Can I Keep It?

No Snakes Allowed

My favorite jewelry usually has some sort of serpent on it.  I have an double headed Victorian enameled snake ring, a Mexican silver parure enameled in green, an intricate granulated Indian piece in the form of a bracelet, a couple of other rings and my favorite: a Georgian cobalt blue enameled snake bracelet whose articulated body is a thing of such beauty and engineering that Ialmost wept when Hud gave it to me. Yes, I collect jewelry as well as animals.  Yes, animal jewelry.  It's a theme, alright?

I refuse, however to live with a snake.  It's not the pet.  I've become acquainted with some lovely lemon pythons and an orange corn snake, but I will not allow myself to become involved.  I simply will not have a pet that has to be fed other pets.  

Perhaps that is why I unceremoniously tossed the garden snake.  I like the garden toads, too. 

Maybe Saint Patrick and I have that in common.  I'm at least part Irish.  He was not.  He was apparently a surly old dude spreading Christianity who is responsible for the symbolism of the clover as the Trinity --three parts, Father, Son and Holy Spirit on one stem, Christianity.  I think afterwards in his frustration (he was not amused by the Irish) he said, "Geeze, do ya' get it now? Come on, already!"

Like I said, he had a reputation.  Any way...

For one of his miracles to get his membership card to sainthood, he drove the snakes from Ireland.  None.  Not a one left naturally.

Maybe he took that old saying, "mean as a snake" a little too personally.

"Now, what does zis haf to do with me, Muhzer?"

"It doesn't."

"Oh, I don't sink I like it zhen."

"But it's a holiday!  With food!  Corned beef and cabbage!"

"Zhen ze Zali, he ees in eet!" 

*Erin Go Braugh, Blog! Now get out of here and have a pint for me!*

Ssssssscintillating...

I don't like spiders and snakes butthat ain't what it takes to loooove meeeee...

Yesterday was overcast, but not spitting sprinkles of rain so the Hudarosa Clan headed to the back forty to plow some shares of the vegetable garden.  Zali sat on the knee wall of pansies surveying the work and Simone was doing something naughty in the corner by the day lilies.  I never did figure out what she was up to, but each time I went over to find out; this is the look she shot me.

My guess is she was eating earthworms.  The chick digs them.  Zali says that they are reminiscent of escargot.  I am not testing the theory.

As I resumed my position on the milk crate, weeding the thyme, I was struck by a moist object from the sky.  "Oh, no, it's starting to rain," I surmised.  Again, with the wetness.  "Hee Hee!"  Hud chortled under his breath.  The naughtiness was contagious, it seems.

He was flinging big fat worms on me.  Now, I'm not afraid of an earthworm.  I'm not one of those squealy girls who freak out at arachnids and beetles and the like.  I pet bees, remember?  But the thought of one of those getting in my hair and burrowing around gives me the heebies and makes me want to do the crazy flailing arms icky dance.  What if they bored into my skull and ate my brain?  Okay.  No more Sci-Fi programs for me.

It reminded me of last Summer.  Hud was out of town.  I was weeding the tomato plants. We had placed blocking material to cover most of the bed, but those deviant suckers planted themselves anywhere the edges didn't meet the box.  Their survival instinct is strong, I tell you.  So I'm happily plucking, minding my own bee's wax, when I reach under the fabric and pull out an enormous worm.  It was ten inches long with beady eyes.  Wait, I wondered, my thoughts getting up to speed, EARTHWORMS DON"T HAVE EYES. 

I dropped it and shrieked like a five year old.  The giant serpent gave me the stink eye and slithered back under the tomato cover.  A couple of frogs hopped out, throwing me a very disdainful gaze.

I should have flung th beast into the churchyard. I'm afraid I was so startled by it however, that I would have thrown it so far that it would have gone clear back to the Old Testament. Researching Adam and Eve and you could have found it there, looking shell shocked and offering the two of them an apple.  I'm pretty strong for a woman and was pretty freaked out for a girl. 

Zali was contemplating the effect of gamma rays on Man in the Moon Marigolds.  Simone tried to ask what had happened but her mouth was full of worms.

I lived to weed another day.  The jury is still out on the worm flinging Hud.

Random Acts of Photography

This just sent to me by a concerned reader.  If you have children and one of the "dangerous dog breeds", don't leave them alone for a second or this may occur...

Ohhhhh, the horror!  THE HORROR!

Smelly Cat

It has rained for two days as a big pressure system rolls through the Mid-South.  Rain is a problem for Aida.  Well, more of a problem for the rest of the Hudarosa clan.  The rain leaves Aida's moods a bit mercurial.

By "mercurial" I mean a raving, maniacal, crazy pair of razor sharp fangs and claws one minute and a sweet, needy, sappy love starved furry mess the next.  Heavy on the lunatic part.

