The Cure?

     Today I'm stepping off the cat/dog blog train to take a ride on the thought train.

     There is a technology in this era that is even better than sliced bread, although I know there is probably a couple of generations who have grown up believing bread has always been sliced.  I would even be willing to place a wager that this one simple thing could save humanity and cure many illnesses.

     What is this fantastic wonder?  The ability to pause live TV.

     There is nothing better than to sit down to watch a favorite television show, that has been paused for about an hour, and be able to skip through all of the commercials.  

     The reason I believe this is the answer to saving life on the planet is because almost every commercial is about some new medicine and their very long list of side effects.  I was going to write down all the medicine commercials the other evening, but there were so many I was afraid I would have all the ailments by the end of the night.  There was even a commercial for a treatment of an ailment that you do not have........WHAT?

     In her book, E-Squared: Nine Do-It-Yourself Energy Experiments That Prove Your Thoughts Create Reality, Pam Grout recalls a story from another book, The Biology of Belief, by Bruce Lipton, a cell biologist who used to teach at Stanford University. A doctor conducting some research took two groups of patients who had knee problems.  The first group had knee surgery, the second group thought they had knee surgery.  The second group simply had an incision made to look as though they had gone under the knife. The results?  Both groups got better.  THAT was a pretty powerful placebo!

     The mind is a wonderful thing but it is the beliefs it holds that either keep us down or make us soar to new heights.  Those thoughts and beliefs can also make us sick.  This is not to say we should doubt all medical miracles.  Mother was a prodigy of modern medicine, living far longer than her siblings or her parents. She also believed that all the bottles of pills, and there were lots of them, made her better.  Mother also had a friend, who was about the same age, who quit taking all her medicine, and this person lived a very long life too.  My youngest daughter, who is studying to become a doctor of chiropractic, has learned that practically every ailment is due to stress.  Where does the stress come from?  It comes from what goes on between our ears and what we choose to believe as truth.

     My hope is for everyone who has the ability to pause live TV to do so.  Fast forward through all those commercials!  Don't let those ads plant a seed of doubt in your grey matter.  There are far more wonderful things to think about and getting sick shouldn't be one of them.

     

     

Things That Go Bump.....In the Day

     The cat was sitting on the spiral staircase, about five steps up.  It's the perfect place to be to torment the dog.  Tigger knows that Runtly can't climb the steps, at least not yet.

     Runtly was laying in his portable bed at the bottom of the stairs. I call it portable because every once in a while I see it flying from one room to another, usually during a period of doggy boredom.

     Runtly knows better than to try the steps so he just camps out at the bottom of them.  He can still see the cat, in case Tigger tries to make a sly move to escape.

     Tigger loves this dog about as much as the dog loves the cat, but he prefers to play with him on his own playing field which is outside.  The cat knows he really isn't supposed to be in the house because Mr. Nolikesanimals has made that rather clear to him.  It is said that elephants do not forget.....neither do cats.  Even when the cat knows Mr. Nolikesanimals (who is becoming Mr. GeeIlikethis dog) is not in the house, Tigger always looks to make sure Mr. N's chair is empty.

     Tigger is content to sit on the staircase.  The smug look on his face says it all to the dog...."nana nana do do, you can't get me".

     I was standing in the door way watching them.  The cat was now lounging on the step and Runtly was nearly asleep in his bed.  I had my chance.  A chance to go to the basement, unattended.  I took a couple of steps backward and then tiptoed to the basement stairs.

     I swear I wasn't down there three minutes when the thumping and bumping started right above my head.  As I listened I was trying to determine which dog toy he was playing with.  Maybe it was the cat slamming Runtly on the floor for all the times he has bitten Tigger.  I finally gave up on my solitude and went back up the stairs.

     Runtly and Tigger were in the exact same positions I had left them in.  The only difference was they both had a look on their faces that said, "What?"

A Crock Full

     In the living room, on the floor, sits a large crock-like bowl. I have no idea where it came from but I'm sure it is quite old.  It has probably seen days of warm weather picnics with its interior filled to the brim with potato salad or fried chicken.  It could tell many a tale of years gone by.  Days before cell phones and the internet, perhaps even before telephones were a household staple.

