So the last couple of mornings I have woken up (that's good) and my eyes would fall on this poster of John Lennon. And all of a sudden it dawned on me that I have actually outlived him. I am 45 and he had just turned 40 when he died, maybe I should get past this idolization. Imagining there is no heaven is no fun for than I would never get a chance to talk to the dude. Remembering when I heard a song called Nobody told me: "always something happening and nothing going on". Strange days indeed. ( youtube that one!)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBCdlBrgEmE
Got a call last night, (and just to sketch the setting, earlier in the day I had purchased a quart of topnotch white lighting, corn alcohol with at least 60 percent alcohol as evidenced by the contractions in my esophagus and the blue flame after I lit my glass on fire) some woman had heard that I was lonesome and dogless and she had two she couldn't afford to feed. So I went by there this morning, after she called me to remind me of my commitment, and next thing you know I was really smart and turned down the really cute pitbull, called Pede. One bunk of muscle and slobber on a chain, really cute with no ears. Then I did something really dumb and drove off with this Malemut Alaskan homp of hairy dog in the back of my station wagon. Romeo. He is salivating so badly and stinking so badly he clogs up the airco in the car and I have to gag out of the window. He has about half the brain of soks. When you say sit he lays down, when you call Romeo he runs away. Definitely top notch dog, going to fit right in. Stopped at Gails, to show off my new life partner, she thought he was cool and ok'ed the unleashment, and then he was gone. We walked back to the house and there he was, ferociously digging a hole to bury the chicken that he had just snatched. Took him by Dylan in Hermann, and he said: nice dog, let her roam, sure she roamed, so two glasses of wine a tank of gas later we found him. Got home, tethered him, especially after he had gotten another chicken, and that didn't last long because he pulled so hard that he almost pulled the post of the back porch out and downstroyed the roof. He was not able to move the combine, yet. Tater, the orange cat is the only one that can deal with this dog. He actually thinks this new thing is a nifty purchase that is there for his pleasure. So you got this red tutored tomcat that is trying to bat this dog that is 10 times as big, back and forth like a mouse in a pinball machine. I am not gonna let this dog in the house, and right now I feel like Brittney Spears feels about the papparazzi, I have all three doors in the house barricaded, and this stalker outside ramming the doors. I took him for a walk around the perimeter of the property. It was great, I had never water skied before, and especially through swampy mud waters, whoa whoa whoa, slow down partner, and he turns it up another notch. Another error, don't leave the door of your car open when it thunders and lightens, and you have a scared dog on your property, guess he'll go to work with me tomorrow. I should have gotten the chiuaua (sp?. tried it 6 different ways, how do you spell chiwawa?) Oh I forgot, this is a farm blog. Except there is nothing to farm. Well, it's been a great year with regards to weeding, it has been so wet that I have yet to touch a hoe. My ex boss from NRCS came by and dropped off a bunch a chickens that qualify for historic plates. They are in the same ball park intelligence as Romeo (-13) so I had a hell of a time getting them in the coup tonight. Got me some food to keep em alive, which reminds me of my mother who went to the vet one time to only have her be told by a smirking vet, why don't you just get a new chicken, that is cheaper than what I will charge you? Anyway, Romeo got one of those, so at least I don't have to feed him tonight. Always something happening and nothing going on.
1 Comment
Another Susan
6/18/2011 03:25:48 pm
Chihuahua... and this sounds like a great new dog you have. Should provide for lots of good blog stories.
Reply
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorPieter Los, born in Scotland, raised in the Netherlands, lost in the USA. . Archives
May 2015
Categories |