I could hear her talking. My friend, one floor down and one apartment to the left. Her voice was soft and comforting. I knew what she was doing and who she was talking to.
I leaned over the railing, watched her and said, "Raisin Bran?"
She jumped, then giggled and said, "Don't you tell my husband! He only got one bowl out of the whole box!"
My friend, the Goose Whisperer, was feeding the geese. Raisin Bran was all she had, at the time, but I've seen her toss a bowl full of cooked rice over the railing.......and an entire loaf of bread that had just been purchased the day before.
She loves to feed the geese and talks to them while she tosses whatever is the morsel of the day over the railing. She has several of them named and when I watch them interact with her, I think they know what she is saying. They walk under her balcony every day, at the same time of day and look for her. It is funny to see them turn their heads to the side so they can look up to see if it's raining cereal.
Then, there are the Bread People. No one seems to know exactly where the Bread People come from, or what they do for a living. They arrive every morning, in their vehicle, jump out, open the trunk and the back doors and arm themselves with loaves of bread. We ponder as to how they come up with so much bread because the back seat of the car is almost level to the windows with it. Perhaps they work at a bakery. Perhaps they have the inside track on day old bread that the stores have to get rid of. Perhaps, they won the lottery and can afford to buy all the bread they want. Regardless the reason, they feed the geese about four loaves a day and these are just the geese at Big Pond. They make several stops each day for different flocks of the Canadian honker.
One day, the Bread People showed up a bit earlier than usual and the pair of geese that stay at Big Pond were in the playground area. Mr. Bread Person, arms loaded with bread, called to the pair, just like one would call a dog, and the geese waddled as fast as they could, wings spread, necks out stretched, honking all the way, in his direction.
It can be argued that refined white or wheat bread is not healthy for the geese. But, the Bread People have been doing this a long time and the geese do not seem any worse for wear.
Yes, I too have fallen victim to being a child of the geese. I save the bread heels and even though I realize I could be flogged by a thousand feathers, there is something magical about one of these wild fowl gingerly plucking a small piece of bread from my fingers.
I read an article about people who feed geese. It said one should be honored to be accepted as a fellow goose. I will honor that.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Raindrops & Goslings
Having not been in this new place long enough to understand the weather patterns, we have come to the conclusion that this must be the rainy season. We marvel at the accuracy of the local meteorologist when it comes to the forecast of rain. If they say it will rain at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, it will. It may only be a sprinkle, or a drop or two, but it still qualifies as rain.
It rains a lot in the evening or during the night. When checking on the weather in the mornings, if it gives a 50% chance for rain, most likely it happened before we ever got out of bed.
I believe there is a grand design and plan at work on this planet and the rainy season here serves more purpose than just replenishing the water supply. Not only is it the rainy season, but it is the season of the goose.
The locals have said that many of these Canadian Geese stay year round. I thought there were a lot of them when I first landed in this place, but since the season of the hatchling has arrived, their numbers have increased seven fold. There are geese everywhere.
Not being extremely gooseified, I just assumed that the new ones all hatched at the same time, given a day or two. That is not the case. There are herds (yes, I know it should be flocks, but when all they can do is waddle, they look like herds) of baby goslings ranging in ages from three to four weeks old, to just a few days. The fuzzy looking little ones are a dirty yellow color and cute. The ones that are older by a couple of weeks begin to take on the appearance of a velociraptor and the area around the pond looks like a scene out of Jurassic Park.
Adult geese are very protective of their new fledglings and do not take kindly to another pair of geese, family in tow, getting to close to their brood. The only exception to this is the goose that has lost its mate. One pair has let this one enter into their fold and between the three of them, they have a grand total of 17 goslings.
I'm not kidding when I say there are geese everywhere. They. Are. Everywhere......and not just in this complex. We have not gone anywhere in the city that we have not seen a flock of geese either in the middle of a parking lot, or sitting on a small patch of grass between the shopping centers.