     The only time I can recall using the bowl was to hold some lovely colorful cloth napkins that I thought were a good, "green", idea.  I rolled them into neat little bundles and placed them into the bowl and then it sat in the middle of the table.  Since everyone preferred paper napkins the cloth ones went untouched.  When they began to gather dust, I put them in a drawer and placed the large crock-like bowl back in the cabinet.

     The bowl now has a new function.  It has become a toy chest of sorts.  Not the kind that holds children's toys, there is a large wooden chest on the other side of the room for that purpose, but the kind that holds dog toys.

     I was going to use a pretty wicker basket for this purpose but it did not take long for me to remember that a wicker basket would not survive the jaws of the chew monster that now lives in this house.  Runtly, our new Jack Russell Terrier, could easily chew up a steel anvil.

     Every evening, I pick up all the doggy toys and place them in the bowl.  My goal is to teach Runtly this trick.  Every morning, Runtly slowly and methodically takes each one out and packs it to the office to place them in front of the heat register.  Just like a child, he plays only a short time with whatever item he has selected before going to retrieve the next.  

     When the bowl is empty, except for the small slick plastic ball, which is much more fun to chase around in the nearly empty bowl, Runtly takes a nap, toys strewn hither and yon.

     Teaching Runtly to pick up his toys should be interesting.  I wonder if he will get "rubber legs" like the kids would do when they were 'forced' to pick up.

     Most parents would probably agree that when our children were young, we wondered if we would ever get to use the bathroom by ourselves again.  I'm wondering that again too.

     

Dog (& Cat) Days

     Having a new puppy in the house is much like having a new baby in the house.  Usually, with a new baby, one has time to prepare the home beforehand.  With a surprise puppy there were no beforehand preparations.

     As with new human babies, the house is now littered with many toys and lots of small blankets.  Jack Russell Terriers love lots of small blankets.  There are many times during the day that I have observed a small blanket flying through the kitchen on its way to be pounced upon in front of the heat register in the office.

     There are also lots of child/dog safety gates in the house now, especially since Runtly has already taken two trips down the basement stairs.  The trips were neither pretty nor graceful.  But, as I watched in horror as he bounced off of each step, I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally got to the basement floor. He hopped up and took off for a new adventure.  The basement has lots of things to investigate.

     I'm not sure who is training who.  My initial goal was to house train Runtly, with an area that is considered the doggy bathroom. The recent Arctic Vortex that has hit the area has temperatures in the single digits and windchill factors below zero.  Runtly is tiny, with very short hair and I thought it much too cold to take him out. Actually, it's much too cold for me.  This morning though, I relented and took him out as soon as I got up.  

     While we were out and Runtly was sniffing every leaf in the yard, I heard a woeful sound.  It was Tigger.  Tigger rarely meows but when he does it usually means he wants in......or, he wants out. Tigger and the queen cat, Pussycat, stay in the garage in my small heated shop at night.  Pussycat is old and hasn't seen the outside for days.  She is purrfectly happy to stay in her straw filled box and wile away the cold days in near hibernation.  

     Tigger was supposed to be in the shop and I could not figure out where he was or what he might be trapped in.  As I came around the end of the garden, I heard him again.  Runtly was still tagging along behind, with his sniff-o-meter nose turned on its highest setting.  Another loud wail from the cat and I located him.  He was still in the shop, sitting in the window......that he had opened....not just a little bit, but completely open.  The only thing keeping him from the great cold outdoors was the screen.

     I went into the garage and opened the shop door, Tigger was there, ready to dash out.  I stepped into the shop to close the window.  Pussycat looked up from her cozy box and gave me a look that said, "Geeze, it's about time you came after him."  She likes Tigger about as much as she likes Runtly....and that isn't much.  I know she could not hear Tigger wailing because she is deaf, but the look also let me know the room temperature was cooling off with the window wide open, interfering with her hibernation state.

     By this time, I was frozen to the bone.  I headed back to the house with Runtly and Tigger chasing each other in a zig zag pattern through the yard.  It looked like a scene from "Homeward Bound". Once inside, Runtly was more than happy to jump straight up and down in anticipation for his breakfast.

