All posts tagged with "animals"

Some folks have been wondering how the new boat did during her first New Orleans hurricane. Short answer: just fine. She looks exactly like I left her before the storm. But storm-time New Orleans lakefront is interesting enough. Here's a story in pictures. And one little video at the end.

This week, a group of Orcas sank a sailboat near the Strait of Gibraltar. You've likely being seeing these stories for several months. They've attacked a couple hundred boats over there. Very often, they do little or no damage. A few times, they've sunk the boat. This is nerve-wracking.

We went on a Covid-summer road trip that took us the whole Summer. The cat took an entirely different Summer vacation in the Ozarks.

We had something at the house that would lead you to believe that we live in squalor.

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I feel bad for little Blossom. Last night, Lili detected some creature in one of our bushes, and did her beagle bark (BARROOOOOOOOOOO!!!) for about fifteen minutes. I dragged her into the house, but she just went back out the door and started up again. Blossom is her faithful sidekick, and hung out outside with the crazy beagle.

I give some animals some medicine every month. Y'all will be surprised.

I noticed a trend in television this week that I doubt any others will point out. In the course of one week, I have witnessed no less than three realistic-looking vomitings on scripted television shows. I can't remember which show started the trend (Lost maybe?), but it was followed by last week's episode of Huff, and then capped by a multiple Tony Soprano puking last night.

Every year, the NCAA basketball tournament, St. Patrick, and perfect Spring temperatures conspire to make this the best weekend of the year. Either the basketball or the St. Patrick's day parade alone would make this a big deal for me, but the combination of the two make this bigger than Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year's Day, or the highly overrated Fourth of July. Heck, it might eclipse all of the fun in those days combined.

You might recall reading about my friend Nigel, who I also referred to as Director of Aquatics. He's a silly looking cat, with a squat fat body and a stub of a tail, making him look like a little black bear.

My cat won't let me piss or take a bath in peace.

When we first got Lili as a new dog, one of the cats happened to catch and kill a mouse. He left the dead mouse in Lili's bed. Generous gift, or hate crime? It's hard to tell. A more serious crime has been repeated the last two days, but this time, the dog is the perpetrator.

From time to time, I get asked why I don't have any kids clinging to my britches as I push the stroller through Wal Mart. People don't actually word their question like that, but that's what I hear. I understand that the joy of raising your children outweighs my ability to go to Vegas on a lark, eat dinner at nice restaurants without advance planning, or sitting outside in the silence while catching up on my reading. However, there are some signs that I might not be the world's best primary caregiver.

I might be off by a year one way or the other, but I think it was six years ago that our local paper published a series of articles about all of the dogs and cats that our Animal Control Center had to euthanize each week. It was a moving article, and it came at a time when I was thinking that I should have a dog around.

Something always goes to hell in a handbasket when I have to go on a work trip. When I heard Gatsby moving around in the kitchen, I got up and walked in there to give him some attention. But he wasn't there. Instead, there's scratching in the cabinet above the stove. I turned on the light and opened the door.

Last night, while I was walking Daisy, my Ipod ran out of juice. It was a little different with just the sounds of the night rather than the soundtrack that Ipod chooses for me. Daisy and I usually walk at 9:00. I sometimes get asked why we walk at such an odd hour. Well, here are the reasons:

Once upon a time, Mrs. skinnyonbenny was just a young college girl named Heather, and I was the yankee guy that she kept bringing home for visits. It's important to note that I had not 6 ounces of muscle on me at that time. Home for Heather happened to be a working cattle farm, so occasionally, I got put to work. On this particular day, I don't recall getting any advance notice or warning that we were going to work, just a sudden invitation to take part.