With a lot of geese, there is a lot of goose poo. It. Is. Everywhere. The roads are covered with it and so are the sidewalks. This calls for careful navigation, especially when taking the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, Runtly, out for a walk. Runtly loves goose poo. He can eat it, or roll in it, doesn't matter to him, as long as he can get close to it.
So, after a night of heavy rainfall, it was a delight to take the Runt out this morning. As we walked up the quiet, empty street, there was not one pile of poo to be found. Runtly was disappointed, but it was nice to be able to walk him without having to keep a constant eye on him while he searched for his next dip and dive.
But, the day is early, the sun is shining, the geese are honking and the gosling herd is on the move. Runtly's disappointment won't last too long......so, let it rain.
Friday, June 3, 2016
If You Ever Get The Chance
It was going to be a quick trip, but one that had to be made. There were graduates, young and younger, who we needed to see, in person, walk down to the podium to receive their diplomas.
The route back home was one I was looking forward to because it was different from the one I took when I came to this new place. We set out on our journey in the wee hours of the morning. Neither of us enjoy driving in the dark, but the timing could not have been any more perfect. As the sun began to rise, we were climbing the first foothill into the mountains of West Virginia.
What an awesome sight to behold! The view was nothing short of magnificent. One could see for miles across a valley dotted with the lights of small mountain towns. The sun was just beginning to crest on the far side of the valley and its morning rays painted the sky in hues of yellow and orange.
As we made the ascent further into the Appalachian Mountains, we knew the old saying, 'what goes up, must come down', would come into play.....and so it did. My husband was behind the wheel and mastered the descents, winding road and hairpin curves. I took in all the breath takings views and marveled as to how in the world anyone ever crossed these before there was a highway that cut a swath in what surely can be called God's country. We went through two tunnels and to see the mountain peaks above them was a reminder of what feats man can accomplish if he sets his mind to something.
To drive across a portion of this great country is the very best way to see how quickly the landscape can change. Before we knew it, the mountains had turned back into foothills and the foothills gave way to the flat rolling plains of the Midwest.
Our trip back was actually three fold. We had graduations ceremonies to attend, a grandson that would be returning with us for a visit and two vehicles to bring back on the return trip. The combined ages of the two vehicles adds up to 76 years old. Most people, in their right mind, would not attempt a thousand mile journey in such old automobiles, but my husband assured me, and reassured me, they would make the trip just fine.
He drove his chariot with the grandson in tow and I drove the little black truck with the ever so entertaining Jack Russel Terrier, Runtly, as my co-pilot. The return trip would take two days because I wanted our grandson to have the experience of the mountains in the light of day. The little black truck began to periodically backfire about 30 miles into the first leg of the trip, but otherwise, ran smoothly. As I drove across the prairie, popping like a firecracker, I prayed that the guardian angels assigned to me, would keep the truck running.
As we headed into the mountains on the second day, I discovered that it was much easier to take in the beauty of this place whilst being a passenger. There isn't much time for viewing the sights when you have the death grip on the steering wheel and navigating traffic filled with folks headed home from a long holiday weekend. I kept my eyes glued to the road and hoped no one thought I was firing a gun at them as I snap, crackled and popped through the high hills and low hollows.
Just as we reached the foothills that looked out over the above mentioned valley, the little black truck decided it had had enough. At nearly 80 mph, it quit. It did not cough, sputter or anything of that matter.....it just quit.
The sides of the road, where one can pull over and off the main lane of traffic, are not near as wide in the mountains as they are in the flat lands. The only saving grace to getting completely out of the lane was the fact that there was an exit ramp coming up. It gave way to a bit more room, but stepping out of the truck meant placing my feet in the driving lane.
So, there we sat, traffic whizzing by at break neck speeds and not a clue as to what to do next. I hoped that this mountain experience did not scar my grandson for life, but he seemed to be fine......but of course, the vehicle he was in was still running.
