Doggy School

It took us 9 years to get our dog Whisky to behave and listen. We are old and are not as patient now. So, next Thursday evening me and my new doggy, Coco are going to school. We are going to be trained by an experienced dog trainer who is gonna be training her new golden lab pup. Then her and the pup will be going to school to get her masters in service dog training.

It's hard trying to be the Alpha when I am not always with her and there are so many men in her life. So just to add two or more men in her life, I am going to start taking her into work with me for a couple days a week so we can interact during the day. But, she'll have my boss and his dog, Buddy to interact with, plus, the guy at the shop up front and the maintenance guy.

I want to say, we just recently got a new vet for the dog(s). We had been taking Tommy the cat to her but Jim mostly took her cause I'm not a cat person. I can not believe the difference. The other vet was like ok, he looks good, here's his shots & heartworm meds and that will be $150.00 bucks. This vet and her crew are just wonderful. They are like physic. They are constantly touching and examining the pet and telling you things about your pet and telling you what you can do to help your pet be a better pet and how you can be a good pet owner. I went along with Jim last time he took Tommy and then I went alone the other night with CoCo to get her boosters. I just love these people and I can't wait until I see them again. They were just wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. I need to send them a card or something to tell them that.
I absolutely love them.

The trainer is associated with the vet and holds her classes there and she is just as nice and wonderful as they are. I am so looking forward to class next Thursday. Having the right people in your life can make all the difference.

Doggy Jail

Today I had to go to doggy jail and bail my little chocolate cupcake, CoCo out of jail. It was a very traumatic experience and she was quite upset, too. She somehow got out of the fence and run away from Bert when he tried to get her back in. Whisk ran off with her but came back. She wound up being caught by the doggy police and hauled off to jail.

I had her file with me at work because I had just made her a vet appointment yesterday, so I went straight from work to doggy jail. They had me fill out a form, then sent me back to these 3 red doors # 3,4 & 5 to go through and look for her. The first red door #3 led to a cold, hard room filled with kennels. Almost every one had a poor little doggy in them, although some weren't so little. Some were barking, some whining and others were just laying there. My heart was just hurting so bad to see all this poor little animals locked up like that. But, it's better than having them running the streets, I suppose. So, no little CoCo in cell block #3,

I went on to # 4 and once again started looking from right to left. I was almost back at the door when I seen this little brown doggy. It looked like my CoCo, yes, she had little white paws, yes, she had a little shaved belly. Yes, this was my little CoCo, but she was shaking and shivering from head to toe. She didn't act like the brave little girl that knocks heads & bites legs with old Whisky, I put my head to the cage and said, "CoCo, my little girl" and she didn't even lick me. She didn't like that place and she was beside herself. I checked the little neck tag they had on her and seen she was picked up just a couple blocks from the house. I told her she would be out soon and went up front to let them know I had found her. After more paper work and payment of $7.50, I told the girl to keep the change as a donation cause I was so happy I didn't have to go in door #5. After I told the story to my husband, Jim. He said he was relieve that I didn't come back with a whole car load of dogs.

I hope I don't ever have to go bail her out again. That place just breaks my heart. But, now my little girl has a record. She can never get to be a rescue dog, drug dog, or anything like that. Bert, my son, said she might still be able to be a police dog. Nine years we've had Whiskey and he's had his haydays of fence jumping and running around with the gang and has never been picked up by the dog cops. Her first day out and my little girl gets picked up. Ain't that just like people cops, they stay away from guy gangs but sees a young gal walking the street and they're all over her.

The Big Wind in the Big Easy.

My mother has taken over my mind, body and soul and there seems to be nothing I can do about it.

Hurricane Katrina was heading toward New Orleans and all I could think was that it was a good thing... that New Orleans needed a good cleaning. But, it didn't turn out to be as bad as they expected it to be.

One thing about the media, It's never as bad as they report it could be and never as good as they report it is. I'm sure that there are a lot of people that are and will have some really hard times. But, since my mother has entered my body...I really don't give a hoot. She hasn't taken completely over or hoot would have been a stronger word.

So since Hurricane Katrina has turned out to be a big disappointment to me like most things in this life. I will attempt to rattle on about nothing in specific just to hear myself think.

