounded. Before I can set the towels down on the washer, my two precious darlings have disappeared. Lacey will be in the bedroom under the bed, where she goes sometimes for a nap. Misty will be circling in the dining room still trying to decide which way to go. Like I said, she is “gifted.” Once the bath is over, we are a happy family once more. And, girl, do we smell good!

Well, where was I? Yes, it was a cool brisk day here in Illinois. My husband and I drove to our favorite local Wal-Mart, stocked up on food and incidentals, medicine for my sinus infection and a daily newspaper. On our way home the sun actually came out for a few minutes but decided it wasn’t worth it, so disappeared as fast as cavaliers can say “bath.”

I’m thinking about what I’ll fix for supper. Probably turkey burgers, baked potatoes, salad, and dessert. The girls get to help pick up frills that fall from the countertops while food is prepared. When we begin the serving process, it’s time for them to rest in their recliner for the duration. They know there will always be a small tidbit left over when the meal has ended. The day is almost past and the evening is just beginning. So off we go to the kitchen and our usual supper routine.

A good evening to you all and a good night’s sleep.

*This story was written many years ago, and I’m missing my girls who have passed on but remain in my heart. Just needed to share a precious bit of my blessings called Cavalier King Charles Spaniels.

Superstitious…Nah!

 

.

Friday Morning-Coming Down

© Jeanne E Webster

.

Enjoying a swing on the patio

Sitting in our little “Rose Garden”

Looking at that pale blue sky

Rain’s a no-show, I’ll pardon

.

Blurred with white chalky scrapes

Overhead is a see-through image

Last night’s leftover half-moon

Must ’a lost the rest in scrimmage

.

Hummingbirds all a’ squeak

A winged rush hour traffic jam

Zooming like mad robotic bees

Deftly loving the ambrosial jamb

.

Gum trees shake off their sleep

Casting shade all over the hills

Cicada males not yet awake

Dreaming of their mating shrills

.

Melodious call of an oriole male

Not yet sipping of my nectar

Crepe myrtle in fuchsia regalia

Rose petals, the sun rays detector

.

A blue jay is squaring off afar

Probably out protecting his mate

Neighborhood roosters a’ crowing

Pleased that the night did vacate

.

A dull thumping of railroad cars

Mulishly moving down the tracks

Loaded with sooty coal, I guess

Heading up north, a’ clickity-clack

.

A hummer just flew past my nose

Stopped on a dime then returned

Saw my bright red shirt, I reckon

Inching closer, drooled and yearned

.

Ready to propel even closer now

Till I uttered, “I don’t think so!”

Off it flew with a squeak and snip,

In a blaze of its slinky chapeau

.

Bathed my two Cavalier Spaniels

Got my front end as wet as they

But I can’t run around the yard

And shake off and loudly bray

.

Certainly I knew I had better not

What would the neighbors think?

An old lady romping with dogs

Surely needs to visit a shrink

.

But when those baths are done

Oh, to become a little girl again

I’d chase my tail and play dog

Bark and run after the mailmen

.

I’d dance the day away… maybe

But I’m afraid this tired ole body

Would give out fast and furious

Put me to bed with a hot toddy

.

My knees would grate and grit

My hips would start to grumble

The hard ground would beckon

And I’d surely take a tumble

.

But jes’ for the tiniest moment

I would be all tickled and pink

For I’d soon be soaring home

In just about forty odd winks!

God, Ain’t Love Grand?

©Jeanne E Webster

She lays sleeping, her chest heaving up and down, sometimes pausing, sometimes hurrying, once in a while skipping out of sync.  That’s my girl, Misty, my friend of seven years– since I helped her mother birth her that early morning so long ago.  She came out all slobbered up with slimy stuff and looked like a heaved-up lunch that hadn’t digested well.  As she entered my world, I cleaned off her nose and mouth so she could grab some air into her lungs.  She was not quite free from the womb when she let out a feeble howl, sounded like a wolf cub howling at the moon.  Then she searched frantically for the teats; she was hungry.  That was my girl, Misty, a black & tan Cavalier King Charles spaniel. 

I hadn’t intended to keep her but as things worked out, that’s what happened.  I sold her to a person 350 miles away, met her halfway, turned around and drove back home with a heavy heart.  You see, I had trained her to be a little girls’ dog, which got to sleep on the bed, play gentle like, and be that little girl’s best friend.  She ended up being my best friend.  Two weeks later, I got a call—the girl was allergic to dogs and we were looking at a refund.  I brought Misty back home and we’ve never parted since. 

Now I look down upon her sweet little face and I see the wee one I reared so long ago.  But only for a moment.  Now she has a heart problem, takes medicine twice a day, walks slowly since suffering a stroke 2 months ago, has a balance problem and her right side is discombobulated.  Her muzzle is graying and kind of crinkled up on one side, allows for drooling.  But she’s still my girl.  She peers at me like I am a stranger, yet she always did love anyone who would pet her or give her a treat.  Her mother died only a month ago of heart failure but I don’t think she misses her.  The stroke left her missing a few cylinders. 