The heavier the pressure system, the more erratic her behavior becomes.  The nerve damage in her tail end is the cause for this, I suspect.  Having nerve damage to my elbow, I suffer from a strange buzzing sensation whenever it gets wet outside.  It's happened for nearly twenty years now, but I've never completely gotten used to it.  I'm guessing Aida has a similar feeling, only in her derriere.  Pauvre Aida!  (Okay.  Francais is the theme this week thanks to Zali.)

Zali and Simone play a game with Aida.  She peeps around the corner and they tear after her.  The whirlwind of ten pound beasts crash through the house, running under tables and leaping up and down the staircase, until Aida grows tired and jumps on a chair, outwitting the Pappies.  They search for her, until one of them grows too close.  She'll tap the unsuspecting pup on the noggin and the hilarity resumes.  Repeat until exhaustion.

At least that is how the game goes until rain enters the picture.  She'll peep around the corner.  Zali and Simone run after her, barking and baying.  Aida sits there.  Her ears flatten.  Zali and Simone brake hard, sliding across the wood floors.  Aida's eyes narrow.  Zali and Simone race to get away, legs moving in circles on the slippery floor.  Aida swats Simone on the tush.  Zali peers at her from another room, shaking.  They have learned to respect Rainy Day Growly Dog's attitude. 

Aida sashays back to her room.  Zali and Simone huddle against me for the rest of the day.  Pauvre Zali!  Pauvre Simone!

I have worse problems than they do.  Needy Rainy day Aida often desires a cuddle and insists on sitting in my lap.  Aside from the bipolar disorder, she gets a little stinky.  The "catulence" wafts about her in a funky green cloud.  It makes my eyes water and burns my nose. 

I wish she'd just scratch me.  I could get over that.  Pauvre Furry G!

Self Absorbed

Zali has decided to take up writing.  As he is digitally challenged by the absence of thumbs, he has asked ze Fahzur to be his ghost.

He would have asked ze Muzher to type it out for him, but he needs his muse to gather snacks upon request and to make available her lap to elevate him to the level of the computer screen.  Besides, he may tell secrets of the Hudarosa and ze Muhzer, she may try to edit the juicy bits.  Ze Fazhur will not be paying attention.  He will simultaniously be transferring the manuscript while killing fish on "Squelchies".  He's a clever man, ze Fahzur, if a might distracted.

What to write about, what to write about?  That has been the topic of discussion for several days.  Should it be an exciting tell all expose of Zali, World Famous Secret Spy?  The tender, tragic biography of Zali, an expatriate debonair socialite who conquers the states and leaves a trail of lovers?  No, wait!  "Ah Ahm, Zerfore, I Eet It!", a coffee table picture book of the meals Zali has sneaked off the tables of fine restaurants around the world.  Extra focus on photos of CAKE.

As his muse, I have suggested that he write, "I Recognize the Dog in You, Namaste", the philosophy of viewing the world from a lap.

Zali smiled gently as he told me that he was the author and and was the muse.  I explained to him that being a muse was to inspire the artiste.  He looked startled.

"Mon Dieu! Ah sought eet was Greek for "Geet me a sandweech"."

 

Just Pick One or the Other, Please!

Mother Nature?  Simone would like to request a program for the duration of this season.  She's having trouble keeping up with the score this Spring.   You see, it's all moving rather rapidly and she's a girl who has trouble with focus.  Last week, she ran outside for a quick pee and was assaulted by icy flakes of frozen precipitation.

The Furry G attempted to take a few glamor shots by the pool, but when she called out to Simone, the poor little thing couldn't keep her eyes open.  Simone does not take kindly to items falling into her eyes or on her ears.  She says it's "bourgeois".  Zali is expanding her vocabulary, en francais. 

Now the gardens got right back up to speed after the six inches we got last week, partly due to the extreme temperature bump we got this week.  It was in the upper seventies today.  The windows are open and it's hot.   Yes, Zali, "tres chaud, tres chaud".  I got it.  Very dramatic I might add, with the panting and the lying on your back, paw draped over your forehead.  You are NOT having a heat stroke.

"PlusFroid!"

No, Simone, I cannot make it cold again.  It's too early to turn on the air conditioner.  No, I do not know Mother Nature personally, so I cannot ask her.  The vegetable garden is happier with this weather.  Yes, the broccoli liked being blanketed by the snow.  Oh, why did he ever teach you to speak French?

"PlusFroid!PlusFroid!PlusFroid!MaintenantPlusFroid!"

Zali?  May I speak to you?  En francais, s'il vous plait?

 

Random Acts of Photography

The snow is gone and Spring sproinged right out from under it, as if nothing happened...

   

Crazy, mixed up, silly Spring!

