I am called a dog because I fawn on those who give me anything, I yelp at those who refuse, and I set my teeth in rascals. —Diogenes
Not everything in our world revolves around fashion. I still have to walk the dog.
I’m taking everything that happens this morning as a sign from the universe, and it’s not looking good at this point.
We have a cat tree in our living room positioned right by the entrance to the hallway leading to/from the bedrooms. When I woke up this morning, all three of the adult cats were sleeping on the tree. As I pass, the eldest cat, and only male of the bunch, reaches out and baps me upside the head. Normally, he’s rather gentle but not this morning. There was some claw in that bap. I consider that a wake-up message. I need to pay attention—and give the big guy some love.
Taking the dog out, I was enjoying the cool 57° as we traversed our route around the neighborhood. Being away from the computer screen at the start of the day helps me clear my mind, sort my thoughts, and avoid stepping in someone else’s dog’s poop. I needed that time away this morning. I was pissed that after spending so very much time creating yesterday’s picture of the day only seven people actually saw it. Seven. Everyone’s off looking at the fashion reviews, which is flattering in a way. But there’s more to life.
Like popsicle sticks, apparently. We returned from our walk and I filled the dog’s bowl. Most days he nibbles a bit then lays back down and naps. The cats happen to like this particular brand of dog food, though, and steal it from his bowl.
Subheadings Make Copy More Readable
They also interrupt the story at awkward moments. As I was saying, the cats keep stealing the dog’s food.
So, this morning, the dog decides he’s had enough of the culinary theft and devours his morning ration the instant it hits the bowl. Then, apparently still not satisfied, he goes sniffing around the couch to see what else he can find. What he found was a popsicle stick that Kat had left out on the couch. Of course, dogs don’t need popsicle sticks, what with splinters and all. I took the stick away and put it in the trash.
Five minutes later I hear a crunching sound behind me. Sure enough, the dog had retrieved the popsicle stick from the garbage and was continuing his treat. I took the stick away again and gave him a stern warning to stay out of the trash.
Dogs understand human logic; I’m sure of it. Don’t laugh at me.
I sit back down to look at the morning’s news, something about the Democratic candidate passing out from boredom or some other nonsense, when I heard sounds coming from the vicinity of the cats’ litter box. That wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that all three cats were back in their tree. I check and sure enough the dog was back there eating the cat poop.
Good thing we use an all-natural cat litter.
Other Things Happened This Weekend
Football. You know, those guys who get paid millions of dollars to give each other concussions. I like football at the college level, but the so-called pros bore me. Besides, there were fashion shows to watch. Lots and lots of fashion shows.
There were also neighbors that needed some attention.
We’ve known for a while that our friend across the street was struggling. Some of the bitchier old ladies in the neighborhood have made it impossible for him to do the minor mechanic work he was performing in his driveway. Not that he was doing anyone any harm, mind you, just changing oil (with appropriate disposal), adjusting and replacing belts, swapping out the occasional fuel pump. Quick, easy things he could do without needing a rack or a lot of other heavy and expensive equipment. The old biddies in the neighborhood would call code enforcement every time they saw a car in his driveway. It didn’t matter whether any codes, it was the constant harassment that mattered. As a result, they’ve eliminated his sole source of income.
The poor guy was sitting over there quite literally starving to death. When Kat found out he had nothing in his refrigerator, we had no choice but to act. Kat’s good about that. While I was watching people parading around in costumes that retail for more than most people make in a month, she ran to the store and made sure our neighbor had enough food to get him through the next few weeks. We have to watch out for each other like that.
Turn The Lights Out When You Leave
There was a full-size tractor-trailer going out of the neighborhood this morning. Talk about zoning violations. It wasn’t a moving truck, either, which would be the one logical explanation. The dog and I heard a lot of banging and clanging while we were on our walk this morning. I’m assuming it was whoever was loading that truck. Perhaps they were disassembling their meth lab and moving it. If so, good riddance.
There’s also a school bus that goes through picking up kids at 6:00 AM. I don’t get it. That’s too damn early for children to be up.
I just started the third pot of coffee brewing. It really shouldn’t take me so long to write these articles, but it does. Between the dog snatching popsicle sticks, cats leaping around the room, and trying to get the kids to school completely dressed, I don’t get to write too many words at once. I’m fortunate if I make it through a sentence without being interrupted.
I’m still pissed at how few people read yesterday’s article. I worked really hard on that, dammit.
Sigh. There are more fashion shows to cover this morning. If I get a break from that, there are pictures to edit. There is no such thing as down time around here. In fact, we’ve been keeping track and there’s typically only about an hour a day, between 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning, when no one is up and busy. One hour.
No wonder we burn through so many lightbulbs.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for sharing. Oh, and did you know there are people who make eight figures off YouTube? Â None of them are over 50. Sigh.