A few minutes went by and then a white truck with flashing lights pulled up behind us. He worked this section of highway just for the purpose of helping people in need. He was indeed an angel.
The little black truck had to be towed to a neighboring town and the auto parts store just happened to be open on Memorial Day. It seemed the whatchamacallit in the thingamajig had gone bad. My husband was able to get the part, fix the problem and within two hours we were back on the road, little black truck running like a charm.
If you ever get the chance to drive through the state of West Virginia and the Appalachian Mountains, take it. You will not be disappointed . Just make sure, before you leave, to check the whatchamacallit.
The route back home was one I was looking forward to because it was different from the one I took when I came to this new place. We set out on our journey in the wee hours of the morning. Neither of us enjoy driving in the dark, but the timing could not have been any more perfect. As the sun began to rise, we were climbing the first foothill into the mountains of West Virginia.
What an awesome sight to behold! The view was nothing short of magnificent. One could see for miles across a valley dotted with the lights of small mountain towns. The sun was just beginning to crest on the far side of the valley and its morning rays painted the sky in hues of yellow and orange.
As we made the ascent further into the Appalachian Mountains, we knew the old saying, 'what goes up, must come down', would come into play.....and so it did. My husband was behind the wheel and mastered the descents, winding road and hairpin curves. I took in all the breath takings views and marveled as to how in the world anyone ever crossed these before there was a highway that cut a swath in what surely can be called God's country. We went through two tunnels and to see the mountain peaks above them was a reminder of what feats man can accomplish if he sets his mind to something.
To drive across a portion of this great country is the very best way to see how quickly the landscape can change. Before we knew it, the mountains had turned back into foothills and the foothills gave way to the flat rolling plains of the Midwest.
Our trip back was actually three fold. We had graduations ceremonies to attend, a grandson that would be returning with us for a visit and two vehicles to bring back on the return trip. The combined ages of the two vehicles adds up to 76 years old. Most people, in their right mind, would not attempt a thousand mile journey in such old automobiles, but my husband assured me, and reassured me, they would make the trip just fine.
He drove his chariot with the grandson in tow and I drove the little black truck with the ever so entertaining Jack Russel Terrier, Runtly, as my co-pilot. The return trip would take two days because I wanted our grandson to have the experience of the mountains in the light of day. The little black truck began to periodically backfire about 30 miles into the first leg of the trip, but otherwise, ran smoothly. As I drove across the prairie, popping like a firecracker, I prayed that the guardian angels assigned to me, would keep the truck running.
As we headed into the mountains on the second day, I discovered that it was much easier to take in the beauty of this place whilst being a passenger. There isn't much time for viewing the sights when you have the death grip on the steering wheel and navigating traffic filled with folks headed home from a long holiday weekend. I kept my eyes glued to the road and hoped no one thought I was firing a gun at them as I snap, crackled and popped through the high hills and low hollows.
Just as we reached the foothills that looked out over the above mentioned valley, the little black truck decided it had had enough. At nearly 80 mph, it quit. It did not cough, sputter or anything of that matter.....it just quit.
The sides of the road, where one can pull over and off the main lane of traffic, are not near as wide in the mountains as they are in the flat lands. The only saving grace to getting completely out of the lane was the fact that there was an exit ramp coming up. It gave way to a bit more room, but stepping out of the truck meant placing my feet in the driving lane.
So, there we sat, traffic whizzing by at break neck speeds and not a clue as to what to do next. I hoped that this mountain experience did not scar my grandson for life, but he seemed to be fine......but of course, the vehicle he was in was still running.
A few minutes went by and then a white truck with flashing lights pulled up behind us. He worked this section of highway just for the purpose of helping people in need. He was indeed an angel.
The little black truck had to be towed to a neighboring town and the auto parts store just happened to be open on Memorial Day. It seemed the whatchamacallit in the thingamajig had gone bad. My husband was able to get the part, fix the problem and within two hours we were back on the road, little black truck running like a charm.
