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Dogs on Thursday

Finally feeling rested after a whirlwind weekend. The laundry is done, dishes washed, clutter (sorta) cleared away and today Sabu went to the groomer for a bath, blow-out and pedicure –

12-11-14 SabuI swear, this dog draws a crowd wherever she goes! There was a line at the checkout and people started piling up behind us. Sabu went into full on Performance Mode and had the ladies eating out of her hand. None of them had treats, but this dog is an eternal optimist.

“What a beautiful dog!”

“She’s so white! You must spend a lot of time grooming her…”

“Look at those freckles! How adorable!”

“What a good dog!”

And on and on. Here’s the truth, folks –

  • Sabu is a Bad Dog. She does all sorts of Bad Dog Things every damned day. You got to see her at her best – desperate to get away from the sadistic ladies in the grooming room. She’ll do anything to get out of there and ten seconds after the doors shut behind us she’ll be up to her usual antics, probably pulling me off my feet.
  • She IS white. Today. Probably tomorrow, too, but not much longer if she rolls in something foul or otherwise messes herself up. She’s not a Girly Dog and prefers to be dirty. Lucky for me most of the hard dirt falls off with no further intervention and she doesn’t matt up if I hold her down and force a brush through her coat every now and again.
  • I do not spend much time grooming her because she is a Drama Queen and it would be quieter if I actually disemboweled her instead of just torturing her with a slicker brush. She won’t let anyone but the cat groom her tail and brushing her back legs is accompanied by growls and evasive maneuvers. I pay the ladies at the groomer to clean her up and they are worth every penny!
  • She will eat everything she finds that even remotely resembles anything edible. Half rotted, unidentifiable substance on the pavement? Yup. Poo of any kind except her own? You betcha. If whatever it is makes her vomit, she will happily scarf it down again if it’s still fresh. She likes to help out around the house by cleaning out the litterbox, too. Yup, she’s That Dog. Preventive measures have been employed at home but taking her to someone else’s house is always an adventure.
  • You cannot leave food unattended for even a second or it will disappear. You know how most people have a “5 second rule” for food that gets dropped on the floor? The 5 second rule does not apply if you have a 2 second dog! If you want to eat that food, better keep it on your plate and don’t turn your back on this dog. She doesn’t counter surf, but anything left lower than that height is fair game in Sabu’s book.
  • She has no sense of loyalty when out on a walk. If she gets away from me she will run off, chasing anything that moves and jumping on people. Oh, eventually she comes back, but never at my request.
  • Her car is her bat cave and she will defend it at all costs. It’s embarrassing. There she is, sitting in the back seat (the whole back seat, as is her right) looking out the window, posing so cute and someone sees her and approaches the car, talking all high-pitched and cutesy. Sabu waits until they’re within three feet and then goes all Cujo, clawing at the window, fangs out, snarling, barking and looking like a rabid maniac. Scares the shit out of people. So far, to my knowledge, she’s only made one person actually fall down, but still…

She came to me with issues and for the most part we’ve overcome them, but she is far from the Good Dog she plays in public.

Sigh. I still love her, though.

Freckles!

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12 Comments

Posted by on December 11, 2014 in Dogs

 

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Drama at the Dog Park!

Saturday afternoon Sabu and I went to the dog park on the way to the Studio, as we do four or five days a week. We’ve never had a problem – people are respectful and the dogs tend to work things out themselves while the people talk.

This particular park has separate areas for large dogs and small dogs. Sometimes people take puppies or very shy dogs into the small dog side so they can play without getting hurt. It sometimes gets very rough on the big dog side of the park, but we all understand that dogs like to play and wrestle and so far I haven’t seen anyone hurt.

Sabu, being Alpha, is often in the middle of a confrontation, breaking it up, maintaining order. Yeah, surprised the hell out of me the first time I saw it, but there ya go – she will have no fighting in her pack and has done some pretty strange things during our dog park adventures.

Sabu and I went through the first gate and into the little holding area. I took her leash off and opened the second gate as an older couple (and by older I just mean older than me – I have very little notion of age other than older than me, younger than me and “children” which has come to include anyone under 25, much to my dismay.) with a large Labrador-looking dog came in through the first gate.

Dog park etiquette dictates that you don’t bring your dog into the holding area or open the first gate until the dog before you has exited the second gate and it’s been closed, letting dog and human into the alley that leads to the park proper. Dogs can fight if they’re confined together before they get to know each other and most dogs are already over excited just being at the park – no need to add fuel to the fire, right?

