Category Archives: Butters the dog

Musings from the Laundromat: nothing special edition

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I’m still working on my ‘controversial’ piece – so I find myself at the laundromat with no topic today.

I have a composition notebook with pages of scribbles and thoughts, sources and notes (I will sometimes handwrite my  posts and type them out later) but have yet to complete the work.

I will confess that yesterday, with all my ‘to-do’ items staring me in the face, I ended up ‘to-do’ing nothing.  And it was delightful.

I watched the silliest thriller/horror movie – ‘The Sacrament’.  Acting was pretty good so I stuck with it, then realized 10 minutes in that it was a direct ripoff of the Jonestown events.

Even ended with the ‘Father’ (in sunglasses and with a drug habit) calling his flock to the ‘special’ punch.  *sigh*  This was after a helicopter pilot was shot and a note was passed to journalists saying ‘help us”.

How do you pass that off as an original movie?

Still, I had invested those first 10 minutes, I had to see it through.

I apply that in most all areas of my life – if I have invested time in something, I see it through.

Which means today I do the ‘to do’ items and the bath I considered giving Butters is a definite since I spilled some of my coffee on her.  In my defense, she’s known me a while and should be wary when I’m carrying ‘spillables’.

But wary she was not, and underfoot she was and so – to the tub i go after trying not to emit ‘bath time’ vibes and hauling her 70 pound wriggling manatee body into the bathroom.

I’ll set a timer for my chores – because I plan to be horizontal a lot today too – don’t want to get too carried away (like Butters will be in a few minutes).

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Sunday snapping Butters

Butters – my canine manatee and I had a quiet day inside.   Too hot to be out, chores done.  Both still – on our opposing couches.

I took the first photo of her on my ipad – her face mirroring my own boredom.

When I decided to get my ‘real’ camera out – she took off immediately, as she usually does, not wanting anything to do with it.

Then she  came back  – and was uncharacteristically cooperative.  Toward the end of the ‘photo session’ she seemed to be posing for me – allowing me to lay on the ground, zooming in on her, clicking away as she stayed still.

I give you some of our moments.

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Cicada belts and Butter whines

 

I had the Happy Day’s theme song playing in my head this morning – not for any nostalgic reasons – and I re-worked the lyrics to a little something like this:

“One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock F@&%!”

The first time I was summoned from sleep by my whining manatee was one a.m. precisely.

I slowly peeled my eyes open to the dim sight of Butters a mere inch away from my head.

She’s pretty patient when it comes to waiting for me to struggle out of bed and shuffle towards the front door.

Pretty patient for such a whining, antsy, slumber saboteur.

At the door I heard the most annoying noise.

Loud – squealing – chirping.

I’m trying NOT to wake up completely, so I’m only using a portion of my faculties on purpose – I did manage to wonder if maybe a cicada was right outside?

Did I want it inside? No.

Did I have the energy to care? No.

Then I thought it sounded like a small car malfunctioning fan belt.

Did I want a small car inside? No.

Did I have the energy to care? No.

Out the dog went without the introduction of either cicada, or small car into my humble abode.

Back to bed I went, without any concern for the open front door.

Next time I’ll just hang little welcome signs up for any scorpions or sun spiders and any other nocturnal creepy crawly hard shelled nightmares.

 

Ooo! Here we have a sun spider actually eating a cicada.

Ooo! Here we have a sun spider actually eating a cicada.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As far as I know, the only creature that entered the house after I stomped back to my bed was of the 4 legged variety.

I know this because approximately an hour later, said 4 legged creature wanted back outside.

1. Whine.

2. Stare.

3. Come within inch of human.

4. Whine again.

5. Repeat.

Almost e v e r y hour on the hour.

This morning – as Butters somehow managed her 5:30 a.m. wake up call after her restless night, I discovered the source of both the noise, and what must have bugging my insomni-pup.

The neighbors.

Not directly them this time – but their air conditioning unit.

As I stood on the porch with my coffee I heard the screech and whine of a slipping belt coming from it.

Wonderful.

I hope it doesn’t break completely – as the Fonz and I wouldn’t want them not being ‘cool’.

Correction!: Okay, OKAY!!!  As a testament to how tired I am – I will tell you that I only NOW realized, after publishing,  that the song in my head was not the Happy Days theme song at all – but this one.  Jeez.

I’m not changing it though – because then I’ll lose my whole Fonz/Cool thing.  Ayyyy!