My mother used to live in New Orleans. She moved there when she was about 16 or so some where in the early 40's. I don't know the time line completely but she was quite a looker and danced in a chorus line and hung out with some big shots associated with crime and politics, which in Louisiana is the same thing. She partied with Gov. Jimmie Davis and one of the Longs. She mixed with Carlo's family or what ever family was in charge at the time. She married a soldier and lived large with his money. He went overseas and sent all his money home to her. My aunt once told me that my mom would were these expensive coats and if she was out on the town and it rained, she would just throw the coat in the trash. Then they divorced because it was discovered that she couldn't have children and he wanted children. So she went on dancing and partying, then had the misfortune to run into another soldier who partied with her one night and drank champange out of her size 10 pump. He left but couldn't get her out of his mind and returned to New Orleans to woo her. She got wooed and took him to the res to meet the folks. The rest is history...just like this story. She wasn't infertile, they eventually married and her life became a living hell or something like that she would later lament.

I relay that story because I told my boss today that if I could do it all over again, I would live large until I was somewhere around 39 then jump off a bridge. I might assume that my mother would agree with me and when that soldier drank from her shoe she would have hit him over the head with her size ten. Before my children get to thinking they were unwanted and unloved that is not so. What I meant was that life before 40 was fun, somewhat carefree, and somewhat exciting. Now, I don't know if life changed or I did...but life sucks and then it sucks some more. No amount or combination of drugs seem to change my opinion on that. I think even though I went through some hard times and stuff when I was young, there was always hope that it would get better. Well, baby it don't get any better that this. Life can be illustrated like this; Run, run into brick wall, repeat.

So I end this now on a lighter note. #1 son coming for visit this week, so I've got to run. Ha!

I think outside the shower, therefore I have dry thoughts.

My sons' last blogs were about thinking and as luck would have it I have been doing some of that lately. First, a fleeting thought, similar to son #2's blog. I was thinking the other day that I was not actually living this life, merely thinking I was a real person living real (stupid) situations. I thought that my government or "power in charge" would not allow me to live for real because living was too dangerous or costly or something. I am allowed to think I'm living but I am not allowed to know I'm just thinking I'm living. Now that I'm smoke & alcohol free my mind is clearer and I can see these things. Now if only I can get off the drugs! Ha! Imagine what I might think is so. But, I may not live that long if the "power" realizes I am beginning to uncover the truth.
If some of you think this is a crazy idea...It is, but as son #1 was talking about the Hurricane coverage on tv, the coverage was continuous. Why? Because they had mandatory evacuation from Florida to Maine, while the "Newspeople" moved in to maintain constant vigil on conditions of the dangerous Hurricane and report to us unfortunate souls, who are unable to cope or save our selves from the danger, the terrible dangers of standing in a hurricane with a raincoat and microphone. They described the dangerous sights and sounds to us.
Just as they had with the bombings in London...They got me on that one because I hadn't been sleeping well lately and I was up channel surfing at 3am. I was glued to the tube, watching, waiting, wondering what had happen...As they interviewed and spoke back and forth trying to live for me and show me the dangers of riding on mass transit in Europe and working in tall buildings in America.
Not to sound cold or harsh, but I got to thinking, How does this really effect or is it affect my life? Do I really need news people to tell me how things are each day? Will I turn on the tv and hear them say..."traffic on Groveport Rd from Alum Creek to 1mile down to Saltzgaber is slightly heavy today, it may take you 7 minutes instead of the usual 5, if your heading that way to work this morning." No, because my imaginary life is of no consequence to anyone but me and the people I have designed to appear in my life for now. I'm not saying those terrible events don't have any consequence but I really don't want to overthink this whole meaning of life thing. I am not a Norwegian king and don't plan on writing a book on this theory. But I could be a Norwegian king if the "power" decided it was ok for me to be one. But for now, I'm just me.

Ta Da! I'm back!

Although it hadn't hit the morning news yet, I have not been able to blog lately. First, my computer did weird things and quit working for a while. Then, I finally get back on line and I forgot my password to my blog. Trouble is now I don't have any thing to say. But, ta da...I'm back!

Rude and Mean Spirited.

Today I got exposed to bad attitudes. My day started much like any other day. But, shortly after I had finished running the late letters, the boss called to let me know he was on his way but was stopping to pick up something he needed. While I was on the phone the guy who leases the building up front open the door and started f-ing this and f-that. I really wasn't getting very much else of what he was saying because with just one ear working and the phone up to that one, well you can figure it out.

To make a very long story short. He had a bad attitude and decided it was o.k. to be rude and mean spirited to me. I might have been surprised and somewhat shocked if this was the first time. It wasn't. I told the boss I think the guy is a manic or schizo. Every other day it's something. One day, he's had enough and he ain't gonna take it anymore then the next day everything is ok and things are picking up. The last time he was overly rude the boss had to talk to him. He asked him to leave his profanity at his shop. It's not that I don't know the words it's just that I don't want to hear them...Especially at work. What if that was a customer on the phone. That would have been rude, rude, rude.

