Can I Keep It?

Whew

The last couple of weeks Hud and I have been social butterflies.  Good thing he has a five day weekend coming up.  I need a rest. 

We photographed the Rhodes College graduation for one.  Went to a wedding at the Metals Museum for another.

The river is very high from all of the snow run off up north.  It's racing so fast that the barges going downstream disappeared in  a matter of minutes, while the ones travelling upstream?  Are probably still fighting the current six days later.

We went to a Gatsby Party, which was grand fun.  And my Art Deco jewelry got to go out for the evening, which it adored. Art Deco jewelry loves a good party.

Our friends, the Flowers.  Hud has known Calvin since they were babies, like sixty years.  Not being hyperbolic, even.  For reals.

We're having the house refinanced.  Zali and Simone were not impressed.  They had to go to jail for a few hours while the appraiser was here.

Muhzer! Wee are ze stressed owt!

I should have put Simone in her Thundershirt. Hud and I did Paws for a Cause a couple of weekends ago and I gave in and bought her one to ease her anxiety.  Two years ago, without warning, Simone became petrified of thunderstorms.  The slightest rumble would cause her to shake so terribly that I was afraid she'd rattle her teeth out of her head.  When I discovered her hiding behind the toilet after I got out of the shower, I knew that I had to try something.  And you know what?

EffingFunderCanBiteMe.GrowlAtSomebodyElse,AshullSky.

It works!  

The Thundershirt doesn't completely put her at ease, but during yesterday's storms, she merely panted a few times.  No shaking!  Simone even managed a nap during a particularly strong line of storms.  I may get one for Boudreaux.  Zoe didn't teach him how to catch a ball like an Olympian, but she did transfer her fear of the vacuum cleaner.

And we went to bunch and lunches with a variety of friends.  That's about enough, isn't it?

Well, there is this:

A baby Fig Parrot.  From Zooborns.com.

You are welcome.

Boudreaux Gardens

Dis whut Bou fink of fowlers.

Bou rain on dem for yew.  Help grow.  Make preety.

Yewr welcome.

Sprung

A few days ago, I headed out to the garden to do some weeding with the kids.  As I left the door and waited for them to follow, I realized that the wisteria arbor above my head was issuing a low huuuuuummmm.

Spring had errupted in my yard.  The kids set about to chasing drunken bees.

 

Over night, the arbors over the patio and at the end of the pool, look as if they are cover by a thick lavendar chenille spread.

My favorite time of the year snuck up on me.

NotMe,Mommee.IHeardDemPrickleeJerksFromInsideTheHowse!

Mon Petit Chou

Today was lovely.  A soft warm breeze, slightly overcast, quiet. Finally spring-like!

Hud and I started planting the garden yesterday, so today, the kids and I soldiered on without him.

We weeded the bed in front of the Shicken.  Simone was of great assisstance. 

You could probably tell from the dirt in her ruff that she is quite handy at hole digging.  In fact, she majored in it as a undergrad.

Boudreaux was...Boudreaux.  He splashed across the pool cover, leapt over brick walls and fencing, around the backyard, under the azaleas, over the pool deck and into the garden with a crashing stop at my hunched over body. 

Bou hab eggsellent adbenture. Gardening pffun.

It was all going very well until I turned to ask Zali how he was getting along with the weeding and discovered that he had dug up one of my newly planted cabbages!  He had chomped it down to the roots.

Whut? Eet wuz zee qualitee cuntroll, Muhzer!

Now, I knew he and Simone could not be trusted with broccoli, but cabbages?!?! Le sigh. He looks remorseful, but I had to stop him from murdering the rest of the crop, the little buggar.  That's the look of a guilty man, not a sorry one.  No wait. Guilty and sorry. That's more like it.

Time of death - 10:39.  Farewell, mon petit chou.  I hardly knew ye. 

Bou and Simone took the death seriously and decided to be on their best behavior for the remainder of the outing. Zali went up to the house, pouting.  He stayed by the back door yipping to go in.  Seems I had spoiled all his fun.  

I finished planting cucumbers, beets, bush beans and Thai eggplant.  The three of us joined him at the door when it was time to start making lunch.