They followed too closely and Sabu doubled back to see if they would be lax at the gate, letting her escape for a romp in the pond. I caught her and dragged her back.

“Is your dog nice?” the woman asked.

“Yes, she’s nice, but she’s a gate pusher. I’ll just hold her until you get in so she doesn’t knock you over.”

They came in, closed the gate and I let Sabu go, turning my back and calling for her to move out into the main part of the park.

The man was holding the leash and not taking it off the dog – a real no-no at the dog park as dogs on leashes can be very defensive towards dogs not on leashes. You’re supposed to take the leash off in the holding area so the dog enters the park with no leash, thereby minimizing confrontations – when Sabu doubled back again to have a sniff at the new dog. Because she’s Alpha, she bumped him on the shoulder to let him know what was what and he stumbled, causing the woman to start shrieking at me.

My back was partly turned, but as soon as I realized Sabu wasn’t at my side I whirled around and tried to grab her. She was dodging around, not at all sure what the yelling was about but not willing to move away from this new dog – he was now part of her pack and if the shrieking woman wouldn’t shut up, well, something was about to Get Done about the situation.*

I leaned down to get a grip on Sabu’s harness, noticing the woman’s feet and getting distracted. She was wearing flip flops and her feet were all twisted up. A bunch of things ran through my head and I finally settled upon “ballet dancer” as an explanation and tuned in to what she was saying. I mean, Sabu hadn’t done anything wrong and I was confused about what the woman was so upset about.

“We just spent $6000 on surgeries for this dog! We saved his life and now he could be hurt again! He’s only just been cleared to go out on a leash and now this! Get your dog under control!” and on and on in this vein at high volume.

I finally got a good grip on Sabu and looked the woman in the face.

“I’m sorry! You do realize this is an off-leash park?”

“Of course!” she snapped back at me. “It’s just that he hasn’t seen other dogs in so long we thought it would be good for him to come here but I can see that no one keeps their dogs under control and I spent all this money blah, blah, blah…”

That set me off. “You can’t expect to bring a dog to an off-leash dog park and not let it be a dog. All the other dogs here are off leash. All of the dogs are big dogs. If your dog is recovering from an injury you should not have brought it here.”

I was fuming and not about to let this entitled bitch make me feel bad about my dog being a dog.

I mean, really?!? Often the pack running in the park will bomb down the alley and crowd the gate when a new dog comes in – it’s all part of the Dog Park Experience. This woman was out of her mind bringing her injured dog inside the park.

They finally just walked it around the outside of the fence, where it got to sniff noses through the fence, which is what they should have done in the first place!

Stoopid people! Really soured the rest of my day.

* Sabu allows a certain amount of growling and barking when she’s at the park, but if a dog sounds like it’s being hurt or is squealing with fear, Sabu is right over there, sorting out who the problem dog is (not the one making the fear noises) and herding it away from its victim. It’s amazing to see. If two or more dogs are playing and they get too loud, either growling or barking, Sabu races over to be sure no one is getting hurt and if one dog is being too rough, in Sabu’s opinion, it will be corrected, severely if need be, before being allowed to continue playing.

One day there was a smaller intact male dog who was humping every other dog. I mean, he was really trying with everything that moved. This caused the other dogs to start hopping around to avoid him while still playing their game. Sabu took one look at the the situation, ran over and herded that horny little shit away from the other dogs. She then grabbed him in the middle of his back and repeatedly pushed him down onto the ground until he submitted to her. There would be no more humping while Sabu was on duty. Little Dog was not hurt and his owner was not unhappy about Sabu’s discipline (thankfully) and peace once again reigned.

 

 

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People Suck – Part Whatever

After lunch Sabu and I were on our typical walk, down the alley, around the corner and up the street. We walk this way Monday thru Thursday, rain or shine.

The first house around the corner is owned by the neighboring church and stood empty for well over a year. I believe it’s generally used to house the pastor and his family. It’s a nice house, two story, large with lots of windows.

Some months ago there was a flurry of activity as the house was readied for new tenants. I thought it would be a new pastor and family, but instead a white trash family of dubious origin and a bunch of kids ranging in age from four to OMG surly teen moved in.