If you ever get the chance to drive through the state of West Virginia and the Appalachian Mountains, take it. You will not be disappointed . Just make sure, before you leave, to check the whatchamacallit.
Monday, May 23, 2016
What's Up With This?
The story went something like this.....There was a man in upper management of a very large company. He had posted a job opening and this position would pay somewhere between $90,000 to over $100,000.....that's a lot of coconuts. The man was at one of the stores, where the interview was to take place, and a large shipment had come in. It just so happened that four workers had called in sick so this man did what leaders do, he jumped right in and helped unload the shipment along with helping to stock the store shelves.
While he was working, he wandered up to one of the check out lanes and the customer in line just happened to be the person he was to interview for the above mentioned position. He knew who she was, she did not know him. While he was there, this young lady turned and looked at him and made a remark about his shoes. She obviously thought they were goofy looking and began to make more rude comments.
The person working the register knew who this man was and she made an attempt to get the young lady to shut up, but it didn't work. The young lady continued on, thinking she was quite funny, when finally the woman at the register called the man by name. Needless to say, she didn't get the position. I'm not sure, but she probably did not even get the interview.
I have no idea if this was a true story, but it holds a valuable lesson. I wondered how often this was common place. It was not long after I had read that story, a young man that I know, also in an upper management position, claimed he had set up an entire day for job applicant interviews........and most of them showed up late for their interview. Seriously? That seems to me to be an immediate three strikes, you're out and oh, thanks for wasting my time.
As I was standing in line at the bank the other day, I heard a woman ask how long it took to get an interview. The bank president just happened to be out in the lobby and inquired as to what the woman wanted. It was simple, she wanted to know how long it took to get an interview...........to a position she had not even applied for yet.....she wanted to know if it was worth her time to even fill out the application. It never occurred to her that, #1, would her qualifications even land her an interview and #2, the first impression she just made with the bank president may not have been in her favor.
I watched as the bank president, an impeccably professional woman who treats her customers and her staff with the utmost respect, explained the process to this lady. She even walked out the door with her and continued their conversation outside.
It seems that common sense has left the building with Elvis and I'm not sure it is coming back. It has been replaced by the entitlement attitude, the 'something for nothing' way of thinking.
We are told to be ourselves and that is good counsel. If you are not a nice or kind person at heart and think that is your right to be that way, then do not whine if you don't get the job. But, it might be a good idea to at least fill out the application first.
While he was working, he wandered up to one of the check out lanes and the customer in line just happened to be the person he was to interview for the above mentioned position. He knew who she was, she did not know him. While he was there, this young lady turned and looked at him and made a remark about his shoes. She obviously thought they were goofy looking and began to make more rude comments.
The person working the register knew who this man was and she made an attempt to get the young lady to shut up, but it didn't work. The young lady continued on, thinking she was quite funny, when finally the woman at the register called the man by name. Needless to say, she didn't get the position. I'm not sure, but she probably did not even get the interview.
I have no idea if this was a true story, but it holds a valuable lesson. I wondered how often this was common place. It was not long after I had read that story, a young man that I know, also in an upper management position, claimed he had set up an entire day for job applicant interviews........and most of them showed up late for their interview. Seriously? That seems to me to be an immediate three strikes, you're out and oh, thanks for wasting my time.
As I was standing in line at the bank the other day, I heard a woman ask how long it took to get an interview. The bank president just happened to be out in the lobby and inquired as to what the woman wanted. It was simple, she wanted to know how long it took to get an interview...........to a position she had not even applied for yet.....she wanted to know if it was worth her time to even fill out the application. It never occurred to her that, #1, would her qualifications even land her an interview and #2, the first impression she just made with the bank president may not have been in her favor.
I watched as the bank president, an impeccably professional woman who treats her customers and her staff with the utmost respect, explained the process to this lady. She even walked out the door with her and continued their conversation outside.
