I'll be in the cabinet
Our little clan is doing the cabin-by-the-lake (or "the cabinet" as my daughter calls it) thing next week, so I'll be offline for a little while. P and I are looking forward to hanging out and doing nothing. The kid can't understand how we could possibly be excited about going somewhere that doesn't even have rides.
I'm curious to see if our newer adoptee, Gretchen, will dig the water. Having met hundreds of Boxers during my ten-year adventure in rescue, I can attest to the fact that most of them do not care for water and do not swim. As my friend Dave says, "My Boxer swims like an anvil." They are very muscular and hence, don't float well at all. The front end is much heavier than the back, making it harder for them to keep their heads above water. Nonetheless, a few of them do like water and having seen Gretchen in action with the sprinkler in the back yard, I think she may just give the lake a try. We'll see. I told P I might get her a doggie life jacket and he looked at me like I was already aboard the crazy train.
Speaking of Gretchen, she did a number on me last night. I took the kid to the county fair for a few hours after work. Styx was playing later in the evening but we weren't staying for that. We had a great time hitting the rides, eating junk, and visiting the exhibits. A nice 4H mom let A come into a stall and pet her daughter's horse. We also met a man with cerebral palsy who makes greeting cards (using a pen attached to a contraption on his head), so we bought a couple. A was curious about him and the man's mom was kind enough to explain his condition to my daughter. I think she is just getting to the age where she realizes that not everyone is born with the same abilities and opportunities, that it is a blessing just to have working hands and limbs. Honestly, he was less afflicted than many of the aging Styx fans who were at the fair last night.
But getting back to the dog . . . it was dark when we got home and I let the dogs out right away. I unpacked our gear and then opened the back door to let them back in. Gretchen hopped up on the deck and then deposited a squirrel's head directly in front of the door. It took me a moment just to realize what I was looking at. It was like one of those "what's wrong with this picture?" games where you find objects that don't make sense within that frame of reference. Like a cat wearing sneakers and a top hat. When I realized it was the head of a squirrel, I felt a wave of nausea pass through me. My stomach sent a message to my brain along the lines of, "You were already pushing your luck by sending down cotton candy directly after the cheese curds. Do not put me over the edge by looking at bloody dead things."
I closed the door and tried to figure out what to do. P was at work and wasn't answering his cell phone. I called my friend Kathy so that she could come and get it, but she was all, "I live two hours away blah blah blah." I really need to find some friends who are more dedicated.
Eventually I got in touch with my other half and informed him that he needed to deal with a dead squirrel when he got home. My assumption was that Gretchen had killed the squirrel, but she did not have any blood on her. I didn't venture out into the yard with a flashlight to find the body, though I assumed it must be out there somewhere. He checked this morning after the sun came up and found another squirrel part, but not the whole body. We have no idea how these gruesome remnants ended up in our little yard, but I guess Gretchen was not the culprit. Granted, she would definitely kill a squirrel if she got the chance, but I doubt she would behead it and all that jazz. She caught several birds this summer and typically she seems more keen on torturing the animals than killing and dismembering them.
Anyway, I need some bleach to scrub the image of that little grey head out of my brain. It's gonna take more than a few vodka cranberries while I'm on vacation, but I'll give it my best shot.
I'll leave you with this little ditty from Passion Pit. I've been grooving to their tunes on my iPod for the past few weeks (the video is almost a year old but I guess I don't get out much).
I'm curious to see if our newer adoptee, Gretchen, will dig the water. Having met hundreds of Boxers during my ten-year adventure in rescue, I can attest to the fact that most of them do not care for water and do not swim. As my friend Dave says, "My Boxer swims like an anvil." They are very muscular and hence, don't float well at all. The front end is much heavier than the back, making it harder for them to keep their heads above water. Nonetheless, a few of them do like water and having seen Gretchen in action with the sprinkler in the back yard, I think she may just give the lake a try. We'll see. I told P I might get her a doggie life jacket and he looked at me like I was already aboard the crazy train.
Speaking of Gretchen, she did a number on me last night. I took the kid to the county fair for a few hours after work. Styx was playing later in the evening but we weren't staying for that. We had a great time hitting the rides, eating junk, and visiting the exhibits. A nice 4H mom let A come into a stall and pet her daughter's horse. We also met a man with cerebral palsy who makes greeting cards (using a pen attached to a contraption on his head), so we bought a couple. A was curious about him and the man's mom was kind enough to explain his condition to my daughter. I think she is just getting to the age where she realizes that not everyone is born with the same abilities and opportunities, that it is a blessing just to have working hands and limbs. Honestly, he was less afflicted than many of the aging Styx fans who were at the fair last night.
But getting back to the dog . . . it was dark when we got home and I let the dogs out right away. I unpacked our gear and then opened the back door to let them back in. Gretchen hopped up on the deck and then deposited a squirrel's head directly in front of the door. It took me a moment just to realize what I was looking at. It was like one of those "what's wrong with this picture?" games where you find objects that don't make sense within that frame of reference. Like a cat wearing sneakers and a top hat. When I realized it was the head of a squirrel, I felt a wave of nausea pass through me. My stomach sent a message to my brain along the lines of, "You were already pushing your luck by sending down cotton candy directly after the cheese curds. Do not put me over the edge by looking at bloody dead things."
I closed the door and tried to figure out what to do. P was at work and wasn't answering his cell phone. I called my friend Kathy so that she could come and get it, but she was all, "I live two hours away blah blah blah." I really need to find some friends who are more dedicated.
Eventually I got in touch with my other half and informed him that he needed to deal with a dead squirrel when he got home. My assumption was that Gretchen had killed the squirrel, but she did not have any blood on her. I didn't venture out into the yard with a flashlight to find the body, though I assumed it must be out there somewhere. He checked this morning after the sun came up and found another squirrel part, but not the whole body. We have no idea how these gruesome remnants ended up in our little yard, but I guess Gretchen was not the culprit. Granted, she would definitely kill a squirrel if she got the chance, but I doubt she would behead it and all that jazz. She caught several birds this summer and typically she seems more keen on torturing the animals than killing and dismembering them.
Anyway, I need some bleach to scrub the image of that little grey head out of my brain. It's gonna take more than a few vodka cranberries while I'm on vacation, but I'll give it my best shot.
I'll leave you with this little ditty from Passion Pit. I've been grooving to their tunes on my iPod for the past few weeks (the video is almost a year old but I guess I don't get out much).
Comments
Notice, I didn't volunteer to come over and help with that myself!