Now, before you get all up in arms that I used the term white trash, let me explain. These people ARE white and they ARE trash. How do I know? The crap that has started piling up in the yard, the belligerent, tattooed miscreants smoking and drinking on the front stoop, the language coming out of the mouths of everyone over there, the damaged vehicles (looks like they like to drink AND drive for entertainment) and on and on. These are not quality people and I wonder if regular church goers are sorry they rented to them.

There does not appear to be a male head-of-household, only an assortment of young-ish men half-dressed and smoking on the front step most mornings. No, they aren’t all the same guy. Sigh. It’s ugly.

Anyway. I’m not usually one to judge so harshly, but I’ve had a couple of run-ins with the woman in charge that make no sense and leave me angry and wanting to hit someone.

The first time, I was pulling my car from the alley onto the street. There’s a hedge that partially obscures the sidewalk until you’re right up on it. She was pushing a stroller with her 4-year-old daughter walking alongside. I came up on the sidewalk and she yelled at me for pulling up in front of her.

What? She was 10 feet back, was in no danger of being hit and I was moving at a crawl anyway. I looked into my driver’s side mirror to see if it was clear to back up when she started yelling again, this time calling names. Sabu started to snarl and claw at the window, so I pulled out into the street to her curses and bellowing.

WTF? That’s some high-class parenting right there! I couldn’t believe she was so nasty over nothing.

Today Sabu and I had another run-in with her. We were walking by her yard (strewn with lawn chairs on their sides and assorted broken toys and bits of trash) as she was pulling up in her (barely running) car with a child in the back.

Sabu did what dogs do – she peed on the edge of the grass. OMG! You would think she left a big, wet pile of crap for the reaction we got.

“Do you let that dog do that on everybody’s yard?” She was red-faced and shouting at me, gesturing at the grass.

“She just peed. If she’d pooped I would pick it up…” Stunned by her reaction, I kept walking.

“You didn’t pick it up last time! You never pick it up, blah, blah, blah…..”

I was getting angry now and turned fully around to look her in the face. “I always pick up her poop. Always!”

“You didn’t the other day!” She’s really winding up now and I’m getting mad enough to do something I’ll regret.

“It wasn’t me. It wasn’t this dog…” walking away now, trying to hold my tongue.

“I have five witnesses in the house who saw you! It was YOU!!!”

Fighting to stay calm, I said, “You’re wrong. It wasn’t me and it wasn’t this dog,” before turning and walking away.

She continued to shout at me but I tuned her out.

WTF? I’ve had people stop, in their cars, to thank me for picking up my dog’s poop. I am known for picking up after my dog in a neighborhood where no one bothers. Why does this woman have such a chip on her shoulder for me? What did I ever do to her but let her daughter pet my dog?

Gaaaahhhhhh!!! People like that give this town a bad name. What a crappy way to end my lunch break on a Monday afternoon.

 

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And we’re back!

June was a busy month!

Sabu got her new Summer ‘do –

Sabu 'Do

She was humiliated with the bows, but she’s sooooo much cooler now. A little razor burn has been bothering her, but today she’s doing much better. She looks so small! I need to get a new harness in a smaller size – I had no idea her fluff added so much to her girth!

Revy developed a new strange habit –

Revy blanketAs if mauling anything made of rubber wasn’t bad enough, Revy found this (unfinished) blanket and has been dragging it around, chortling softly. He drags it into the kitchen, lays on it for a few seconds, drags it under the table, into his basket, etc. etc. etc. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but it’s strange to watch. I think he needs to get out more…

I ripped out half the carpet in Towanda and am thrilled with the results – you can read all about it over at Travels with Towanda. Awana and I have designated July RV Renovation Month.

The last alpaca was sheared on Thursday and it feels like I’ve been running ever since. Mo got a call from a woman who needs her five alpacas sheared and it looks like we’ll be taking our little show on the road.

Mom’s neighborhood yard sale is the second weekend in July and I hope to get pictures this time – it’s always a hoot.

July is shaping up to be a very busy month.

In news relevant to this blog, the narc (hereinafter referred to as Captain Bligh) is living the Good Life, sailing up to Canada with friends, where he will pick up his boat and spend a few weeks sailing around and having a wonderful time. How is that fair? Shouldn’t he be covered with boils or something?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled with my life right now, but it just doesn’t seem fair that he’s going on as if I never existed, all the lies he told me being proven by his very actions (I needed to give him more money, more time, more support for his hobbies.)