     The only bad part about the whole morning adventure is I have no idea if Runtly ever did do the potty thing while we were out there.  If I was a betting person, I'd say he did not.





     

Strategic Moves

     A few miles from here is a large warehouse full of antiques.  I've been there once, with Lela and Blanche......something I wish not to do ever again.  While there, scanning over acres of glassware, old furniture and tons of nick knacks in general, I came to the conclusion that this is what happens to all of our stuff when the kids don't want it.

     As I walk through my own home, I notice I have a lot of stuff that was Mothers.  I am certain that I have more of her items than do Lela and Blanche.  That is probably because Mother and I lived in the same town, and the other two live away, it was much easier to leave it here, than take with.

     One of the things I do have was a favorite of Mother's, her 4 hook bird feeder pole, complete with a squirrel guard.

     The squirrel guard never stays where I put it.  No matter how many times I tighten the bolt, it always slips down the pole in a day or two and somehow stops about six inches from the ground.  It's not that big of a deal to me, the squirrels have a huge pecan tree in the neighbors yard and rarely bother the feeders.

     I looked out the kitchen window the other day to see how many feathered friends were visiting when I noticed something that made me laugh out loud.  Tigger, the cat, was underneath the squirrel guard.  He must have thought he was in stealth mode.

     Being yellow in color, he stands out like a sore thumb.  The birds have a small tree, not too far from the feeders, that they like to gather in and chat about who is going to go first.  Even if birds can not see color, and I have no idea about that, I'm relatively certain they can see the cat.  

     Tigger is not hungry, he's just a cat and that's what cats do, they hunt.  Cats also like to share their unfortunate prey with their family.  Any outdoor cat owner will have a list of unlucky small creatures that have been left on the mat by the most used access door to the house.  I've found several small rodents and a couple of birds right outside the back door.  Many years ago, Lela had a cat that brought home a snake.

     Of all the grace that a cat can possess, there is one thing they do not have control over, the very tip of their tail.  I think that must have been the Master of the Universe's way of evening the playing field for whatever prey was in the cross hairs of the feline species.

     Tigger has no exception to this rule.  I looked out at his covert mission to see the very end of his tail twitching ever so slightly, sticking out from under the squirrel guard.  It has to be really hard to be really still with that many birds so close.

     The birds paid him no attention, after all, they know their rightful place in the pecking order of things, no pun intended, and continued to devour as many seeds as possible.  I figured they were safe because Tigger just did fit under the guard and it was not going to be easy for him to leap out without causing a ruckus. 

     Later in the day, while heading out the back door, during one of the MANY pit stops with the new dog, Runtly, there laid what was left of the latest victim.  Feathers.  At least that is what I thought. Being much closer to the ground than myself, Runtly had discovered the bird's head on the door mat.  I had to pry open his mouth, with its 20 pounds of torque pressure, to be able to shake and release the birdie body part.  Bird heads must be the least tasty part.

     I do not know if Tigger caught the bird from the feeders or if he gave up and nabbed one out of the bushes that line one side of the yard.  Whatever game plan he used, it worked and he continues to use the cover of darkness of the squirrel guard for his sniper position.

     

      

Day 13

     My proofreader told me I now had endless blog content.  She may be right.

     I remember when my first grandson was born.  We would go out for supper every Friday night with a group of friends, "The Supper Club".  Every Friday night I would bore the group to tears with new pictures of my grandson.  

     Now that I have a new dog, it may be the same scenario.

     I was there when Runtly was born, one of seven tiny Jack Russell Terrier puppies.  If you missed that episode, you can refer back to "And Then There Were Seven".  He was so tiny and not very handsome.  I felt kind of sorry for him, thinking the other pups might not let him play any reindeer/puppy games because of his stature. When I would stop to visit and check on their progress, I always held Runtly.  After all, he was easy to pick out of the squirming white mass of puppies because he was so tiny.  

     All of these puppies were supposed to be sold.  I began to limit my visits because of this.  On Christmas Eve, during a family gathering, my son-in-law took a phone call.  It was someone from Iowa, they were in town to pick up Runtly, he was the last to go.

