The truth about cats and dogs:
Mar. 6th, 2010 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogThey're both idiots.
Here's how my alleged Day Off started:
I feed the aminals on the weekends, morning and night, and they become downright ruthless anywhere between 5:30 and 5:45, between incessant whining, stupid species tricks (from Tazzer biting my toes to Ebony licking my face) and, worst of all, outright vandalism. Our middle-child cat, Michelle, gets downright destructive if her initial meows and headbutts don't do the job: she marches up to the top shelf of my bookcase and knocks stuff around.
This morning, as I was actually getting out of bed to do the deed, something must've spooked her (probably the dogs beginning their dance of joy the second they hear the bedsheets move a millimeter), and she proceeded to bowl most of the contents of the shelf to the ground. My alarm clock was in (seemingly reparable) pieces, there's a check deposit stamp I STILL haven't found, but closest to my heart was her violent murder of two baseball players, the only two bobbleheads I own:
Both of these came from Bisons games, Darryl's from a year ago as part of the "celebration" of the new affiliation of our local team with the Mets, the Wakefield one more of a retrospective of his days in the 90s playing here, long before his more recent success with the Red Sox.
I was crushed when I saw the damage. Michelle knew I was so angry, she wouldn't come within 10 feet of me (except to be fed, of course) for hours after the incident. Ultimately, though, I realized that we could rebuild them- we have the technology (or at least two artists in the house who know how to glue stuff).
My best guess, from the trajectory of the parts, is that Michelle jumped off the shelf, knocked over Strawberry, who in turn whacked Wakefield before they both toppled to the ground.
As Roger Angell once noted about an infamous late-80s Met moment when Daryl got into a fistfight with Keith Hernandez in spring training, if my morning accident was caused by Straw knocking over Timmy, it would be only the second time in his career that Darryl managed to hit the cutoff man.
-----
Somehow after all that, I got back to sleep, but not for long:
Tasha started a massive round of barking from out back, and within seconds, Emily figured out the cause. She ran to the back door and started screaming at the dog to come in, because there, a kitty-corner yard away, was a tail-up skunk pointing right at Tasha.
The dog took her sweet time coming in- she looked to be more in curious mode than attack formation- and ultimately, she caught little if any of Pepe's anger.
I'm all for signs of spring, but I think I prefer robins and exhibition baseball games to noxious fumes.
----
Despite those stinky starts, the day's been beautiful. In looking for missing player pieces and the still-missing deposit stamp, I cleaned the shit out of my office area and it looks tons better. Thanks in large part to having something awesome to read there, I've actually made it to the gym three days in a row, making up for months of indiscretion, and I'm finishing the book now, of which more will be said in due course.
Best of all, if the cat knocks it off the back of the sofa, it won't break into a million chapters.
Here's how my alleged Day Off started:
I feed the aminals on the weekends, morning and night, and they become downright ruthless anywhere between 5:30 and 5:45, between incessant whining, stupid species tricks (from Tazzer biting my toes to Ebony licking my face) and, worst of all, outright vandalism. Our middle-child cat, Michelle, gets downright destructive if her initial meows and headbutts don't do the job: she marches up to the top shelf of my bookcase and knocks stuff around.
This morning, as I was actually getting out of bed to do the deed, something must've spooked her (probably the dogs beginning their dance of joy the second they hear the bedsheets move a millimeter), and she proceeded to bowl most of the contents of the shelf to the ground. My alarm clock was in (seemingly reparable) pieces, there's a check deposit stamp I STILL haven't found, but closest to my heart was her violent murder of two baseball players, the only two bobbleheads I own:
Both of these came from Bisons games, Darryl's from a year ago as part of the "celebration" of the new affiliation of our local team with the Mets, the Wakefield one more of a retrospective of his days in the 90s playing here, long before his more recent success with the Red Sox.
I was crushed when I saw the damage. Michelle knew I was so angry, she wouldn't come within 10 feet of me (except to be fed, of course) for hours after the incident. Ultimately, though, I realized that we could rebuild them- we have the technology (or at least two artists in the house who know how to glue stuff).
My best guess, from the trajectory of the parts, is that Michelle jumped off the shelf, knocked over Strawberry, who in turn whacked Wakefield before they both toppled to the ground.
As Roger Angell once noted about an infamous late-80s Met moment when Daryl got into a fistfight with Keith Hernandez in spring training, if my morning accident was caused by Straw knocking over Timmy, it would be only the second time in his career that Darryl managed to hit the cutoff man.
-----
Somehow after all that, I got back to sleep, but not for long:
Tasha started a massive round of barking from out back, and within seconds, Emily figured out the cause. She ran to the back door and started screaming at the dog to come in, because there, a kitty-corner yard away, was a tail-up skunk pointing right at Tasha.
The dog took her sweet time coming in- she looked to be more in curious mode than attack formation- and ultimately, she caught little if any of Pepe's anger.
I'm all for signs of spring, but I think I prefer robins and exhibition baseball games to noxious fumes.
----
Despite those stinky starts, the day's been beautiful. In looking for missing player pieces and the still-missing deposit stamp, I cleaned the shit out of my office area and it looks tons better. Thanks in large part to having something awesome to read there, I've actually made it to the gym three days in a row, making up for months of indiscretion, and I'm finishing the book now, of which more will be said in due course.
Best of all, if the cat knocks it off the back of the sofa, it won't break into a million chapters.
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Date: 2010-03-06 10:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-06 11:13 pm (UTC)