Meet Bert!

Meet Bert!  You will remember him from the Fourth of July post where I coyly, or not so much, slid his picture in.

Bert is new to the pack. I won't say he is replacing Chester because no one could replace Chester.  However, he is filling a void that has been there since Chester has been gone.

B stumbled upon Bert's picture on Facebook.  All that we could see was his little panda face.  That was enough to capture B's heart. He went off to meet Bert.  

Bert was born on the street and living under a porch.  Some nice people trapped him and another nice woman kept him in her bathroom for a week trying to get him to acclimate to living in a house and to people in general.  We give mad props to her for that week because even though he came to us hissing, he quickly warmed up and we think it is because she spent so much time with him.

Not much is known about Bert after these few weeks. He has stopped hissing at us and reserves that usually for the dogs (who he swiped and spit at right away a la Chester style and now they fear all 3 lbs of him), or for B when he startles him out of sleep. To be honest, sometimes I feel like hissing at B when he wakes me, but that is another story.

Bert likes eating. The face above is what he looks like after he eats or, apparently, when he wants to eat B for taking too many pictures.

Most unique feature about Bert is that he only has black on his face, the back of his left paw and all up and down his back. Doesn't he look like someone dipped him in some paint?

Bert has brought another dynamic to the house. Brad is happy to have a friend. Even Mooch seems calmer like maybe he doesn't think that we are out to rid the place of all cats.  The dogs are intrigued, but scared.

I think Chester is smiling down and, perhaps, proud that his spirit lives on in Bert.






*Bert was named after the street he was found on, Liberty.

Wordless Wednesday: What? I Am Just Resting on This Pillow

Wordless Wednesday: Friends or Foes?

It's Summertime and the Sprinkling's Easy

Is it hot enough for you? Don't you hate when people ask that? But they all do. It is like the easy button of small talk.  Anyway, it has been hot here the past couple of days. It started on Saturday, the day of our annual walking tour. It was so hot, I didn't even bother taking pictures.  Check out pictures from a prior year here and here.  Same type of houses, same type of heat.

When we got back, B decided he was going to water the dogs. Literally.  He broke out the sprinkler, which Jersey loves.  It was Nevada's first time.  Luckily, B had the camera at the ready and captured some fun moments:

How does this work?

Where does it come from?

Where does it go?

Oh there! In my face.

If I turn quickly I can catch it.

Maybe I should just contort.

Jersey lets Nevada know she has it under control.

A sprinkler challenge!

And a face-off!

Mid-shake fest.

My name is Nevada and I am FEROCIOUS!

The rest of us humans just showered and took naps. A perfect summer day.

Can you believe it is summer already?

Sunday Sweats: All That Hard Work Was for the Dog(s)!

It has dawned on me that I have not really posted much about stuff that we (meaning mostly B) have been doing around the house.  Since nothing major has happened, I tend to forget about the little things. Luckily, we do take pictures though.  I stumbled upon them and thought I should start posting about them.  I am going to try to do a post at least weekly about what has been happening until I exhaust all that has been done. Knowing B, that could take a long time! He definitely doesn't like to sit idle.

Remember when we felt bad for Jersey and B built her an area so she could roam free while we were out or at work instead of being cooped up in a crate?  Well, I forgot to follow up and tell you how that worked out.

It didn't.

The very first day we tested the new enclosure, I came home and was shocked and puzzled as to why I could see Jersey through the back door wagging her tail at me as if to say "what too you so long?"

Turns out, wood is not going to stop our dog. She chewed a hole in the wood and escaped.  How long did it take her to do this you wonder? Was it our entire work day? No.

It took her less than an hour.

Do you see that hole? It is not even as big as the dog.  She managed to chew through there and get free.  It is not even close to the ground!

Our dog is a beast and she will not be contained!

I felt bad for all of the time that B put into the enclosure.  Jersey did not feel so bad. She felt pretty good, roaming through the house free for an hour. At least she didn't destroy anything in the house.  Jersey was all for freedom.  B had other ideas.

Stay tuned...

Crime Watch Wednesday - Pump Up the Jams, Turn Off the Cats

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday brings us the tale of someone who was fed up with being awoken at 5:30 a.m. every day, and we are not talking about B.

A woman contacted police at 5:30 a.m. to report loud music that she believed was coming from the newspaper delivery person's vehicle. Sure enough, the police responded in 15 seconds and found that it was indeed the newspaper guy's car. The suspect was very sorry.