It seems that common sense has left the building with Elvis and I'm not sure it is coming back. It has been replaced by the entitlement attitude, the 'something for nothing' way of thinking.
We are told to be ourselves and that is good counsel. If you are not a nice or kind person at heart and think that is your right to be that way, then do not whine if you don't get the job. But, it might be a good idea to at least fill out the application first.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
A Great Start
The other day, I wrote about Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, and his new found joy of experiencing carpeted floors. Having carpet is something new for us too, it has been many years since we have had carpet under our feet.
One thing about carpet is the traction it provides. Sometimes, this is not always a good thing. For instance, I had on my best, and only, pair of flip flops one day when Runtly brought a toy over and dropped it at my feet. This is a signal to either pick it up, or kick it. I chose the latter and as my foot came forward, the flip flop caught the carpet long before it got close to the toy and ripped the toe hold right out of my shoe. Having not had these flip flops for very long, I found the super glue and went to work putting the shoe back together. Luckily, this worked like a charm.
This morning I was standing in the closet trying to decide what to wear. I was giving some serious thought to donning a pair of shorts since the forecast was calling for mid 80's. Then I thought if I was going to wear shorts, I was going to have to do something else first.......shave my legs.......you ladies out there know exactly what I'm talking about. Well, I guess I did not actually have to do this, but that would have been kind of gross. While I'm having these wardrobe malfunctioning thoughts, I realized Runtly was in the closet too.
Runtly is banned from the bathroom, my work area and the closet. The reason for this is because if he can ever gain access to above mentioned rooms, he steals things and whatever it is he steals ends up in an unrecognizable shredded mess.
Every dog owner on the planet can attest to this next statement. If there is a pile of dirty clothes on the floor and in that pile is one dirty sock and one dirty pair of underwear, as far as the dog is concerned, the underwear always takes precedence. Oh yes, there is nothing more harrowing than sitting in your living room chatting with friends and looking up to see the dog enter with yesterday's gunders hanging out of its mouth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Runtly slither out the closet door. I leaned out and sure enough, my husbands' whitey tighties were headed down the hallway. I gave chase and the game was on. Runtly would circumnavigate the couch, above mentioned article of clothing flying like a flag, and then rip and snort back down the hallway. Runtly thinks this is great fun. I was in hot pursuit and when he landed in the middle of our bed, on the fifth lap, I was sure I could grab him before he made his next move. He lunged and so did I. The unfortunate thing was, my flip flop did not follow suit.
No, it stayed glued to the carpet and as the white furry bullet shot out the bedroom door, I uttered "Oh #@%$!" because I knew I was going down.
As I laid on the floor, half in and half out of the bedroom, assessing any possible damage I may had just caused myself, I looked down the hallway. Here came Runtly, ears down, looking sad, gunders still in his mouth. He got just close enough to my hand to release his prize and proceeded to find a safe place.
When I finally got up, I knew one thing for sure. The rug burn on my knee took care of the idea about wearing shorts.
One thing about carpet is the traction it provides. Sometimes, this is not always a good thing. For instance, I had on my best, and only, pair of flip flops one day when Runtly brought a toy over and dropped it at my feet. This is a signal to either pick it up, or kick it. I chose the latter and as my foot came forward, the flip flop caught the carpet long before it got close to the toy and ripped the toe hold right out of my shoe. Having not had these flip flops for very long, I found the super glue and went to work putting the shoe back together. Luckily, this worked like a charm.
This morning I was standing in the closet trying to decide what to wear. I was giving some serious thought to donning a pair of shorts since the forecast was calling for mid 80's. Then I thought if I was going to wear shorts, I was going to have to do something else first.......shave my legs.......you ladies out there know exactly what I'm talking about. Well, I guess I did not actually have to do this, but that would have been kind of gross. While I'm having these wardrobe malfunctioning thoughts, I realized Runtly was in the closet too.
