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Archive for the ‘Beasts’ Category

Wanted : Elvis

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Dec-7-2010

Of course I was alone when the *dog cop* came. He might have been a normal cop, I have no idea. But he certainly knew what was going on.

And he did know a lot about dogs. I would, during our conversation, stuff my foot all of the way down my throat.

His major concern seemed to be whether or not we had insurance for this. We do, but, I told him, even if we did not, this is our responsibility. I told him about that cold morning, the lock freezing, how dark it was, The Boy running out with only socks on. I said that I knew that what happened to that family is more than hideous, but we were also stunned, that morning. And they have two kids, it is the holiday season, how horrible.

He seemed to understand dogs, and so I said, it was Elvis. He is a Newf, this is not a Rottweiler. Guess what kind of dogs this man  has ? I really had to get that foot out of my mouth. But he understood. After a time. He was going to give us a ticket, a fine, but even he and the owners of the poor, wee victim, realize that this was a bad configuration of the stars. This was an accident.

That is all that there is to it.

I told him that I was afraid that Elvis would get * the shot*. He said, no, at the most, if it happened again, Elvis would have to wear a muzzle. This works for me.

And he understood me when I told him that Elvis has zero tolerance for lapdogs barking in his face. Does not excuse what has happened, it is one of those things one has to learn to deal with when you have the biggest dogs in town.

A Day From Hell

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Dec-1-2010

I awoke at , oh, officially, 6.10 this morning. I knew that the Father had headed towards his couch at about 4am, he is now having troubles with his shoulder.

So, I mosey down into the kitchen and there are the dogs. I rather assumed that they had been there since 4am, for the only thing out of focus was the quilt on the couch. It was now on the floor.  They were jumping up and down and so I let them onto the porch, yes, get a drink of water.

Apparently, they spent the whole evening inside. Good, it is wicked cold here, and they were good boys. I worry the most about Destin, the Pyr, for he simply does not have the heavy coat that Elvis ( the newf) has.

It is pitch black outside. I let the dogs in and out, The Father leaves at about 7.30, it is still dark. The dogs are in and out.

At about 20 to 8, Destin wanted to go outside. Fine, get some water. 10 Minutes later, Elvis is huffing and panting next to me and I say, go outside, cool off, get a drink of water.

The Boy comes down at 8, I am walking back and forth in the kitchen, there is now light outside. And I can see that the gate to our yard is w.i.d.e. open. The gate to the porch is w.i.d.e. open and the dogs are gone.

The Dogs are gone ! I scream in my mild mannered way. The Boy ran out of the house without shoes, wearing only socks. He called me a few minutes later, he was coming home to get his bike. I got his gloves and the leashes ready for him.  He was very, very distraught. He put on some shoes and found the dogs.

If one puts one and one together, one knows that *the great escape* was Elvie’s idea. Destin was outside 10 minutes earlier and the dogs were found together. Elvis attacked a little yapper.  There is a police report now on Elvis. He did a lot of damage to this little dog. I feel horrible about this. The Boy, bright red face, tear stained, gave the people our number.

I have no idea how this will work out. If I were the police, I would give Elvis the shot. But it is the weather. It froze the lock on the gate, so that it would not close. And it was dark, I could not see that it was open. And Elvis, our doormat…

And then The Girl calls me : she had * an anxiety attack* on the bus to school. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. So, I am like saying, fine, come home. She is on some highway to nowhere. Ok, fine, Daddy cannot help you now, call Opa. The Boyfriend brought her home.

I solved The Girl’s problem, but I certainly do not look forward to the police coming here.  What can I say to them ? It was dark and I did not know that the lock had frozen ?

Jeepers creepers.

Dogs In Town

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Oct-11-2010

There is a leash law in our town.  There are a lot of very small dogs in our town and, oh, about ten big dogs, of which our family has two of, a Newfoundland Dog and a Great Pyrenese  Dog. We are talking about around 400 pounds of dog, between the two.

Now, think about this : I have children , would I have T-Rex Dogs in our happy home ? No. These are very gentle dogs ( look up the character of a Newf), but they are both ready and willing to die to protect anyone in our family. Even Elvis, the Newf, which really surprised me.