     I thought I knew that I was going to get Runtly.  There had been too much "puppy" talk going on, especially from my husband, Mr. Nolikeanimals.  But, later in the evening, when my son-in-law posted a picture of Runtly saying "good bye" in the arms of some unknown Iowan on Facebook, my heart sank.  He was gone.....no Runtly for me.

     Of course, that all changed Christmas morning.  My second grandson, whose pictures also bored the "Supper Club",  told me, after the big surprise, "Gramma, we've known this for a REALLY LONG time!"  It was nearly more than his ten years of learning how to keep a secret could stand.

     It has been nearly two weeks since Runtly came in to our lives.  In that short amount of time I have spent more money on this dog than I have on my self in the last three years.  He already knows that if I carry a sack into the house, there is something in it for him.  He knows that the furnace register in the office is the warmest place in the house and gathers all his toys, blanket and extra bed into a pile in front of it when its time to take a break.  He knows that when the tone of my voice changes something is not quite right and can look very guilty. I know this is not a true admission of guilt, Runtly has no guilt.   He knows that Tigger the cat is loads of fun, but when Tigger has had enough, he bites.  Tigger always has had enough long before Runtly has.

     Jack Russell Terriers are a special breed of dog.  Not that other breeds aren't special, but most breeds do not go from zero to 60 mph in less than three seconds or bounce off the walls like a steel ball in a pinball machine.  They are very intelligent but can fall into attention deficit mode when focused on a new moving object, whether that be a bug on the floor or their own shadow.  They also have a mind of their own and I have already witnessed the look that says, "Your lips may be moving, but I'm not listening."

     The book, Jack Russell Terriers for Dummies, seriously, there really is a book with that title, by Deborah Britt-Hay says that it can take up to 8 months to house/potty train this breed.  Not because they are stupid, but because it can take that long for them to decide if they want to follow your plan...........sigh.  I will admit, I've gotten more exercise in the last 13 days than I have in quite awhile.

     In the meantime, Runtly seems to be falling into a daily routine of learning what works and what doesn't........or maybe I am.

     

The Newest Member

     There seems to be some kind of phenomenon taking place on the planet.  The four legged creatures of Earth are getting along. Not only with each other, but with species outside of their specific realm.

     Tapping the keyboard to Youtube.com and putting 'different animals getting along' in the search bar, will bring up a plethora of videos providing proof that something odd is going on.  

     There are videos of birds and cats playing, lions and dogs in a unique friendship, a deer and the family dog romping in the backyard.  The list goes on and on.  

     Maybe this has always happened.  Maybe, since we live in an age where everything can be videoed and recorded for the annals of history, this homogenization of different animals just seems new to us.  But I'm not so sure.

     I feel like there is some kind of cosmic shift going on because recently this very phenomenon has taken place under my own roof.
Not only with different species of four legged animals, but even involving the male counterpart of the two humans who live here.

     This household has a new member.....a dog.  This isn't just any dog, this is Runtly, a 10 week old Jack Russel Terrier.  He came by his name honestly as he was the runt of the litter, but he is the only one who does not know he is small.  At just a little over three pounds, he is a bundle of perpetual gnawing, chewing, peeing, pooping, bouncing energy.  

     Tigger, the young cat, makes about four of Runtly.  That fact did not deter this tiny K-9 from trying to play.  After all, the cat moved all by itself, much more fun than the stuffingless fox with the squeaker in its tail.  It only took a couple of days before the two finally made contact with each other.  Now, they are inseparable.
I must admit though, the old cat took one look at the dog, turned to me with a look that said, "You've GOT to be kidding me." and waltzed off to the garage in disgust.

     Runtly is supposed to be my dog, but here is where it starts to get weird.  This little bundle of joy has stolen the heart of my husband.  The man who does not particularly like animals of any kind.  Runtly greets him in the morning like a long lost friend.  If there is time before leaving for work, Runtly gets a little lap time. The other morning, this man, who does not particularly like animals of any kind, seriously,  was even laughing out loud at the shenanigans this little pup can pull.  I had to glance out the window, to see if the sky was falling.

     Perhaps the animal kingdom is trying to show us that it is possible to get along with each other, even though we may be different in looks or beliefs.  But, then again, it's really hard not to love this face.