A very fine spring morning, inspite of the carnage.

 

 

Long Time, No Blog

I've been crushed by commission deadlines for the past month.  I know.  It's probably bragging, rather than complaining.  Work is good.  Pets are still crazy.  Everything was humming along and then -

It turned cold. We had the boiler serviced and the pilot lit. Scintillating, I know.  But the system never fully heated and in the morning, Hud went down to check on it and the pilot had gone out.  So we had James come back.  He found a leak in a pipe, so he thought.  Hud called a contact from work who came out that day to see it.  They referred us to a heating company.  They came out and then - 

The serviceman found out the boiler reservoir had cracked.  

I know.

Game over. Scene.  Get the Fat Lady warmed up.

But we're counting our bessings.  The mechanical engineer who came out and diagosed the problem said it should have exploded when Hud and James tried to light it the second time.  Said he had seen them blow through the foundation seven or eight feet into the ground.

I know.

We've been without heat since Friday.  It's colder than a witch's hoo ha at night.  Even the dogs are snuggling up for warmth.  

Bou fink dis gud idea. Bou lyke.

Bou was shivering, despite cuddling up against Zoe.  So we covered the two of them up.

The guys just arrived to install the new one.  Twenty-first century, here we come!

Bou fink dis gud idea. Bou lyke.

Change is in the Air

Last Friday, the winds blew in a change in the weather. We awoke to temperatures in the eighties.  A full twenty degrees cooler than the average around here.  

The kids were frisky.  It hasn't been this lovely in months.  Boudreaux was all smiles.

Zoe felt better than ever.  She even insisted on going to the park with Hud and Boudreaux.

Zali wanted to go for a walk, but he settled for chasing Bou and Simone around the backyard.

Hud came out to enjoy the day, but he was so into the book, Gone Girl, that he hardly noticed it.

The toad lilies are blooming brightly after the storms.

All of the yard was heaving a sigh.  The drought is lifted.

AhThinkItSuks.It'sGettingMyBeautifulFurWet.StupitWain.

School Days

You want to know what's stressing me out more than nursing Aida back from the edge or taking Zoe to be biopsied on Wednesday?

Boudreaux is taking an obediance class.

Bou dream beeg dreams when he baby in box. He fink when he get owt dat he get to pee on fings, leef lights on, run wid scisors, put caht in mowf.  Have big fun.  No one tell Bou fambly come wid rules.  Rules bad. No fun.

First dey make Bou wear panch and now dis?

Wate.  Bou get howt dowg for doing what Daddee want?  

Bou maybe fink school not so bad.  'Cept new necklace hurt.  Daddee need to fix for Bou.

And gib him howt dowg for pointing it owt.

 Daddee T-shirt right.  Howt dowg is silver lining for fambly dream.

The Quiet One

About a week and a half ago, our poor old Zoe came up lame in her right rear leg.  She couldn't put any weight on it at all.  She was panting heavier than ususal and closely following me around.  I should have known.

Zoe didn't feel well at all.

That's the thing about Zoe.  I've never heard her whimper, even as a puppy.  She'd stumble out of the truck as a baby, shake it off, even though she landed on her head.She's never cried out loud, even though she has a booming basso profundo bark.  She never made a sound when she ran behind the studio and cut herself on some tomato cages, even though she had gutted herself.

She was about six or seven.  I let her out.  She came back inside.  All seemed normal.  Except Zoe was trailing me so closely, she posted me up at every turn.  I finally looked at her and asked what was up with her.  She looked up at me, embarrassed.  That's when I saw the little drops of blood punctuating her moves.  "What have you eaten now?" I sighed to the dog who can crack golf balls with her teeth and once ate the plastic knob off of my gear shift in the car.  I searched her mouth for the wound and found nothing.  A speck of blood dotted the floor to the left of her and I reached over to wipe it up.  It was then that I looked up and realized that I was looking inside of my dog.  A six inch gash slashed her side.  It had only cut the skin and had not punctured the fat layer so there was very little blood.  I called Hud.  He came right in and off we went to the emergency clinic.