Well, the man is on a roller coaster ride I don't want to take. Since he moved his shop in, I have gone out of my way to help him and be nice even when he's been in a foul mood. But, he has reached my last nerve. It takes a lot to piss off Little Zookie but when she gets at that place it takes a lot to get her away from it. People have been known to die from it...not literally but figuratively. I have erased people out of my life because of their bad attitude and how they "act" when they're in one. I take all the beating anybody should have to stand from my husband's bad attitudes. I don't need anymore. I especially don't like what it does to me. It puts me in a bad attitude and stresses me out. Luckily if I busy myself, I forget all about it until something reminds me.

However, he wasn't the only one today. Two other people came off as rude today, one on the phone and one in person. The one in person acted like I should have told the customer I was taking care of to "excuse me but evidently this women and her PROBLEM is much more important than you, and you will have to wait until I GET HER OUT OF MY FACE!!! I didn't. She went off in a huff, I politely asked the customer if he minded if I call the boss to go help the lady. He said it was fine. So I got the boss to go handle the rude lady. That's what's nice about not being your own boss. The boss gets to handle the rude people. Except for the one on the phone. He just seem disturbed that I interrupted his life to deal with something so menial and insignificant as having to drop off a key. I think he thought we should have a maintenance person standing watch over his unit, awaiting for his arrival, whenever he decided when he wanted to come so the guy could fix his door then.

I just can't help it. It hurts my soul to be exposed to so much rudeness and mean spiritness. Life is much too short to be that way. Why do people have to be that way. In this country, people can win a million dollars for being the rudest and most mean spirited. They call it Survivor. I was never one to play king of the hill. I don't care what they say I won't stay in a world without love. Oh, if I wanted to think about it I could hurt an awful lot. People can be so mean. Heck, people are so mean to the people they love and so much more to the people they don't like or they disagree with. Nothing could be ruder or meaner then a suicide bomber. This person doesn't just use words or gestures, they are so mean, so rude they are willing to die in order to make others suffer. I don't think it can get meaner then that. Oh, people are so strange. It hurts.

Whatta I know??

If I hadn't mentioned it before, my sons got me blogging. They have the most interesting sights. Some times they talk way above my head, and they might as well be speaking another language, but most times they have very entertaining entries. I know how to get by with a computer but most of the stuff they do with their blogs are beyond my capabilities. So if it's something new or difficult to me, I call on my younger son's assistance. If I knew how I would have their blogs listed on my site. Well, enough of that because just thinking about how ignorant I am is making me feel really ignorant. Maybe I can get that to work the other way?

I am smart and truly enlighten. I am smart and truly enlighten. I am...wasting my time.

My eldest is having a birthday this week, so I thought I would devote some time reminising about his life.

T'was Cinco de Mayo 1974. The earth was quiet as we enter the atmosphere around 2am edt. I was going over the final paperwork and debriefing before touchdown. I had been carrying now for nearly 9 earth months and I was getting quite tired of the whole charade. This was just too long to carry, how did human women stand it, and then go through it again some as many as 10 or 12 times. I was ready for my little piglet to pop after the 3rd pilour, but I had to suffer these past "months" to keep everything appearing normal.

Yes, normal. To me way too normal. I am a sleeper. A sleeper from Pigmania. Many, many earth years ago I was placed with a "normal" family. They chose a Native American family to place me with. I grew up with this family in a normal sort of way and now the time had been chosen to continue my own family. When the time would be chosen, I would return home for good and my offspring would take over. Until then, we were to observe.

In 1972 they had set me up with a partner and we started living a normal life preparing for a family. Soon I would hold my little piglet in my arms. We hovered over the small home my partner and I had chosen for our little one. We beamed down and all was now set for our little piggy to enter this world. All that was left was to wait for the time of birth. That happen May 7, 1974.

Oh my Piking! Human children are plain and simply UGLY! They are red and wrinkled and bony and ugly. How much more did they expect me to bear? I swore right then and there, nothing, absolutely nothing they could do or say would make me go through all this again, ever. Humans must of not thought too much better of their babies, you are not allowed to take them home unless they are wrapped up tight and a blanket placed over their faces. I had no problem with that custom. I didn't want any one to see that puny human looking child I had carried for too long. With all the excitment, I had completly forgotten another human custom...making over a baby. You hear, "Oh, he's sooooo cute.""He's adorable." "Such, cute toes"...etc, etc. Why couldn't these PEOPLE just leave us alone. But everyone we had come to know had to come see the baby. I just wanted to grab my little piglet and catch the next piji back to Pigmania. There he would be able to be himself...plump and pink and I could be round and routing in the ground. Instead, I had to put on a happy face and bear all the awful comments and raise my piggy as a human, in human form. The shame of it all.