Maybe he’ll be lost at sea…

 

 
8 Comments

Posted by on June 30, 2014 in Cats, Crazy, Dogs, I totally Rock!, RV Living

 

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Godbag at the Dog Park

The weekend was incredibly busy and overwhelming socially. I’m still recovering.

On the first Saturday of the month there’s a big gathering at the yarn shop and the place was full. I arrived early and stayed after. Somehow the clock at home went from 8:07 to 10:35 in three and a half minutes and I missed breakfast, which may have had something to do with how the rest of the day went.

There’s a guy who showed up at the usual Wednesday evening gathering. I don’t like him. He sets off my Freak-Dar lights and sirens but the other ladies think he’s just fine. He’s a young-ish man with prison tattoos and the look of the newly-released. He has not brought any project to work on and in fact claims not to know how to knit or crochet or to have money to buy supplies. He just wants to sit and visit and enjoy all the creative energy. Yeeeee-aaaaahhhhh. Dude creeps me out. He was there and in fact sat next to me, upping his creep factor exponentially. I don’t like his vibe at what is normally a very friendly gathering of like-minded people. More on him as the story develops.

After 5 or so hours of socializing Sabu and I headed for the dog park where we found three young springer spaniels romping about. They weren’t interested in Sabu, but they reliably fetched her ball over and over again which amused me greatly.

After awhile a very large pit bull showed up with his people. The dog (an intact male – don’t get me started on why that’s wrong!) was rather shy and didn’t want to play with the pups, who left soon afterwards. The couple did not look like locals. They wore brand new camo pants tucked into boots (not military boots, but Dog Park Boots) with rather dressy-looking jackets, obviously expensive. It was a discordant combination, but whatever. There’s an RV camping park within the State Park that also houses the dog park and we get all kinds.

The husband, Raymond (we’ll call him Ray from now on because it’s easier to type) spoke at some length about their conversion to a vegan diet three years ago (everything good for him started three years ago when he had an epiphany, but this did not become apparent for awhile) and how their dog is also vegan because they don’t want to consume the chemicals, hormones and antibiotics found in meat. Fine. I am on board for knowing what’s in your food and making informed decisions about what to consume. I even agree that factory farmed meat is not a good choice if you want to live a healthy life.

Then the conversation went a bit sideways. Now, normally I would not engage with a wacko, but I had not eaten, it was 3:00 on a beautiful sunny afternoon and I didn’t have anywhere to be until Sabu pooped, so I decided to start poking at the guy. Just for fun, you understand.

He asked me if I knew about chemtrails. Uh. Nope. Hoo-boy! I got an earful about that and then started asking questions.

“How far down do you figure the conspiracy goes?” I asked. “I mean, does the guy who puts the chemicals into the fuel know what he’s doing? Do you think he cares that he’s poisoning himself and all his descendants? How would the government keep those guys in line? Is money enough or do they use threats?” And so on in this vein until he changed the subject. Seems he was quite comfortable with the idea that Big Government was poisoning the world in their quest to reduce the population and bring about the New World Order prophesied in the bible, but the thought of one single Dude knowingly pouring poison into the atmosphere made him squirm. Interesting.

Predictably the conversation turned to god and his relationship with this particular dude. I heaved in internal sigh when Ray said, “I don’t mean to offend you, but I don’t know your religious background…”

Not wanting to give him any hints as to what my beliefs might be, I simply said, “none,” with a shrug.

His eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning and he launched into his spiel about the errors of his youth with respect to what he was taught about the bible. Turns out the church authorities of his younger days had it all wrong with their portrayal of god as a vengeful ruler who damned all people to hellfire for the slightest of “sins.” HIS god is a just, merciful god, and isn’t that a wonderful thing? Oh, he was positively beaming at that point, waiting for me to do…something…I never know with these people.

So, being my mother’s daughter, I said, “My problem is not with god, or with anyone who believes in a god, just and merciful or not. I take issue with organized religion and its crimes against women and children. I can’t stand behind any religious organization that would take away my right to choose and demand that me and my children submit to a man as head of my family, regardless of his ability to handle that role. I don’t believe in an organization that kills millions of people because they don’t have the same belief or who enslaves another people just because the color of their skin is darker. I realize that Rich White Dudes rule the world, but I don’t have to like it and I don’t have to subscribe to their propaganda, either.”