The Father did not close the gate to our garden well today. I was making Baby’s lunch ( hot dogs, kill me) and the dogs began making the most hideous noises.

I am going to swear.. there was a f*cking dog in our yard. It was a King Charles Spaniel, I know where that beast lives, for I have dragged him home once, but he was in our yard. If we did not have a gate to our porch, he would be sausage right now. And my dogs would be blamed for this tragedy.

Our dogs are so very torked up right now that it is unbelievable. There was a f*cking intruder in our territory. They are barking left and right.

You know, if you have a big dog, you hit a wall. If you were making your daughter lunch and found a 200 pound dog in your yard, you would call the police.  But, oh, Kareltje, oh, what a sweet f*cking dog ! ( He is a sweet dog, but that is not the point: there is a leash law and he was in our garden, and I have to protect any animal who enters our garden).

My dogs. They are sweet, they are gentle, but if you cause any shit, they are able to kill you. Think of the pack mentality: they protect their own. They only cause shit if they feel that any of their pack is threatened.

Bob The Builder

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Aug-26-2010

I rather dislike it when the working class members of our happy home return in utterly foul moods.

The Boy helped me with the shopping today and, I know, it was only supposed to be Burritos ( notice that past tense ?), but we put together a fine group of *stuff* to put in a wrap. Great cheese, fine vegetables, and perfect – in fact lovely- beef.

In fact, the beef was so lovely that when I heard that dinner could be delayed for up to 2 hours, I said, oh, no way, Jose, and put my lovely beef into the fridge, my yellow peppers…you get the idea. This meat deserves to be seared and eaten, not to sit there until it turns into shoe leather.

When the first working class hero returned home ( have I mentioned that it is POURING rain ?), I was asked why I had not dumped that bouquet of flowers. Well, I did not say, yesterday, you told me not to. Wait for the lilies to bloom, you said, hey, I did not say, you dump them, now ! Then, after 15 minutes , I was asked ( it is still really pouring here..) why I had not mentioned that letter, tossed on the table, underneath all of the other mail. Well, I did not say, you seemed to have found it right quickly, did you not , tossed and all ?

So we are having this major rain problem. Dinner is take out- thank you, Boy. I am looking out of the kitchen door, into the yard, and there is this stream, this river, of water heading right. for. the .door. It is rising, it brings back memories of that flood we had once in the kitchen, at least 6 inches deep.

I am watching this. I have towels ( shoot me, I should have sand bags prepared, I know…) ready.

Now, we have two very large dogs, and one of them, The Pyr, has a water phobia. So the porch is flooding and Destin is going crazy : water ! I let them into the kitchen.

Two wet dogs, each the size of Godzilla, reek. I put on the massive exhaust things over the stove , and Destin prances around like a young colt ( and about the same size as one..) trying to dry off his feet. He really loathes water. He is terribly upset.

I just keep watching water levels on the porch.

I actually hoped to take a bath tonight. Suppose I could have just gone on the porch, if one thinks about it, but I was watching the water level, waiting until the rain calmed down enough so that I could feed the dogs ( Elvis outside, Destin inside and never the twain shall meet…).

The next working class hero returns, and I hear about the stench in the kitchen. While I explain my concerns about the water level on the porch, I am asked if I have gone up to the attic and checked the drain pipes ( whatever they are called ) between the two attics. No, I say, but both girls are upstairs, I guess that if they were flooding into the house, they would let me know. And, I said, that other gutter, on the front of the house is working…

And if one really thinks about it, what am I supposed to do if those gutters- way up high- are stuffed ? Put on mountain climbing gear and solve it ? Climb a 40 foot ladder ?

Do I look like stinkin’  Bob The Builder ? Yes I can ?

I did not get a bath and I doubt that I will get a dinner, and I don’t really care, for if you have to nag about it, it does not count.

But the dikes held here, and I am going to watch an episode of *The Sopranos* with The Boy.

Don’t say it. I know.