Runtly is banned from the bathroom, my work area and the closet. The reason for this is because if he can ever gain access to above mentioned rooms, he steals things and whatever it is he steals ends up in an unrecognizable shredded mess.
Every dog owner on the planet can attest to this next statement. If there is a pile of dirty clothes on the floor and in that pile is one dirty sock and one dirty pair of underwear, as far as the dog is concerned, the underwear always takes precedence. Oh yes, there is nothing more harrowing than sitting in your living room chatting with friends and looking up to see the dog enter with yesterday's gunders hanging out of its mouth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Runtly slither out the closet door. I leaned out and sure enough, my husbands' whitey tighties were headed down the hallway. I gave chase and the game was on. Runtly would circumnavigate the couch, above mentioned article of clothing flying like a flag, and then rip and snort back down the hallway. Runtly thinks this is great fun. I was in hot pursuit and when he landed in the middle of our bed, on the fifth lap, I was sure I could grab him before he made his next move. He lunged and so did I. The unfortunate thing was, my flip flop did not follow suit.
No, it stayed glued to the carpet and as the white furry bullet shot out the bedroom door, I uttered "Oh #@%$!" because I knew I was going down.
As I laid on the floor, half in and half out of the bedroom, assessing any possible damage I may had just caused myself, I looked down the hallway. Here came Runtly, ears down, looking sad, gunders still in his mouth. He got just close enough to my hand to release his prize and proceeded to find a safe place.
When I finally got up, I knew one thing for sure. The rug burn on my knee took care of the idea about wearing shorts.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
The Ever So Entertaining....
Runtly. The ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier has acclimated quite nicely to his new surroundings. He no longer fears the honking geese or cawing crows and if he gets the chance, he gives new meaning to the phrase, "wild goose chase".
Since the area, he now knows as home, is close to one of the university hospitals, there are ambulance sirens on a daily basis. Since we succeeded in traumatizing him, shortly after his arrival into our lives, by taking him outside to watch the winning basketball team (in a honking bus), their parents, (in honking cars) and the fire engine with sirens full blast, go past our house, sirens will always remain on the top of his 'do not like' list.
Riding in a car is second on his list of 'do not likes', unless it is just a short ride around the apartment complex. Once the vehicle turns onto the main road, he becomes a panting, shivering mess. A recent jaunt to the vet clinic for his annual shot proved we would still have to sedate him for a long journey. By the time we got home, he was laying on the floorboard in a fetal position, panting like he had just run the Kentucky Derby. I think I may have even heard him repeating a mantra of "find a happy place, find a happy place".
Runtly is a great conversation starter and thus we have made many new acquaintances by way of the dog. Everyone loves the Runt and one of the leasing agents refers to him as the site's official mascot. Since just about every other tenant also has a dog, Runtly has made many new canine friends himself. Jack Russell Terriers are fast, fast like lightning, and the dog park has given him the opportunity to show them all just how fast he can be. So far there is only one other dog who can meet his speed. Her name is Lola, a beautiful mix of what looks to be pit bull and grey hound. She is twice as tall as Runtly, but she can turn on a dime and gives him a run for his money every time they meet at the park. She is by far his favorite......Runtly loves Lola.
It will never cease to amaze me how he seems to know what time of the day it is. When it gets close to quitting time for my husband, Runtly finds his red collar ball and patiently waits. That time of the day is fetch time and no one plays it better than "Dad".
Having been raised on hardwood and tile floors, Runtly has discovered the advantages of carpet. Carpet allows for lots of traction and hairpin turns can be made leaning so far sideways his side nearly touches the floor. Runtly has also discovered he can belly crawl the entire length of the apartment. My husband says there is a reason for that.......but I shan't speak of such things.
Runtly loves to help with things around the house. If the vacuum comes out of the closet, he is sure to follow every swipe and drop numerous toys in front of it. When the clothes dryer door is opened, he immediately finds the dryer sheet and proceeds to see how many pieces it can be shredded in to. If someone sneezes, he jumps in their lap and tries to lick their face..... we figure it is his way of saying "bless you".