He was taken aback but jumped right onto my hottest button: abortion. I don’t remember his exact words, but he made it clear that he believes life begins at conception and to end that life is a horrible thing that only the most wicked of women even consider.

My reply was scathing. “No woman takes the decision to have an abortion lightly – that you think we do is because you are a man and will never face that decision. What about instances of rape?”

You’re gonna love this!

“Women VERY rarely get pregnant as a result of rape,” he said, “it’s too traumatic an event and pregnancy just doesn’t happen…”

“I don’t find that true, based on my personal experience,” I said.

Blink. Blink. Blink. For a moment he was lost for words.

His wife had been pretty much silent, nodding her head occasionally, obviously used to Ray’s public proselytizing and not in any hurry to leave, but at my remark her head came up and she looked me in the eyes. I couldn’t tell what her expression meant, but I like to think she was urging me to poke him again to see what he would say to this break in his routine.

He spluttered and repeated that it was “rare.”

“I think you need to reconsider the word ‘rape’ and take into account the ‘non-violent’ occurrences that happen every day, some of which DO end up causing pregnancy.” Hunger pangs were beginning to sour my mood, as was the smug face of this man without a clue.

He started in about how the “body rejects a pregnancy when it comes with violence….” and I told him that was bullshit and I based that opinion on my own personal experience.

Obviously uncomfortable with my insistence, he changed tacks and I was immediately reminded of the narc and his circular arguments. This was turning into an entertaining experiment.

“If a woman has the right to end a life, shouldn’t a man have that same right?” he asked. “Can a man just sign away his obligations to a child he doesn’t want? Do you see that happening?”

“A man can wear a condom and make it very hard for a woman to get pregnant if he doesn’t want children, and he can indeed sign away his parental rights here in Oregon. My first husband did.”

“Just like that? A man can’t deny his obligations, his responsibilities with the stroke of a pen! That’s absurd!”

“Yeah, he can. The father of my son did. He did not pay one penny of child support, nor has he once seen or even asked about his son in the past 22 years. Just. Like. That.”

We went round and round for awhile in this vein. He doesn’t believe in sex education and I pointed out that abstinence only education Does Not Work, nor does slut shaming, victim blaming or denying the problem exists. Sexualizing young girls, teaching them they only have worth as sex objects from the time they’re small children and giving men power over them everywhere they turn has created a rape culture that leads to all of the things he’s so outraged about.

He denied my interpretations. I pointed out that he’s not a woman and has no idea what I, personally, have had to endure in my life. He has no concept of the things I’ve had to do to keep a job, keep a roof over my head, to keep my son fed, to exist in a world controlled by Rich White Dudes. He has no idea how hard it can be for a young woman to say no when a man who has power over her (real or perceived) demands sex and that we need to educate and encourage all women to be strong and independent, punish men who beat and rape and shirk their responsibilities, and then we might approach the nirvana he seems to live every day.

He made some asinine comment about good men and blah, blah, blah, but I was mad by that point and said, “there are a lot of bad men out there. I’ve met many of them. You have no idea.”

He could see the conversation was over and so he said again, “I hope I haven’t offended you…”

This is, of course, my cue as a submissive woman to thank him for enlightening me and apologize for being rude and disagreeing. Instead I said, “you haven’t offended me. We can agree to disagree. I haven’t lived your life. Just remember that you haven’t lived mine, either.”

There was much more to the conversation, but I won’t bore you with details.

While we were talking, Sabu was trying everything she could think of to get Tank the pitbull to play with her. He was very gentle and shy for the longest time, not wanting to get physical, but Sabu insisted she wanted to wrestle and he finally obliged. What followed was an epic wrestling match and Tank falling in love with Sabu so hard he was drooling all over himself. At last! Here was a female he could relate to! She wasn’t having any of his mounting efforts, but he was undeterred – she’d come around sooner or later, right? It was a mirror of the human conversation.

In the end, we left the park, me feeling a bit slimed, Sabu literally covered in slime. It was a good day.

For the record, I have never become pregnant as a result of violent rape, nor had an abortion, but I will fight to my last breath to defend any woman’s right to choose, regardless of circumstances and I will continue to school ignorant assholes whenever I meet them. I just can’t keep silent any longer, even knowing that I can’t really change anything with my truth telling.