I need sleep.

 

 

Musings from the Laundromat: Friends & Change edition

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I’m musing on my notepad since the internet connection is not connecting at the laundromat.

I was thinking on the way over, of change.

It’s amazing sometimes isn’t it, when we look back over the years, sometimes months or even just days and think ‘If I knew then that things would be so different now …”

Then what?

Nothing, that’s what.

You’d end up changing the outcome by knowing what it was supposed to be.

That whole seeing into the future thing is not a good idea.

If you knew a job wasn’t going to work out – you might quit before learning a valuable skill you needed for later.

If you knew a relationship wasn’t going to end up being your ‘forever after’, you might abandon it before experiencing new emotions, or becoming stronger for having made mistakes.

A song was on the radio in the car and it reminded me of someone.

I think about exes from time to time – then I segue off onto wondering if I ever cross their minds.

I hope I do.

They all meant something to me and always will.

So back to change …

Since the start of the year I have now been in 3 different jobs, gone from not knowing what life would be like without the constant that is my son, to living alone lately.

The thing that hasn’t changed, and rarely does, are the friends I have.

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I was surprised to hear a friend was coming to town that I usually only see once a year, usually Christmas time.  It was literally Christmas in July to get to see her for dinner Sunday night!

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On the heels of ‘friend Sunday’ came ‘inevitable Monday’ and a pretty rough week.

Work is amazing, I love my new position.

The logo I created was delivered and stuck to our freshly painted red wall … I remember the first time I was published and seeing the paper – yeah, it was a little like that.

I’m blurring so much here – but want you to see the logo at least.  I assure you, the wall does not look like a horrid smudge of letters.

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We’re still figuring out procedures and I’m still on a crash course of figuring out how to do what I do. This I have no problem with. I adapt. I learn quickly, that was no lie on my resume.

My forte is creation. Creation, progression and completion.  Love it.

Needless to say though, even a whole day doing your favorite things can be exhausting.

I found myself coming home and sitting on the couch in a hyper-minded/numb-bodied state every evening.

On top of the exhilarating chaos that is the birth of a new company, we had ‘sabotage day’ or ‘Cablegate’ as I am thinking of it now.

Our suite connects to the old company we all worked for. It was sadly closing while we were opening. A very emotional thing to watch.

I get attached to people and routines. After 3 1/2 years, to see the people I care about slowly leaving, while an office that once thrived emptied to nothing but a shell – well, it wasn’t pleasant to say the least.

Our office parties, the holidays we shared, the smell of Thanksgiving turkey, the sounds of laughter – phones ringing, microwaves beeping, deliveries arriving – the hustle and bustle, Gone.

All gone now.

It was down to just the Broker this past week – and a trickling of agents bringing out the last of the items going with them.

One morning I arrived to the news that the keys to the mail box were missing and all the drawers had been left open.

Did I know where they were? No, I did not.

Also the internet was down.

No problem, I told the Broker  he could use our WIFI, I would give him the code.

I finally made it into our suite only to discover that our internet was not working either … nor our phones.

The utility closet that houses the cables and technical ‘things’ is located in the old office.

And it was locked.

And that key shared the key chain that had gone missing.

A locksmith was called out and after summoning the internet technicians out too, the long and short of it is that someone had come in the night and left a final ‘F-you!’ for us.  (Yes, we have a very good idea who it was – no, we have no proof)

Equipment lay on the floor of the closet and various pieces hung from the wall.  Then, discovered hidden in the ceiling, the recently cut wires that connected our suite to the outside world.

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The police were called – locks were changed and a temporary fix was made to attach cables to the frayed ends of the severed ones.

Sabotage.

A lot of talk about karma came up.  I’m of the mind that anyone angry enough or capable of such a crime already has to live with themselves.

We were back up and running and were not going to let that set-back have anymore power (or lack of) over us than it deserved.

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Friday arrived and I was ready for a relaxing weekend.

I climbed out of my car, came through my gate and opened the front door.

And was greeted by – silence.

Butters was nowhere to be seen – or heard.  And trust me, my hairy manatee is an excitable girl.  She wriggles and whines and leaps at my return.

I had locked the door so she couldn’t be out?

Then slowly, a small noise and as I set my purse down, she limped out of my bedroom.

She hadn’t eaten – hadn’t taken a drink from her water bowl.  Her tail hung between her legs and she moved gingerly.

I dropped to the floor beside her and started an examination – and to my horror, she let me.