Holland- Brazil 2-1

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-2-2010

I watched the game with Destie, also known as *Jaws*, in the front room, the coolest room in the house. Elvis could have come as well, but he preferred the kitchen. We have to keep the dogs inside right now, it is so warm and so humid.

But Holland won. I never expected this. Against Brazil. My favorite player is Kuijt.

Always look at the bright side of life. De dum, de dum …..

Mourning Doves

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jun-28-2010

Today at lunch, The Baby and I finally saw The Mourning Dove chicks.

The Boy had told me that he had seen them on Saturday, but I shall forever be The Doubting Thomas.

There are 3 or 4 of them. They are quite large, 4, 5 inches.

I had read that Mourning Doves will abandon a nest at any threat, so I have not worked on a large part of my Sprys since that nest appeared.

My climbing roses are a mess, but we have Baby Mourning Doves !

They are beautiful to watch.

Guess you have to like birds…

Murder Bird

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jun-16-2010

I am trying to find a Bird Sanctuary for Murder Bird.

There used to be one not too far away, but, well, a sparrow just does not seem to be that interesting.

They actually have lists of what sorts of birds that they will accept. And a miserable little sparrow is not going to cut the mustard.

I hate the thought of him living in a (very large) cage for his whole life, but I cannot let him go here. He will die within two days.

I can see that he wants *friends*, in particular, a chick.

I cannot believe this. We live in The Netherlands. They take care of everything.

But there is no place that can help Murder Bird to cross that river and be free.

Murder Bird knows why the caged bird sings.


Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jun-8-2010

I seem to be always waiting these days, for someone to come home from school, to make lunch, for someone to leave, to wake up, for my chores to be done so that I can do something that I enjoy.

For when I can talk into the kitchen, when I should be gone. I miss listening to the BBC.

After 2 pleadings, he did come and look at the Peonies. We have had them for three years and this is the first time that they have bloomed. They are gorgeous.

And he actually asked me if they were English Roses. He does listen to my nattering after all. But I did not go into detail, I simply said, nope, these are Chinese.

The Irises bloomed for the first time this year as well, after about three years. They are a lovely shade of pale, lavender blue, and quite fluffy.

Perhaps after dinner I can play in the yard, something besides pulling out weeds, trimming edges and cutting the grass.

I would like to do this.

And, as my hands are feeling better, I would like to brush the dogs up.

By the by, I am saving up grocery points to buy Destin a new soccer ball.

And, by the by, I am totally sick of the color orange.


Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jun-6-2010

We have baby Mourning Doves. I can tell by how *the parents* are behaving : one goes out for the chow, feeds it to the other, and well, the other makes the baby food, bounces around for a bit and then settles back onto the nest, at a higher level then before.

While The Parents have been hanging around here for a very long time, I have not seen them together since they set up the nest.

Now they are together again.

It takes so little to please some of the people in this house.

This is plural.

Mummy Talks To Murder Bird

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jun-5-2010

I never call him Murder Bird to his..face. I call him Birdie. Shoot me.

He reacts to this name. He likes music, he likes peanuts, he likes these very dark buns from the baker, which, by the way, I am now getting for free. Isn’t that kind of them ? He makes a mess of the canary food.

He likes attention.

Now, with most animals, they will pick up a few words, but the most important thing is your tone of voice.

I spent about 15 minutes talking to Birdie this morning. I explained, exactly, what a Leap of Faith meant. What does he care ? He simply wanted attention.

I keep telling people that this bird should not be here. He is , well, I think, one miserable bird. Sparrows are social birds and I am sure that he wants a dirty woman.There is a bird sanctuary not far away, he should be there, not here. I cannot let him go here, he cannot fly that well and there are too many cats about. He is a cat snack.

I have no idea ( isn’t this becoming a bit of a leitmotif ?) why I know so much about birds.

This morning, I had to explain the difference between a Pigeon and a Mourning Dove. Well, just look at them. A Pigeon is bigger ( and they are terribly dumb), they most likely are in the same family. I do not think that a Mourning Dove is any brighter ( look where they put the nest), but I want this nest to work.

I love Kauwen. This is one smart bird.

A Kauw is a Jackdaw.