Maybe the lady could have just asked the newspaper delivery person to turn down his radio? She was already up.  You know, lady, the police have better things to do than ask a guy who is rightfully regretful to turn down the tunes.

For example, perhaps the cops could take care of those crazy street cats that are always tearing it up around midnight while I am just falling asleep. You know the ones I thought were going to get Brad? I am pretty sure if I approached them, they would just claw my eyes out.

Or what about the two dogs behind us that bark for hours on end. That is fun at 7 am. On a Sunday.  THAT IS MY DAY OFF PEOPLE.

Or what about the three cats I have in my house that occasionally act like street cats downstairs while I am trying to sleep and although I have visions of things shattering all around the house, I am too tired to get up and yell down "KNOCK IT OFF!" which never works anyway.

Or the bad karaoke singers who decided to sing show tunes just as we were going to bed at 11:30 p.m. one night?  We had to shut our window on a nice balmy summer night.

What is my point? I will tell you.  The newspaper delivery man is on your block for maybe five minutes tops.  Street cats? They fight ALL NIGHT LONG. It's their gig. Grumpy dogs? HOURS.  Inside cats that think they are streetcats?  A good half hour or more.  Crazy karaoke singers? I don't know, I shut the window.

In the time it took you to make that call, you could have just thrown a pillow over your head and gone back to sleep.  Or I don't know gone to work, like the delivery guy who is trying to earn a living to support his family or his drug habit. Doesn't matter.

Your far more annoyed and less sleep fulfilled neighbor,

The Art of Laboring, Rescuing and Discovering

Well, it is Labor Day. The day you celebrate all of the hard work and labor everyone does by not working.  Wait. Isn't that every holiday?  We are certainly practicing holiday living over here.  Some more so than others.  This is what I came downstairs to find:

Why, yes, that IS every single animal we own lying on B.  B seems pretty happy about it right?  Care to take a closer look?

Chester wants to help him play video games.

Jersey cannot really fit on B but she does a damn good job of taking up most of the rest of the couch!

And see that one right there? The cute little fuzz ball all curled up under B's arm?  Also known as Brad?  Yes, he ESCAPED AGAIN THE OTHER NIGHT.  Escaped. Again.  Is escape the right word when he basically walked through an open door?  Maybe not.  However, B found all three of the cats outside and managed to get them all (Chester ran right inside without any real prodding, Mooch was found under the car), except for B who made a mad leap on to a fence which he then used as his own vaulting mat to sail off into the front yard and disappear before B got there.  

Why, yes, B was not thrilled to be awakened at 3:30 a.m. that night, two hours before he awakes for work, to hear my flying down the stairs screaming "I WILL SAVE YOU BRAD!!!".  What can I say? I heard a major streetcat fight and my little B was not going to get hurt.  

Never did find the cat fight. Or a flashlight for that matter.  Brad, however, was sitting on the steps when B awoke in the morning.  Is there such a thing as a cat crate? We need a cat crate for that one.

A family reunited.

In other news, B was late coming home from work today because he found a gun in the street. Yes, a GUN just lying in the STREET.  A gun with a full clip.  We are so gangsta' around here that we use words like "clip."  So he dutifully took it to the police station who asked him why he didn't call 911.  Can you imagine that call?

B: Yes, I would like to report a gun in the street.
Police: Is anyone holding it?
B: No, it is just lying there.
Police: Is anyone dead.
B: Not that I can see.
Police: Well, just bring that shit in.

Happy Labor Day everyone! May your animals remain prisoners and may your streets remain free from guns!

UPDATE: For those inquiring minds, B would like to report he is not a dumbass. He picked up the gun with his sweatshirt and the clip with his hat. No fingerprints.

They Know Your Every Step. Especially When You Tell Them Your Every Step. Also, Reindeer Are Super Fast.

So the last time I posted, Brad has escaped but miraculously returned the next morning like a grimy Christmas present.  You will also recall that I had quite the conversation with the delivery place whom we thought were the reason for Brad's Great Escape. Turns out it wasn't so, but in the meantime a strange thing happened. Or so I thought.

After I finished yelling at the operator, she told me that she could tell me which branch delivered my package. I gave her my zip code, she told me what branch and then proceeded to tell me they don't have a phone number. I found this hard to believe but just declared "I WILL JUST GO THERE IN PERSON AND DEMAND TO SPEAK TO MY DRIVER. GOOD DAY!"  