I look at her and my own limitations pounce forth into my mind.  I too am aging, have curbed eyesight, loose teeth, hearing constraints, arthritic limbs, and a slight heart problem.  We’re joint heirs in this life.   My thoughts dwell on my final days ahead and I know the Lord has prepared an angel to walk with me to shore up my failings.  I’ll be there for Misty when she enters into her final rest, just like I did a month ago with her mother.  We sat up all night, Lacey and me, talking and petting, crying and smiling, wishing and praying… till it was time   .   .   .    and I’ll be there with Misty too, even though it’ll break my heart again.  But that’s life .   .   .and love.

Friday Morning-Coming Down

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~

©Jeanne E. Webster

~

Enjoying a swing on the patio

Sitting in our little “Rose Garden”

Looking at that pale blue sky

Rain’s gone now, I’ll pardon

~

Blurred with white chalky scrapes

Overhead is a see-through image

Last night’s leftover half-moon

Must ’a lost the rest in scrimmage

~

Hummingbirds all a’ squeak

A winged rush hour traffic jam

Zooming like mad robotic bees

Deftly loving the ambrosial jamb.

~

Gum trees shake off their sleep

Casting shade all over the hills

Cicada males not yet awake

Dreaming of their mating shrills

~

Melodious call of an oriole male

Not yet sipping of my nectar

Crepe myrtle in fuchsia regalia

Rose petals, the sun rays detector

~

A blue jay is squaring off afar

Probably out protecting his mate

Neighborhood roosters a’ crowing

Pleased that the showers did vacate

~

A dull thumping of railroad cars

Mulishly moving down the tracks

Loaded with sooty coal, I guess

Heading up north, a’ clickity-clack

~

A hummer just flew past my nose

Stopped on a dime then returned

Saw my bright red shirt, I reckon

Inching closer, drooled and yearned

~

Ready to propel even closer now

Till I uttered, “I don’t think so!”

Off it flew with a squeak and snip,

In a blaze of its slinky chapeau

~

Bathed my two Cavalier Spaniels

Got my front end as wet as they

But I can’t run around the yard

And shake off and loudly bray

~

Certainly I knew I had better not

What would the neighbors think?

An old lady romping with dogs

Surely needs to visit a shrink

~

But when those baths are done

Oh, to become a little girl again

I’d chase my tail and play dog

Bark and run after the mailmen

~

I’d dance the day away… maybe

But I’m afraid this tired ole body

Would give out fast and furious

Put me to bed with a hot toddy.

~

My knees would grate and grit

My hips would start to grumble

The hard ground would beckon

And I’d surely take a tumble

~

But jes’ for the tiniest moment

I would be all tickled and pink

For I’d soon be soaring home

In just about forty odd winks!

 

~

Dog Flu–Baby Birds–And Such

Army Sgt. William A. Peyton, Jr. a JDOG dog ha...

Image via Wikipedia

 

We are having a teaser day, where the middle of February psyches the body into thinking it is spring already. It’s 70°, the sun is shining and the wind is blowing moderately. We’ve swept the bird seed leavings off the patio from the winter feeders dropouts, picked up the neighbor’s paper products that have flown so willingly into our back yard and nested in each crevice available, disposed of the four-month long dumping of recycled dog food, finally put the Halloween scarecrow back up in the barn loft and are making our list and checking it twice from the seed catalogs. A day like this is hard to part with, and I’m sure that we will have to do in another day or two. Rain is on the way also which will dampen the fields and ease up the “no burn” orders emanating from the city offices. This winter has been very kind, gifting us with enough snow to pamper us into humming “I’ll be home for Christmas.” Santa was able to make it down most chimneys and not too many houses burned down due to dried out trees.

The flu season has arrived and downed me with a moderate dose of its infectious dribbling, coughing and sneezing. I do not receive flu shots anymore due to an allergic reaction a few years ago so I wait it out and make sure my husband gets his shot. The vaccines developed these days are supposed to do the trick, whatever the trick is. Some folks still end up getting a flu of some kind, due to the fact there are hundreds of viruses out there and only a few vaccines to prevent some of them from harming us.

Any dog owners out there? I hope your veterinarian has informed you that there is a dog flu out there waiting to pounce on your dog. If you’ve heard that then you were probably advised to get your pooch a flu shot. My first reaction to the advice was that it was a scam to boost up the tab. No! It’s the real thing and is spreading to most of the lower 48 States. This dog flu is rather nasty and can severely harm or kill older dogs and puppies. My two girls got their shots and will do so every winter, as they have heart conditions and getting older. So far the cats get off scot-free. I think. Since I’m a dog lover, I think that’s profiling. But then again, who asked me?!

An update on our baby cockatiels: we’re up to two hatched babies. Jake and Molly are feeding them and have turned out to be quite proficient parents. There is one more egg to hatch, which should be tomorrow. I think I hear cheeping inside, so I’ll say there will be another egg hatching tomorrow. The first one hatched Saturday and is much bigger than the #2 baby. He or she is huge! Remember that little cotton ball image I mentioned? It is up to a golf ball size! Number 2 is in the cotton ball stage. I hope the latter guys can catch up with the monster. He has a big head start. More news as it comes.

I’m planning on shrimp for supper so had better go get it readied. A nice tossed salad with it and some spicy rice will top it off nicely. A good evening to you and we’ll see you tomorrow. ~shalom