Ollie, Ollie, Oksenfree! (A Cautionary Tale)

Several years ago, in the time before Zali (b.z.) Hud was out in the Old Forrest running the energy off of Zoe.  Carmen was checking her pee mail.  It was in the wee hours of the morning, very dark, when they were joined by a stranger in a straggly coat.

"Where'd you come from, young man?" Hud inquired.  There was no reply, but the young fellow followed them throughout their routine and asked for a ride when they came to a stopping point.  Hud did not see that the kid was accompanied by any adult and brought him home to Schyterbolle.

"Who is that?" asked the Furry Godmother.  Hud shrugged.  The Stranger ordered a sandwich and took up residence in the kitchen.

Later in the day, a client came by to have some ceiling fans photographed.  She was introduced to the Stranger and asked his name.  "We don't know," came the reply.  We brain stormed.  "How's about Oliver Klausoff?" Cory said.

"Ollie it is!" declared the Furry G to the delight of everyone.

Ollie was not a good fit for Schyterbolle.  They tried and tried, but Ollie could not get comfortable.  The cottage was a way station.  His real family was out there.  He had dreamed of them.

In the next few days, another park friend saw Hud and his new charge on their daily constitution.  She smiled wistfully and said she wished she had taken him when she found him.  They struck a deal.  Ollie adored her and he went to spend the night. 

He has never been back to Schyterbolle.  Ollie had found his home.

A month later, Ollie and his family were frolicking in the park when a young child cried out, "Look, Mommy!  There's Fluffy!"  The child's family approached and stuck up a conversation with Ollie's new mom.  She was afraid they would want him back. To her surprise, they did not.

Ollie had grown too large for them, they explained and had left him in the woods hoping that some person would find him and adopt him.  The horrified mother of Ollie, scooped him up and left the park.  She was furious.

You see, under the arm of mother of the family that abandoned Ollie in the woods to be rescued, starved or eaten by coyotes, was a small, fragile, new, little puppy.

We are all worried that he was disposable, too.

*Ollie is thriving with his family and growing old in the comfort of reciprocal love and devotion. Unfortunately, the fate of the other puppy remains unknown.  Tennessee is trying to pass a mandatory spay/ neuter program.  Let's all try to pass this in EVERY state.*

 

 

Somebody Stop Me!

Please forgive me Zooborns for I have sinned.  I could not help myself.  I've kept this in my mailbox for days, coveting the cuteness.  Behold the Fennec Fox in all his glory:

What's Cuter than a Fennec Fox? Posted: 25 Feb 2009 05:29 PM PST Trick question - nothing! This little guy was born at the Everland Zoo in South Korea in September of 2008.  Nocturnal hunters, fennec foxes detect tasty insects and small rodents with their ridiculously oversized ears.    And then, I DIED.  DIED FROM THE CUTENESS.  Ooooooh, the cuteness that is infant Fennec Fox! You simply must visit this site:  www.zooborns.typepad.com but be prepared to visit your dentist afterwards because it had been known to cause tooth decay.   I'm sorry I pinched your fox, Zooborns.  I've always found it easier to get forgiveness than permission.   So very sorry.   Both Zali and Simone are dying of envy over those fabulous ears.  DYING I TELL YOU...

 

Snuggle Buddies

It's time I posted a picture or two of the world's oldest living hamster couple, Honey Dew and Heneeda Dew.

Geeze!  You practically burst my eardrums with the collective awwwwwing!  Heneeda is on the left.  He's named after the title of my favorite hair salon in New Orleans.  It's actually, "Sheneedadoo" but we discovered he was a guy after impregnating Honey and her sister, "Whoopty Dew".  Ooops. He's one hot hammie diggety dawg.  Heneeda was always a great dad though, taking the kids to school and teaching them to ride bikes and such. 

I was always terrible about wanting to get my hands on the tiny pink babies the second it was safe to do so and Heneeda was the one who would gently lift them from my hands and cart them back to the nest.  Honestly, the girls could have cared less.  Between the two of them in those first two litters, they had eighteen children.  It was probably the exhaustion.

Whoopty has long since passed, which has made the Dew Home a far more peaceful place to live.  You could hear Whoopty and Honey fussing from the other bedrooms.  At first, I thought they were fighting over shoes and handbags, but that was before we had unearthed Heneeda's little secret.  The two of them rowed all the time over that man!  It was Jerry Springer Hamster Style.  And it only got worse after they had all the kids.  I never knew who's were whose because they spent most of the evening stealing each other's spawn.  In the morning I would find one or the other sound asleep on a giant pile  of writhing pups and divide them. 

Now that Whoopty is gone and Honey has him all to herself, they spend their nights spooning in their cottage in my office.  They are far too old to procreate, now that they are entering their fifth year.  That's right, fifth year!  The average life span of a Dwarf hamster is two to three years, but Honey waited so long, she's not giving him up expediently.

That Heneeda is da man!