If something needs worked on, Runtly wants to work on it too. This was most evident the other day when I realized the clothes dryer vent tube had come off the vent. Apartment living also means compartment living and there is no room to spare in the laundry closet. I could not get behind the dryer and my arms were not long enough to reach the tube. I rummaged around and found a pair of long tongs in a kitchen drawer. Why I brought these with me is still a mystery because I rarely used them at 'home'. I pulled a chair next to the washer and dryer, wallowed myself on top and across both appliances and proceeded to gingerly grasp the the tension ring that holds the tube on the vent. It worked! As I began to make a maneuver with the skill of a heart surgeon, Runtly landed right in the middle of my back. When I turned my head to yell at him, he licked my ear and face. Since he wasn't moving, I continued on with my task. The next time I glanced back at him, he had discovered, from his vantage point, that he was face to face with a stack of folded clean towels and was plucking them off the shelf one at a time.
Yes, Runtly is 14 pounds of fun and love. I've watched him change the heart of a man, who thought he did not like animals, into someone who is crazy about this small bundle of mischief and even referred to him as a 'blessing'. I can't argue with that, to watch them play together is ever so entertaining.
Since the area, he now knows as home, is close to one of the university hospitals, there are ambulance sirens on a daily basis. Since we succeeded in traumatizing him, shortly after his arrival into our lives, by taking him outside to watch the winning basketball team (in a honking bus), their parents, (in honking cars) and the fire engine with sirens full blast, go past our house, sirens will always remain on the top of his 'do not like' list.
Riding in a car is second on his list of 'do not likes', unless it is just a short ride around the apartment complex. Once the vehicle turns onto the main road, he becomes a panting, shivering mess. A recent jaunt to the vet clinic for his annual shot proved we would still have to sedate him for a long journey. By the time we got home, he was laying on the floorboard in a fetal position, panting like he had just run the Kentucky Derby. I think I may have even heard him repeating a mantra of "find a happy place, find a happy place".
Runtly is a great conversation starter and thus we have made many new acquaintances by way of the dog. Everyone loves the Runt and one of the leasing agents refers to him as the site's official mascot. Since just about every other tenant also has a dog, Runtly has made many new canine friends himself. Jack Russell Terriers are fast, fast like lightning, and the dog park has given him the opportunity to show them all just how fast he can be. So far there is only one other dog who can meet his speed. Her name is Lola, a beautiful mix of what looks to be pit bull and grey hound. She is twice as tall as Runtly, but she can turn on a dime and gives him a run for his money every time they meet at the park. She is by far his favorite......Runtly loves Lola.
It will never cease to amaze me how he seems to know what time of the day it is. When it gets close to quitting time for my husband, Runtly finds his red collar ball and patiently waits. That time of the day is fetch time and no one plays it better than "Dad".
Having been raised on hardwood and tile floors, Runtly has discovered the advantages of carpet. Carpet allows for lots of traction and hairpin turns can be made leaning so far sideways his side nearly touches the floor. Runtly has also discovered he can belly crawl the entire length of the apartment. My husband says there is a reason for that.......but I shan't speak of such things.
Runtly loves to help with things around the house. If the vacuum comes out of the closet, he is sure to follow every swipe and drop numerous toys in front of it. When the clothes dryer door is opened, he immediately finds the dryer sheet and proceeds to see how many pieces it can be shredded in to. If someone sneezes, he jumps in their lap and tries to lick their face..... we figure it is his way of saying "bless you".