Zoe, too big to lift, climbed into the car without a sound.  At the clinic, she laid on the floor, quietly waiting for the doctor.  All the while, silent. Calm. Stoic.

So, I really should have known. 

Hud's had to take her off running inthe last few months.  She's run to get the ball only once and carry it off to guard it.  He'd bring her home.  It's unlike her, but we chalked it up to her size and the fact that she recently turned eleven.  That's old for a big dog like Zoe.

When she couldn't set her foot down, I took her to our vet.  A dog that big has to be gassed so they can x-ray, so I waited.  Made small talk to people and ooohhhhed over their pet's boo boos.  Hud got off of work and came to wait with me.

Doctor Jo called us back, finally.  Zoe has a thinning of the bone near the ball joint of her femur.  It's either a vicious bone infection.  Or, yes, cancer.  We optimistically took the option that it's an infection. Two weeks of antibiotics and we'll go back.  See if she's progressed and if not, biopsy.  Maybe amputate.

But the good news is that Zoe seems better.  She's putting weight on the foot and has climbed the stairs three times!  I baby her, still.  But I'm hopeful that my fall-down-and-rub-some-dirt-on-it dog is getting better.

Next time, speak up Zoe!  How else is momma supposed to know?

Magical Underpants

Bou like new fambly, but they weird kinda.  Ovher day, Zali pee on chair.  So Bou pee on chair.  Mommee get mad.  Frow owtside.  Why Mommee mad?  Bou just telling Zali that chair is his now.  Fun game.

Mommee give Bou new clothes.  They panch.  Magical panch. Bou like panch.  Give him freedom.  Not tied to leash or put owtside.  Like panch.

Ugh.  The boys have started to have their pissing contest in the house.  One will mark a wall and the other will cover it.  Then a chair and the other will claim it.  I was about to take stock in white vinegar and denatured alcohol when Hud and I had lunch with our friends, Bob and Mary.  Mary owns Creature Comforts , a pet sitting service in Memphis.  So I asked her for any suggestions, since both the boys are housetrained.  This is strictly a behavioral issue.  She said to go out and buy them Belly Bands.  Who knew?  So after lunch, we high tailed it over to Hollywood Feed and bought a couple.

The band covers their man bits.  A sanitary napkin inside keeps them from being able to play their wicked little game.  Keeps their pee shooters holstered.  Their hoses housed.  You get my drift.  Boudreaux has stopped wetting his pad already.  Zali is still man enought to try to tell Bou which items he demands to own.  We're working on it.  But the house is no longer a gaming field.

If I knew the person who invented it, I'd track them down and kiss them on the lips.

Not Ze Zali!  He wood track zhem down and peece on zhem.  Tetes de merde!

Mommy's Little Helpers

Every day we like to go out to the vegetable garden and weed for about an hour. 

Bou help. Dig plants.  Mommy want Bou go in pool now?

Oy.  Boudreaux likes to take naps on the freshly weeded beds.  He has absolutely no sense of personal space.  Even less for crushing plants.

The weather's been so warm, the blackberries, peppers, cucumbers and beans have already begun to produce.  We've eaten at least ten tomatoes.  I plucked two more off today.

The eggplants have just begun to flower.  We caged them to keep them from softening Boudreaux's naps.  But the herbs are Simone's favorite place to play.  Rosemary is scratchy but the thyme is soft as a cloud, according to her.

WhatDoYouMeanYouEatThatCwap?

I never thought I'd like to hear myself say phrases like, "Boudreaux! You can't sleep on an eggplant!" Or, "Dogs don't eat marigolds!" Much less the timeless, "How many times do I have to tell you to stop jumping over me in the garden?"

Seriously.  Boudreaux has mad skills.  He's like an exotic black deer set loose in the backyard.  We have a brick wall between the driveway and the pool deck.  It's about four and a half feet on the car side and three feet tall on the pool side.  I'm walking back in when I notice his running feet coming in my direction.  I look up to see him leap the  wall, perch on top of the one brick wide decoration and gently land on the decking.  So jumping , Simone, Me or Zoe is hardly a test of his agility.

Le Sigh.