And then I didn't give it anymore thought until I came home, discovered the ripped screen and told B that I didn't think the delivery place had anything to do with it.  I did not tell him, however, that while he was out searching for Brad, the delivery place drove by. He probably would have been angry that I didn't chase the driver down.

The next day after Brad was safe and sound and I was back at the office, I received a text from B indicating that the delivery place had called him and told him that they spoke to the driver who remembers seeing Brad on the catio. B told them not to worry, Brad may have been spooked, got supercat strength and busted out the screen. Not their fault.  Well, not really.

Meanwhile I sat in my office perplexed.  How did the delivery place know to call B? How did they get his number? When I called, I only gave them our zip code. I did not call from B's number. Hell, I didn't even call from my number.  I considered this an amazing show of just HOW GOOD THEIR TRACKING COULD BE. I discussed it a lot with my coworkers and would say things like:

"How did THEY know?"

"Did they just ask EVERY driver if it saw a cat?"

"Did they just narrow down deliveries in that time frame?"

"Did they narrow down deliveries by zip code?"

"Do they have a satellite?"

"Are they watching me RIGHT NOW?"

Yes, I would look up and around the ceiling at that last one.  By the time I got home I was full of conspiracy theories and thought we might have to run like Will Smith in that movie where they were tracking him all over when he mistakenly took a package in a store and the woman behind me in the theater kept gasping at "ALL OF THAT TECHNOLOGY."

So I came home prepared to tell B that we were going to have to pack light and really, how does one go on the lam with three cats and a dog, when B said:

B: What in the hell are you talking about?

Me: The delivery place! They knew to call you! I didn't give them ANY information.  They have satellites. They are watching us.

B; What...what?

Me: HOW DID THEY GET YOUR PHONE NUMBER? HOW DID THEY KNOW TO CALL?

B: I emailed them yesterday.

Me: THEY KNOW EVERYTHING WE DO!!!...wait, what?

B: I. Emailed. Them.

Me: Well, hell, why didn't you tell me that? That makes a lot more sense.

B: Doesn't it?

So the delivery place isn't watching me. Allegedly. They are still suspect. Don't worry though, I am sending Vicky after them.

On a completely different topic, watch the video below. This man's wife literally gets taken by a reindeer and he does NOTHING. He barely moves.

I would like to think if we were in the same situation, B would at least TRY to run after me. However, I may be mistaken. B's response was "reindeer are REALLY fast."  Well, gee thanks. Apparently, I don't have much to worry about though as B assures me I would never be somewhere where I would have to wear a big furry parka, outside in the snow with a reindeer in the vicinity.

He is probably right. Just to be safe, I am going to get one of those kid leashes for us. If the reindeer gets me, he is coming along too. Ha!

I Got Into a Fight With a Ram Once

Family meals are much more than heartwarming times with those you love. In our family, it is also fodder for stories, and those stories are fodder for my blog. I mean where else would you find someone who would just casually say "I got into a fight with a ram once" and have it followed by an actual story?  That would be my brother. 

This is his story.

I got into a fight with a ram once.  I went into his pen, then when I wasn't looking and had my back to him, he tried ramming me in the ass with his horns. So I just kept pushing his head back. Whenever I would let go of his head though, he would back up to charge me. Eventually I just got tired and jumped over the fence. The end.

So many questions:

1. Why were you in a pen with a ram?
2. Why did you turn your back to him?
3. What could be so important to make you leave an animal with horns facing your ass?
4. If you could just jump the fence to get free, why did you stay and try to push the ram back?
5. How long did the fight last?
6. Who really won?

Maybe my brother will be kind enough to answer these questions. Or maybe the mystery is what makes this story so intriguing.

*After I said I was going to put this on my blog, my brother declared that he and my father had just discussed how you cannot say anything around me anymore.  I then challenged them to tell me the last time I put anything they said on my blog.  They then made puppy eyes and indicated that they were devastated that I never talked about them.**

** Oh, but I do.

Even Mortal Enemies Can Find Common Ground. Kind of.

Chester and Jersey are mortal enemies.  Not just because they are cat and dog, but because that is how Chester staged their relationship. Unlike Mooch who just ignored her, or Brad who actively sought to play with her, Chester decided that Jersey was a threat and he was going to quash that threat immediately.  So he greeted her with a swift paw to the head and the stage was set.

Jersey is still scared of Chester despite the fact that she outweighs him by at least double.  If he lunges at her, she runs.  If he swipes at her she whimpers.  Although she is getting a bit braver in her attempts to chase him when he isn't looking, she still knows who is boss.

