Bodacious Boomer

We live in Houston and are not unaccustomed to heavy rains.  Houstonians whose synapses are still talking to each other know what to do. You only go where you absolutely have to go on these days. We’ve had heavy rains predicted for the last couple of days, and it did rain, heavy. But that was nothing compared to this morning.

About 7 am Doug and I were awakened by the thunder. Immediately thereafter came the tropical storm type rain. I like snuggling in the rain. As we laid there I was just hoping that the pack would stay quiet in their crates until their usual time of 8 am. That was not to be.

Normally I let them out and immediately put them out the back door to do their morning ablutions. As I expected, when I opened the back door this morning, I saw a lake with no shoreline. In the past few weeks, in an effort to keep Daisy from digging out, Doug has bit by bit encircled our entire backyard with solid concrete blocks.

On the plus side, her digging out has stopped. On the minus side, now whenever we have a big storm we have a lake. Normally this isn’t a big thing. But first thing in the morning it is. I had 5 dogs with full bladders this morning and there was no way they were going to do their business out back.

It was so deep that Little Bit, the Pom and Gizmo, the Chi/Yorkie mix would’ve been swimming. I guess the rain had molded my brain because I didn’t even consider just putting a belly band on the little guys. Instead I thought I’d just put them on their leashes, open the front door and let them go in the flower beds that were under the eaves. (That way we’d all be protected from the torrential downpour.)

It sounded good. In practice, not so much. When we’d stayed at Motel 6 for 2 weeks all of them became very accustomed to doing their business while on a leash. Well, either they’d forgotten how to do it (unlikely) or were just feeling stubborn (most probably), but I got no where with that plan.

So I took them back in and tried to get them back in their crates. This too proved problematic. The twins sat down like donkeys and looked at me as if to say “You want me back in there? I just came outta there. I don’t think so. Thank you very much.”

The little guys went into their crates and then proceeded to throw fits since they hadn’t yet relieved themselves and besides, all the big kids were still out- not fair! It is amazing just how annoying two such small dogs can be. Meanwhile Daisy was bouncing off the furniture like she’d just done some speed.

I made a command decision.

I decided to take them on the front porch, sans leashes. It was still storming- lightning , thunder, real act of God type weather. I actually didn’t think they’d leave considering the extreme conditions. I was wrong. They went running like they were turbo powered. I swear I thought I saw Blackie stop, turn and give me a raspberry.

I knew I couldn’t get them back by myself, so I went in to get Doug who had just finished his morning business. Nothing short of a direct hit by a nuke would delay that. They could set the Atomic clock by his bowels.

An ugly conversation ensued. (It’s amazing in times of stress just how nasty two normally loving people can be to each other.) I grabbed leashes, he the car keys. We each had our phones and went different ways, which at this point was a good idea.

Meanwhile I noticed that the trash guys didn’t take the old couch that Doug had put out for the trash. (They were supposed to.) My day was just getting better and better now, knowing that the croan with the HOA would be flying by on her broom today looking for the “bad seeds” who’d violated the deed restrictions.

The umbrella wasn’t helping anyway so I threw it aside and stalked down the block. I got about three houses down when a truck drove past and I noticed my neighbor staring at me. Then I realized that in my haste to leave I’d forgotten to put on my bra and now I looked like a participant in a wet T-shirt contest  (if you add 30 years and more than a few pounds). This was just fucking fabulous.

Within the next hour we successfully collected all the escapees. I couldn’t be mad at them. It was my fault. Wet, muddy dogs in a car is not a wonderful smell. After they got home and somewhat dry, they all ate and ate and were then most happy to toddle into their “houses” for naps.

So how was your day?

I was awakened to the lovely smell this morning; and it wasn’t Folgers in my cup. It was poop.

The smell was overpowering. The  pack was still safely tucked away each in their own crate which were at least 35′ and 1 closed door from where I was laying. I’d always heard that a dog wouldn’t “go” in their crate.

So as I laid there savoring the aroma I wondered- where was the poop?

Fearfully, I felt around under the sheet  to see if  Doug had perhaps had an extreme senior moment and had just forgotten to get out of bed and had just let shit fly while he was asleep, so to speak. (He never had before, but there’s a first time you know.)

Thank God I didn’t feel anything squish between my fingers. I was quite relieved. Still the stench was pervasive. I checked our bathroom, assuming Doug was in there and had just forgotten to do a courtesy flush. He hadn’t.

