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Posts Tagged ‘dogs’

I just love Crazy Aunt Purl, although I am a little miffed lately because she has had to cut off comments and sometimes there is  something I just want to tell her or comment to her and I can’t and that is why, like Crazy Aunt Purl, I would like to stab someone repeatedly with a fork.  In my case, and I would not doubt she would like to also, the idiot who was stalking/harassing her.

I mean, I do not think that was the reason Crazy Aunt Purl wanted to stab someone repeatedly with a fork, but it would be a reason for me.

Scroll down to April 15, 2009, on Crazy Aunt Purl and read “Just another day in the neighborhood.”  I have lived in semi-rural neighborhoods, small city neighborhoods and rural neighborhoods, but I have never lived in a big city neighborhood. 

I have always thought that city living would be fun to do for a year or two though.  You know, get rid of the car and the insurance and the repairs, grab a bus when you want to go anywhere, spend Saturdays at a museum, Sundays at the park, just walk to the neighborhood night spot and listen to some jazz or blues.

I have however, lived in apartments where I could hear the next door man beating up his wife (yes, I called the police.  I do that kind of thing.), or I had to go next door and  hold the new baby because the 17 year old nervous mother had no idea what to do to calm him.  

Now, our neighbors are dogs and that is not a commentary on their personality.  It is their non-human companions I am talking about.  We rarely hear from the neighbors themselves, it is their dogs that we have to deal with.  No one seems to keep their pets in their yards and dogs wander all over.  They all travel through our yard.  This includes the two Chihuahua’s across the street to the two St. Bernard’s two doors down the road from us, who own their very own pet, a 9 pound dog that hangs with them.  And, they leave piles for our Irritating little Chihuahua to smell. I mean, if you came across a pile of poop as big as you are, well—–. 

In her city neighborhood, Crazy Aunt Purl has a loud mother with children who suffer from a rare form of selective deafness (probably from all that loud talking), and neighbors who cannot seem to learn to shut their car alarm off when they open their door. 

In my semi-rural neighborhood, I have automobile owners who think it is cool to hang Confederate flags on their car, wear shirts riped out on the side so everyone can verify they have armpit hair and blast out “Watermelon Crawl’ from their mammoth woofers.  Then there is the family whose young child screamed for two years straight.  I do not believe that child learned to talk until she was five.

But, the worse are those who have dogs who bark all night.  I mean, literally all night long.  Some live like a mile away and I have no idea how they sleep through it, but once in  a while I have a neighbor who shoots dogs.  No, it is not me.  But, you can only be sleep deprived for so long.  Last night the barking was coming from three directions.  I felt like I was in a 101 Dalmatian movie with a dog telegraph going on for an emergency.

By the way:  Crazy Aunt Purl  has a book out and it is hilarious.

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No, this is not about ex-husbands, although I have a couple of them, and one fits the dog category. No, I correct that; he would be an insult to dogs everywhere.  He might make for good blogging someday though. I will let you know when I am willing to share my total stupidity with the world.

 

Dog #1 = LUCKY:

When I was a child, we had a rat terrier who did not like little girls and we had to keep him leashed. I had a cousin who liked to try to hit the dog with a stick and we think that is where his hatred of little girls came from. She occasionally had that affect on people too; although I don’t know of any of them who tried to bite her.

 

However, when my daughter was born, he took a liking to her.

 

Here is Master’s Daughter and Lucky

 

Lucky was my buddy, my confidant and my comfort, when I was young.  But, let any other little girl, especially if she had a high pitched voice, in the yard and he would attack.

 

Dog #2 = Muffin:

 As an adult and mother, the girls and I were putting laundry in the car one day and came out to find a cute, mangy black cockapoo (Cockerspaniel-poodle) sitting by our car. We all gave her pets and then went back for the last of the laundry, leaving the car door open.

 

Yep! You guessed it. On our next trip out, mangy cockapoo was sitting in the back seat. She knew a sucker when she met one, or three. She did not have a collar on and her ribs were sticking out, so we took her home. We watched the paper for days and no one advertised for her.  She turned out to be the best dog in the world.

 

Not too many months after she came to live with us, she delivered a liter of pups. As straggler’s tend to do. She cared for them with all the patience of a long suffering mother; often jumping over the barrier and looking at me with this “DO SOMETHING – it’s your turn” look on her face.

 

 

 

We had a peach tree on the property and Cockapoo loved those peaches. Even when winter froze the ones on the ground, she would come into the house with her head cocked to one side, in an attempt to hide the frozen pear she was sneaking in to eat. She really was not supposed to bring them inside, but we got so we just ignored the fact that she was crunching a pearcicle, in the front room.

 

She had other strange eating habits, for a dog. She loved hot peppers. The first time I was cutting them up, she kept sitting up and begging, until I finally threw her a chunk and she swallowed it down. I thought she would run to her water dish but, she sat and begged for more, and ate them until I was done cutting them up.

 

When she got really hungry and we were not eating things like pears and hot peppers, she would go in the kitchen and grab a mouthful of dog food and then walk on her tippy toe nails, loudly clicking all the way to the dining room, drop the clatter of dog food and chomp each bite loudly until we gave in and gave her some veggies.

 

She lived with us for over seventeen years (I bet her arteries were clean.) I slept on the floor, by her side, the night before she died. I was heartbroken and still miss her.

 

She is buried under her pear tree.

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