Can I Keep It?

Hanging in There

Last week, we almost put Carmen down.

I know.

But she could hardly walk.  Looked dazed.  She kept wetting herself.  It was heartbreaking.  But Monday morning, she had gotten up by herself and waited for me to let her outside.  She was terribly unsteady.  I stood beside her so she could lean on me.

I told Hud. Neither of us are willing to let her go, it seems.  So that night we trimmed her once luxurious fur and gave her a warm bath.  I didn't want to do it by myself.  She'd never been in the tub and I was afraid it might frighten her.

Was I ever wrong.  She loved it! Carmen laid in the tub and let me massage her stiff legs.  After, we dried her and Hud placed her on her bed in the den.  I covered her with two thick towels to keep her warm.  She slept the whole night for the first time in months.

And in the morning, got up on her own.  A little wobbly, she hopped down the stairs to go outside completely unassisted. The water changed her.  She practically ran to me when I called for her to come back inside.

So, like our other old lady, Aida, she's still hanging in there.

Only far less cranky about the aging process.

 

All That Glitters

YUCK!

She looks so precious.  Like she'd eat rainbows and poop butterflies.  But Simone has an addiction.  It's not pretty.

Simone is coprophagic.

Poop.  Simone loves a good Tootsie Poo snack.

YUCK.

We've been struggling with it all week.  Several days ago, I caught her noshing one on the dog bed by Ruby's cage.  Told her she was bad.  Made her spit it out.  She was horrified that she had displeased me.  I thought it was over. She never gets reprimanded.

Yesterday, I'm on the computer and she runs up to me.  Full body wiggle she was so very pleased with herself.  She rubbed against my leg.  I reached down to pet her and that's when I was handed a big blob of cat poop.

YUCK.

What?IDidn'tEatIt,Dammit.IGaveItToYou.Didn'tYouWantIt?

More scolding.  She was pleased because she brought it to me rather than eating it. I guess since i picked it up and took it from her, she thought I wanted it.

YUCK.

So today, I'm at the computer.  Aida's on my lap.  Simone comes into the room and full body waggling, rubs my leg.  I pat her back.  And then it hits me.  I gaze down to see a giant desiccated pretzel of cat feces in her mouth.  She drops it into the tissue I hurriedly retrieve.  Plops her butt on the hardwood.  Beaming.

YUCK!

I think I need a refresher in my dog whispering.

 

Gratuitous Shot of Simone

More evidence of Simone's nesting instincts.

All of that to make a nine pound dog comfortable.  Trust me that there are panties underneath her.  *Sigh*

Mona's Creole Cuisine

This year, we celebrated Mona's Creole Cuisine for the Mona Lisa and Moon Pie Krewe parade in Slidell.  I cheated a bit and recycled last year's frog outfits.  We went as frog legs.  I stitched together a couple of pairs of legs for us to carry.  I wish I could have found a wheel chair to push us around in, but alas, that didn't pan out. Charlotte decorated a stroller for us that had a huge plate, knife and fork.  And a ginormous fly for us to eat!

I wasn't the only cheater. Charlotte's son Lowry, repackaged his nutria costume as nutria stew.

He had a giant pot around him for the walk painted with flames.

Charlotte's nephew, Christopher, is a chef.  He runs Christopher's on Cary across the street from the Arcade where we have the Red Beans and Rice Ball after.  His costume, as well as his parents' (Brenda and John) costumes, were a given.

Brenda's Moon Pie cart was tarted up like a dining table.

And Charlotte was a fabulous blue crab.

Charlotte's friends, Addy and Amy went as Wild Rice.

While Amy's dad travelled on his Hov-a-round as a crawfish.

The back of his chair was made up like the shell of the crustacean.  Really cute!

This was the Cereal Killers Krewe.

Of course, they were all properly outfitted as the cartoon characters from the box illustrations.  There was even a Capt'n Crunch, but we failed to bring batteries for the camera.  Waa-wa.

Always dark when we begin, the Flabeaux light our way. Lowry's buds comprised the majority of the torch bearers.

Moon Pie! MOON Pie! MOOOOON PIIIEEEEE!!!  Is still ringing in my ears.

It poured rain all day.  Fifteen minutes before we lined up?  It vanished, leaving a cool night for tossing Moon Pies to the cheering crowds. 

Can't wait until next year!

 

Lunatics Running the Asylum

Yesterday, Hud and I returned from our annual trip to Slidell, LA to walk withthe Krewe of Mona Lisa and Moon Pies.  Again, a fabulous time was had by one and all.

However, while the cat was away, the mice were at play.

Phhhhtttt. I was here the whole time, Mother.  Pooping on the puppy pads.  Whatever do you meeeeeeen?

It was a metaphor for us, Aida.  Not you.  Nevermind.

After many kisses and hugs, we all trudged up the stairs with ten bajillion pieces of luggage.  Seriously.  I wish I were the girl who could toss a lip gloss and a an extra t-shirt in a bag and go jetting off for the weekend.  So, if you saw what we carried in the Mustang to Slidell, you'd understand that ten bajillion is not hyperbole.  We stopped when there was only room for our bodies to squeeze into the seats.

I dragged my make-up case into the bedroom and saw this:

Someone had been sleeping in our bed.

It'sMyBedToo,Asshole.IMadeItPerfect.YourWaySucks.

Simone immediately jumped in and scooted her face on the covers to show me how she got the perfect fold to snuggle against.

On her dad's side of the bed she sleeps on the covers with her head gently resting on a pillow.  On my side, she sleeps on the pillows.  They were a jumbled I-240 pile up of a car wreck on my side.

It couldn't have been Carmen.  Her days of coming upstairs are over.  She was passed out in her food dish in the den.

Zoe can't drag all of her muscles up that far. The bed is thirty-four inches tall.

It had to be Simone.  She's the only one who can get on the bed.  Pauvre Zali is too, um, portly to scale the massive height.  He has to sleep on a dog GOD bed when we travel.  He was whining to get up.  Who could blame him?  I lifted him up.

Sooooo very tired, Muzher.  NotMe,Dammit!I'mWeddyToWumble!

She had even pulled over my hoodie to nap and roll around in.  I went down the hall to the dressing room only to discover more carnage from Simone Buhler's Day Off.

Simone had gotten in the laundry and spread it all over the room.  I found panties in my shoes.

Daddee!Dad!Dad!DADDEE!DidYouSeeIDidTheLaundry,Dammit?DidYouSee?

ItStunkedLikeYouSoISpweadItAllOverToPweetendYouWereHere!ItGame!MeSmart,Wight?

Sigh. 

I wish I could teach her to pick up the house while I'm gone.  A maid I could use.  This? Not so much.