I’ll try to describe her exuberance … I can’t get a leash on her in any time under 20 minutes.  Trying to get her to stay still for her collar after a bath is like trying to hold back a herd of children at the Disneyland gates.

And she lay there – letting me probe between her pads for burrs – press her leg to test for warmth or tender spots.

I could see nothing out of the usual.

She then left me to lay in the bathroom.  Not limping.  (Perhaps she had just been laying awkwardly on it before I got home?)  Now she was listless, shivering and unmoving.

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I checked her ears, her eyes, her gums, her stomach …  all the while wondering “What will I do? How will I afford to get her care??”  And telling her – “Don’t you leave me.”

My eyes welled with tears as I reached out to the online community for ideas.

My friend that ‘always knows when to show up’ threw some clothes on and abandoned her Friday night after her own long week, and headed over to be with us.

Butters perked up a little.

“Maybe she’s depressed.” Said my friend.

She had a point.

Life as she had known it had changed too.

From having the run of the yard all day to being shut indoors – and the absence of her boy.  Big changes for a little canine world.

Perhaps she was just depressed.

By the time my friend left, she seemed to have perked up.  I stayed up with her until after 1 a.m. to be sure.

The next morning she was herself again.

Just like that!

I quickly went to the grocery store returning with lots of dog treats – cleaned the house and just as I finished Butters barked at the front door.  (Music to my ears to hear her vocalize by the way.)

In walked my friend holding coffee and polystyrene boxes.

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“I brought brunch.”

We sat across from each other and shared half of each box.  Butters was treated to some bacon.

“My heart is smiling at my stomach right now,” I said.  “This is right up there – top 10 happiest moments.”

And it was.

My dog was okay, my friend had showed up and the food was amazing.

Before she left I added, “You’re her favorite person that comes over.”

“I’m the only person who comes over.”

I had to laugh at that.

Point well made – but things change. Could be in a few months that I don’t even live here anymore.

But I can count on who will walk through my front door.

I can always count on my friends.

And I don’t want to know the future – because I might miss something getting there.

Until next time –

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Musings from the Laundromat: Innocence lost – From Shar Pei to Smooth (and crunchy) Criminal

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Butters and I have a delightful ‘thing’ we do.

Every night during the Summer, when the sun goes down – I say to her “Wanna go see your lizards??”  She understands this and eagerly stands wagging at the front door.

It’s adorable.

The porch light attracts a myriad of Summer winged bugs and is prime real estate for Summer winged bug eaters.

We have a little family (maybe their not related – maybe it’s more of a commune?) of lizards living above the light, just under the eaves.

Butters will run out, sit staring at the wall and jump up to interact with one if she spots it.

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Last year she accidentally killed one – she placed it in her outdoor day bed and curled up with it. It was the most heartbreaking thing to witness.

Dead lizard, belly up – drying in the sun.

Dog treating it like a pup.

I let her grieve for her lost friend for a day or two, then disposed of it.

Last night, before bed – I asked ‘Wanna see your lizards?’

We stepped outside and she flew at the wall and BAM!

She must have nailed it just right.

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Those manatee lips of hers may be cute, but they seem to be an impairment when it comes to getting anything flat or small past them and into her mouth.

Porch light lizard, (that I didn’t even have a chance to see) successfully (or, unsuccessfully from its point of view I’m sure) arrived in the mouth of my dog.

I stood in horror.

I thought she would spit it out – and what was I going to do to end the suffering of a mangled lizard??

No need to have worried myself with that ‘what if’.

My innocent, lover-not-a-fighter, cowardly manatee started chewing.

Intently.

I was still stood staring and my eyes widened with every crunch.

She then trotted over to her water bucket and delicately drank – it was like watching someone gingerly dab their lips with a fine linen napkin after tearing into a slab of raw meat.

It was then I noticed she had not devoured all of it.

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I was disgusted – my stomach roiling.

Then I remembered she sleeps with me.

I was not taking any chances.

While she doesn’t often snuggle too close, many nights I wake to her standing inches away from my face, breathing heavily.

I washed her face – lips and tongue – and tossed a dental hygiene bone on the carpet for her.

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I wonder if the other lizards have noticed their friend is missing??

What if I find tiny little ‘lost’ posters near the porch light tonight?!?

What if they spot the tail at the scene and surmise there was a struggle?

I shall have to get rid of the evidence.

Which makes me an accomplice to my canine criminal.

*sigh*

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