Usually they are nowhere near each other, but occasionally you will find them nearby with Chester keeping a watchful eye on Jersey.

They just happened to be on the same chair in my office above. I am not even sure Chester realized it at that moment. They pretend to ignore each other (or watch TV- I guess Jersey rules the remote):

You can see, though, that Chester has his paw ready to swipe.  And then he looks at Jersey like "how DARE she":

Meanwhile, Jersey doesn't seem to even notice but just goes right to sleep:

She also takes some time out to ham it up for the photographer:

How could Chester swipe at that face?

Jersey Doesn't Like Amish People. Or Horses. Or Both. It Must Be a Dog Thing.

On the drive up north to the cottage* we ended up behind a car with a handicap plate. B has a theory about driving on the freeway behind people with handicap plates, but I will leave that for another day. Perhaps a guest post? In any event, as I was contemplating how to get around this woman, B alerted me to the fact that there was an Amish buggy ahead. Sure enough, there was a horse drawn buggy. It passed in front of the woman ahead of us at which time a dog suddenly appeared out of nowhere from within her vehicle and started barking furiously. B and I laughed and wondered what would make a dog so crazay about a horse drawn buggy of Amish people as as we drove by with Jersey barely even glancing in that direction.

That is, until we had to pass another Amish buggy, this time on the road with us. As soon as we were even with the buggy, Jersey let out a ferocious growl and started barking up a storm, much to our surprise. I may have shouted out something ridiculous like "JERSEY! They are AMISH!" As if that made any sense or as if the dog could understand something that involved.

Here to illustrate is Jersey. She went from looking like this:


Such a sweet, out-of-focus, crooked face. To this:

Ferocious! Too bad she was looking at B when that shot was taken.

Then she went to this:

Where are they?

Let me at 'em.

Okay, maybe she was just trying to get some air and crush B in the process. A 45 lb dog on your lap attempting to stand? NOT comfortable. Also not comfortable? Being jolted awake on a road trip because that same 45 lb dog has climbed over the back seat and is SITTING ON YOUR SHOULDER. Good times.

After passing the second Amish buggy, I pondered about the fact that the woman was driving. B responded with:

B: Perhaps she thinks it is weird that YOU are driving.

Me: Maybe. However, I wasn't born in the 1900s when such things were unusual.

B: Um...you only spent almost your ENTIRE life in the 1900s.

Me: Huh. Whatever.

So we let Jersey take the wheel:

Isn't she a natural?

EYES ON THE ROAD JERSEY! I swear that dog is trying to kill us.

Or maybe just the Amish...

*This trip has given me a lot of material. Cottage trips more often!!

Crime Watch Wednesday - The Gift that Really Isn't a Present and Also Doesn't Require Police Intervention

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday illustrates that unwanted gifts can be a "crime" at least in the victim's eyes.

A resident called the police after her recently adopted dog brought a "gift" into her kitchen in the middle of the night. Suspecting the gift was a live mouse, she trapped it under a pan, and naturally called the police. The police responded quickly. Their investigation revealed that the mouse was actually a baby bunny. They then attempted to return the bunny near the area where they believe the dog picked it up.

And this is why I don't take the dog out to pee in the middle of the night. Also, I like my sleep. Seriously, though, I am a baby. If Jersey brought me a "gift" of a mouse I would F-REAK out! There would be screaming. There would be dancing around. More screaming. Some jumping. And then probably a silent scream. You know the one? Mouth wide open, bulging eyes, no sound. Yep. That sounds about right.

You know what WOULDN'T happen? I wouldn't call the police. Somehow it would never occur to me to call the police to deal with my rat.* Oh, I also have a husband so I would probably wake him. If I didn't have a husband, I would probably call my Dad (Hi Dad - LOVE you). Or just totally abandon my house. Hell, I have been known to abandon an entire floor of the house over a bug.

Really, though, I don't know what is worse - the fact that the woman called the police or that they called this an "investigation." What did they investigate? They looked at the "rat" and saw it was a "bunny." I hope they didn't have to take a lot of notes or interview a lot of people.

The best part though is the last part. They attempted to return the bunny to the spot they thought the dog got it from. Now how in the heck would they even begin to know that? Having my own recently adopted go, I am pretty sure if I tried to get Jersey to show me where she got a rabbit she would do one of three things (1) wag her tail while attempting to lick my face, (2) pee, (3) immediately lay down and go to sleep.

I think I'll just stay inside.

*See? I have already escalated it from a mouse to rat. I am so dramatic.