How men can sit in with that stench and continue to read is a mystery to me.

I got up and checked the hall bathroom to see if the perhaps the sewer had backed up- nothing there. This was perplexing.

By now, the pack knew I was up and about so they were too; barking ensued. One by one I checked them as I  let them out of their houses and out the back door.

Still nothing, til I got to Blackie.  We have a winner! I opened her crate and she ran out like her tail was on fire, dripping poop as she ran. It was a wonderful way to start the day.

So he wouldn’t feel left out, I got Doug (luckily before his shower) and apprised him of the situation, knowing that he’d be eager to share in the fun. And since Blackie’s crate is ginormous and awkward to carry, he was gallant enough to take it outside for me, throw away the pillows that were enrobed in poop and then wash the crate.

(Doug seizes on any opportunity to throw his cape over a puddle for me you know.) What a guy!

Finally, everybody else gets back in, I’ve cleaned up the drips from the Pergo, Doug’s left for work and I’m just settling in to look at emails and start my day when I hear….

AAARRRRGH!

I look to my left and there’s Blackie, hunching up.

I yelled STOP!, although looking back, that seems really stupid. I’ve been that sick before and if you’ve gotta go, you gotta go. I mean what did I expect her to do? I felt bad.

Now she’s standing next to a dinner size somewhat runny pile of something that should never be in a house, much less on carpeting. If she’d only moved one more foot and she would’ve made it on to the Pergo, an infinitely better place to have an “accident” of any sort; but alas, she did not.

I apologize to her for yelling while quickly ushering her outside lest anything else vile come spewing out.

Lucky for me I have a strong gag reflex I’m thinking as I’m cleaning it up with a spatula, then paper towels, then water, then Febreze.

The good news is that whatever she was suffering from seems to have now passed and none of the other 4  have it. If I had 5 at a time with this I might just run away with the “jitsies”.

So now I’m looking forward to a fun filled afternoon of using the carpet steamer in an effort to rid the room of the noxious smell.

The jitsies are looking better all the time.

I just did one of my good deeds for the day by going to Freekibble.com. When you go there and answer a simple multiple choice trivia question about something dog-related you donate kibble to shelter dogs.  (They have meow trivia for cat people as well.) I highly recommend the site. It takes me about 30 seconds a day and sometimes I learn something new. I did just today.

The question today was – “What percentage of dog owners let their dogs lick their faces? The answers were  3%, 30%, 63% or 90%.I got the answer wrong, answering 63%. I’m really surprised since every dog owner that know personally is accepting of canine kisses. The correct answer was 30%.

Of course there are even  those folks that accept encourage their dogs to French kiss them. That’s just wrong on so many levels. I was going to include a photo of that, but after seeing one, decided against it.You’re welcome. I just hope I can sleep tonight.

The site also said that 21% of people let their dogs lick their dishes. Years ago I heard that a restaurant in Thailand was having dogs lick the plates instead of washing them. I never researched it at the time; but I tried to today and never found any facts to support this, so I think that was just an urban myth.

I was raised doing this. But then we always had a dishwasher with a sani-rinse cycle. Of course prior to 1963 I was usually the dishwasher, so I guess over time we just became immune to whatever germs Max, our dachshund had at that time.

So the question of the day is “Are you licked?”

Yesterday Evelyn invited me to come do our laundry at her house.  I reminded her that I couldn’t leave the pack at the Motel 6 while I was gone. “Bring them with you. They can stay in the yard”. It’s in the mid-70′s during the day now, so being outside, especially after being cooped up in a motel room for so long, would be a real treat for my group.

Evelyn has four furry souls that reside with her right now- one dog and three cats. She has her #1 canine- Annie- her rescued American Cattle dog, Topaz, an ancient calico who is queen of all she surveys, Zoe, a Halloweenie ( all black) kitty who’s a real sweetie; and then there’s Buddy.

Buddy is a ginormous tuxedo cat. He weighs 15 lbs if he weighs an ounce. Buddy is on an extended visit at Evelyn’s. His owner is between apartments, so Evelyn said he could stay at her house for awhile- til August to be exact. As everyone knows I’m a dog person, so I don’t understand all the peccadilloes that cats have. But this is the most self-assured cat that I’ve ever encountered. He just oozes entitlement. Although Annie tries to herd everybody, she doesn’t try to herd Buddy. He just sits there and looks at her. It looks like he thinking “Bring it. Come on. Just try it”.