 

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Another battle lost…

Revy, being a smarter-than-average cat, has learned a new trick. You see, he has very definite preferences when it comes to dry food – he only wants Purina Kitten Chow. Not the organic, no colors added, all natural ingredients kibble. Not the store brand kibble. ONLY Purina Kitten Chow. The dog has had more than her fair share of rejected cat food mixed in with her Science Diet (not that she cares – she’ll eat anything) and I have agreed to feed the cat what he prefers in the interest of not giving the dog the runs.

The other day the store was out of PKC and I didn’t want to make another stop, so I brought home a bag of Purina CAT Chow. It’s not the same, obviously. In fact, it’s a personal affront if you’re Revy the RV Cat.

He was completely out of his preferred kibble, so I poured the new kibble into his bowl (which sits atop the counter in the back room. This will become relevant in a minute) and stood back, awaiting his judgement.

One sniff and he gave me the Look of Death.

“They were out of Kitten Chow. You’ll have to make do until I go to the store again. Suck it up, Princess,” I said and walked away.

He scooped all the kibble out onto the counter and ran in to tell me his bowl was empty. Again.

I put the kibble back and told him it wouldn’t kill him to eat something different for a couple of days.

He scooped it out again. I put it back. He scooped it out. And so on for two days.

On the evening of the third day I noticed the counter was clean and the bowl was empty. Revy was hungry so I filled his bowl again. He gave me the Death Stare but I was unmoved. I walked away, figuring he’d been eating it and probably wouldn’t starve before I could get to the store.

A little while later, I was sitting on the couch knitting a hat when I heard crunching noises. A quick look around revealed that the dog was not in the room. More crunching noises.

I heaved a big sigh and took myself off to the back room where I beheld an amazing sight.

Revy was perched on the counter, a mess of dry kibble all around, his empty dish behind him. Sabu was sitting in front of the counter, looking attentively at the cat. If that doesn’t strike fear into the heart of a dog owner, I don’t know what will!

Revy gave me the Death Stare, reached out his little white paw, flung a single cat kibble onto the floor and sat back to watch the show. Sabu pounced on the kibble, crunched it down in two bites, sat again and looked expectantly at the cat.

Right. That explains why the counter was so clean – seems Sabu has been putting her front feet up there and licking the counter, scraping all the dried kibble up and licking out Revy’s bowl. All with full agreement from that damned cat! How long has this been going on? Why did I not notice sooner? WTF?

You know what I did? I went to the store and came home with a bag of PKC, that’s what I did, because evidently everything else is only fit to feed to the dog. What’s next?

 
40 Comments

Posted by on March 13, 2014 in Cats, Crazy, Dogs, Stuff that Pisses Me Off!

 

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Monday Morning Madness

My eyes snapped open before the alarm this morning. I couldn’t breathe. My heart started to race as I tried to drag in some air around a huge obstruction. Raising my hands to my throat, I encountered a mass of fur that wasn’t there when I went to sleep. It felt like a hairy snake and immediately began to purr. Seems Revy decided to sleep across my neck, sprawled out with his belly resting right on top of my windpipe.

This shouldn’t have been possible, seeing as how I’m normally a side sleeper, but obviously the new bed is comfortable enough that I turn onto my back at the same hour Revy decides to start his wake-up routine. Threat of suffocation is, evidently, the latest in a long line of tactics designed to steal my sleep and get kibble into his bowl in the least amount of time. Guess this means I better not drink before bed or maybe I won’t wake up in the morning.

Spring is in the air and it was a very busy weekend. Thursday, Friday and Saturday saw me awake at 0530. Wide awake and listening to the birds outside. Revy is beside himself with joy. Apparently, his training methods are finally paying off and breakfast is being served on time.

I sewed up a bed for the dog, low in the center with a soft, raised edge, something I thought I could use as a training tool to make her be still instead of barking and having a fit when someone approaches the trailer. You know, train her to act like a Real Dog? As you can see, it was not received as planned:

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERARevy finds it perfect – a fort to defend against canine insurgents, a bathing platform and soft bed to sprawl upon after racing around like a maniac. The dog has been exiled to whatever small space she can find:

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA The good news is that the furniture is finally arranged to my liking and the silver insulation has been removed from the windows, letting in the beautiful Spring sunshine. Of course, the brisk Spring breezes now have easier access, but one has to take the good with the not-so-good, no?

 

 
9 Comments

Posted by on February 24, 2014 in Cats, Dogs, Happy, RV Living

 

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