If something needs worked on, Runtly wants to work on it too. This was most evident the other day when I realized the clothes dryer vent tube had come off the vent. Apartment living also means compartment living and there is no room to spare in the laundry closet. I could not get behind the dryer and my arms were not long enough to reach the tube. I rummaged around and found a pair of long tongs in a kitchen drawer. Why I brought these with me is still a mystery because I rarely used them at 'home'. I pulled a chair next to the washer and dryer, wallowed myself on top and across both appliances and proceeded to gingerly grasp the the tension ring that holds the tube on the vent. It worked! As I began to make a maneuver with the skill of a heart surgeon, Runtly landed right in the middle of my back. When I turned my head to yell at him, he licked my ear and face. Since he wasn't moving, I continued on with my task. The next time I glanced back at him, he had discovered, from his vantage point, that he was face to face with a stack of folded clean towels and was plucking them off the shelf one at a time.
Yes, Runtly is 14 pounds of fun and love. I've watched him change the heart of a man, who thought he did not like animals, into someone who is crazy about this small bundle of mischief and even referred to him as a 'blessing'. I can't argue with that, to watch them play together is ever so entertaining.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Stay Out Of It
Last year, one of my new year's resolutions was to leave my opinion about current affairs out of my blog. One of my reasons for this decision was to remain positive. If I can make someone smile, laugh out loud, or just give some serious pondering to certain subject matters, that is my goal.
Since that was last year and I do not believe I made any resolutions for this year, I'm going to step out of my comfort zone.
Watching TV is something just about everybody in the country does. There are an infinite number of shows that can be informative and entertaining. Entertainment probably makes up 99.9% of the reason why people can sit for hours in front of the screen. We do love to be entertained.
Last night we watched one of our favorite shows. When it was over, they aired a snippet of what would be on the next episode. I was so disappointed when I saw who was going to be on the next show........the First Lady of the U.S.A.
I don't care what political party you belong to, or if you just like to party, it makes no difference to me. I won't call anyone an idiot for voting for someone I would not vote for and I expect the same respect. I do not like politics because politics seems to be its own form of government. I sat on my city council for four years, which I guess qualified me to run for governor. I did not really understand all the workings of our government, but one thing I'm pretty sure of is, Hollywood is not a branch of the government. I don't know how anyone else feels about this, but I'm getting really tired of them thinking they are.
Being actively involved in one's government is not something to be taken lightly. I do not take kindly to seeing POTUS or Mrs. POTUS on my favorite show, or any show deemed entertaining. They are not celebrities. Period.
They are leaders. Leaders of the freaking United States of America in the highest position of government this country has to offer. So, please, stay out of my favorite show or sitcom and hold yourself responsible to the office you were elected to. We the people need to know you are on top of important issues and not standing "stage left" rehearsing your lines.
Since that was last year and I do not believe I made any resolutions for this year, I'm going to step out of my comfort zone.
Watching TV is something just about everybody in the country does. There are an infinite number of shows that can be informative and entertaining. Entertainment probably makes up 99.9% of the reason why people can sit for hours in front of the screen. We do love to be entertained.
Last night we watched one of our favorite shows. When it was over, they aired a snippet of what would be on the next episode. I was so disappointed when I saw who was going to be on the next show........the First Lady of the U.S.A.
I don't care what political party you belong to, or if you just like to party, it makes no difference to me. I won't call anyone an idiot for voting for someone I would not vote for and I expect the same respect. I do not like politics because politics seems to be its own form of government. I sat on my city council for four years, which I guess qualified me to run for governor. I did not really understand all the workings of our government, but one thing I'm pretty sure of is, Hollywood is not a branch of the government. I don't know how anyone else feels about this, but I'm getting really tired of them thinking they are.
Being actively involved in one's government is not something to be taken lightly. I do not take kindly to seeing POTUS or Mrs. POTUS on my favorite show, or any show deemed entertaining. They are not celebrities. Period.
They are leaders. Leaders of the freaking United States of America in the highest position of government this country has to offer. So, please, stay out of my favorite show or sitcom and hold yourself responsible to the office you were elected to. We the people need to know you are on top of important issues and not standing "stage left" rehearsing your lines.
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