Evelyn has been the hostess with the mostest, Buddy-wise and how does he repay her? By trying to escape whenever he can. When she catches him outside is he remorseful and stricken with shame? Hell no. He’s a cat. The first time she retrieved him she came away from it bleeding on both arms and wound up covered with band-aids. He got out and was missing for 5 days recently. Evelyn went so far as to call as pet detective. (I was sure the next step was going to be a Ouija board). Thankfully, he came back, slipping in without being noticed, just like he had slipped out. Cats are sneaky.

Yesterday he ran out the back door when Annie pushed it in. I didn’t know he was out til I heard a big commotion. Buddy was out alright, but instead of the leisurely stroll I’m sure he had planned, he was greeted by my pack. Greeted might not actually be the correct word. Accosted might be more accurate. By the time I got there, Buddy was on his back being examined up close and personal by the pack. They’re not usually around a cat so to say they were interested would be a huge understatement. To their credit, they didn’t hurt him; not they should’ve have- but you know the whole dog/cat thing.

Buddy was on his back for just a few seconds. I started yelling to distract my group and when I did, Buddy ran up the tree like his tail was on fire.

Evelyn took this photo of Buddy atop the tree. We got all the dogs quieted and secured then Doug put a ladder next to the tree. As soon as he did that Buddy came down and his own and made a beeline for the back door. If he doesn’t try to escape out the back again, Evelyn’s thinking about having our pack wait for him just outside the front door. Aversion therapy in action I guess. BTW- Buddy is just fine and back to being his condescending self. Cats.

I’m a happy camper- well mostly happy that is. We got our pack from the kennel yesterday, only cost me $300. That was the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time. They all had lost weight. (I guess that’s to be expected). To say that they were happy to see us would be like saying the Titanic had a small leak. I made a mistake of wearing a skirt, instead of pants when we went pick them up. By the time everyone got to the motel I looked like I’m in an abusive relationship. I was all covered with scratches. Today I’ve got the bruises they gave me yesterday as well. (All that was a small price to pay to have them back with me so that’s OK).

The part of not being completely thrilled is that we’re still camped out at the Motel 6, so to speak, which means that we’re still homeless. We left Evelyn’s yesterday and moved to the Motel 6 so I could have the pups with us. We’re staying at one of the renovated Motel 6′s. Their renovated rooms are actually quite an improvement from before. They got rid of those God awful shower pods they’d been using. I guess those were OK if you were tall. However, if you’re vertically challenged like I am, they suck. The water came straight down on top of your head. (I guess enough of us non-Amazon types complained so they finally decided to make the change.)

Juggling all the dogs in and out of the room at the motel for potty breaks can be somewhat challenging, but it is doable. It would be nice if they all  could get their eliminatory systems in sync, however for now, that still seems to be a dream not a reality. One bit of good news today though. We tracked down the Realtor, or the husband of, that is, who leased our last house to us. He said he’d be willing to give us a perfect rental history for 2.5 out of the last 3 years. The last six months of course, Doug was in a firefight with out Iraqi landlord about rent credits for Doug’s work on his houses. What a God-awful mess. Doug’s trying to find the right lawyer to handle our suits when we sue the *******.

Anyway, finally finding the Realtor and being able to verify our rental history is good news and should help us. (Funny how homeowners want to know how you’ve paid your rent the last few years). I’d tried to explain our situation to some agents recently, but the whole situation sounded wacked, even to me, as we explained it. Doug is supposed to meet with a man later today. Pls keep your fingers crossed for us.

Doug just came in after walking the dogs. A guy down the way had his big German Shepherd out on a leash. His dog play bowed at Blondie and Daisy, wanting to play. Gizmo, all 9 lbs. of him, went off on him. Luckily that huge dog had a good disposition and just looked at Giz like he was crazy, which I’m pretty well convinced, he is.

I guess that’s it for now. Thanks to everyone who’s sent me words of encouragement and support. I really appreciate it. I’m still hanging in- at least for now. I know- breathe, breathe, breathe. When you hear the network break into regular programming for a special report  you’ll know either we got our house or Tiger Woods got caught with his pants down again. Let’s hope it’s about our house.