Wood Ticks and Laughing Fits

Dear Crotchety Woman

2015-10-12T14:25:00.000-05:00

You walk on the path 'round the lake every day. Today you clapped and shouted at a flock of tired geese gently snoozing on the bank. I saw you. I talked to you and I can't believe you.

Clapping and shouting at sleeping birds is uncool. You had to go out of your way to approach them. You are a tool! You scared the whole flock and generally caused a ruckus on the end of the lake.

Smiling and saying, "They poop everywhere!" does not excuse you or your actions.
I wish I could burst into your bedroom or bathroom to clap and shout at you during your quiet time.

I hope something large poops on you.
In your hair.
And down your back.

Oh, your walking shoes look stupid and your windbreaker has a big stain on it, ya jackwagon.

Crows?

2015-10-12T11:47:00.002-05:00

I had this excellent idea to begin feeding a murder of crows. I had dreams of them bringing me gifts and maybe feeding them by hand. You can imagine how stoked I was.

The crows haven't been back since I posted my idea to the blog. Are they telepathic?

At least the fish are biting in the lake. Well, its a big pond really. Maybe I'll take the paddle boat into the middle and see if I can jig for crappie. The bass along the shore are a guaranteed catch with a white jig and curly tail soft body. Pull that same jig fast through the top ten inches of water and its pretty close to a strike each cast.

Lets see what the middle of the lake has to offer mid day.

Crows!

2015-10-09T14:54:00.003-05:00

I finally have something fun to write about!

Crows!

A whole murder of them hang out in the tree at the edge of our patio. I know what some of you are thinking. No, I'm not going to capture one of them and no I'm not going to capture two of them. But, I am going to feed them.

Crows have been known to bring gifts to people who feed or rescue them. There are a few stories on the internet of it happening to people in the past.

Can you imagine receiving treasures from a murder of crows?

I'm so excited!

Neighbor Kids: 0 Mike: 1

2015-08-22T17:15:00.001-05:00

Overheard the grandmother next door trying to call her grandchildren into the house this evening. They were being rather insolent. So I called to the youngsters, "Hey kids. Did you see the guy who's been in my yard the past few nights? I didn't really get a good look at him because he moves so fast. I asked him what he was doing in my yard and he just stood up, growled and jumped over the fence into your yard. I saw him again last night in your yard staring up at your bedroom windows."

The kids left vapor trails behind them as they dashed into the house. The grandmother smiled and thanked me for telling her about the man. I said, "He's tall and pale with really long arms and legs. I couldn't really see his face. It looked like he kind of didn't have a face. I don't know. It was dark. But that guy can really jump so just watch out and keep the kids inside when its dark outside."

Grandmother next door:1
Noisy neighbor children: 0
Mike's peace and quiet: 1

Sunday Morning Conversations

2015-04-26T06:04:00.000-05:00

Who puked on the floor, Mike?

Well, you aren't yelling at me so that leaves me out. My next guess is it's probably a cat. I mean, it could be a neighbor, but you aren't on the phone with the Milwaukee PD and I'm not teeing off on someone so I'm going to go with the cat.

I know that ya smart ass. Which cat is sick?

Honey, I don't want to play Sherlock the cat vomit Holmes right now.

Well, it's not a hairball.

Oh no, I don't need details, Dawn!

So who did it?

Listen, I left my magnifying glass and plaid earflap hat in the truck. Your guess is as good as mine.

I bet it was Jasper. He was rooting around under the sink last night.

Yeah, Jasper has Pika. He eats glue and Target bags.

Yup! It's Jasper. I just found a chewed up air freshener and he smells like an "April Morning Breeze".

Cage Cleaning Day

2014-09-30T10:13:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was cage cleaning day.

We have five wonderful female rats who live in a large three level cage. Pumpkin, Sadie, Gilda, Daisy, and Piper. They have a plush hanging pirate ship, assorted chewing toys, bridges, hammocks and tons of newspaper to root around in and make a ruckus. Now when I say they make a ruckus I mean a mess. Rats have great personal hygiene. The living quarters suffer. A complete overhaul of the cage is required from time to time.

I prepared myself for a bit of hard work but not the following frustration.

About half way through the procedure, and believe me it is a procedure, Dawn began to mutter to herself. I was in the bathroom scrubbing some part of the cage or other when I heard, “Mike, I need your help.”

“Sure. Be right there. Let me dry my hands.” I turned off the water, grabbed a hand towel and walked to the spare room.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Dawn looked at me with “angry face” and said, “Mike, I’m sick of this vacuum cleaner cord. Look at this!” She held up her arms. Part of the cord was wrapped around her head, neck and chest. The remaining portion tangled itself around the leg of the couch, a box of stuff, and the vacuum cleaner.

“Oh, wow! How did you get it to do that?” I stood wide-eyed in the doorway.

She whipped the free part of the cord like a wild savage and exclaimed, “I’m not trying to rope a f*@ken steer! Why won’t this….gahhhhh! See how it’s all wound around the thing and it won’t….. Gaaaahhhhhh!”

She whipped the cord again. With each flick, it made a snapping sound as she muttered a single word, “I. Hate. This. Cord. Let. Go. Of. The. Box. You. Stupid. Cord!” The plug darted past my head and clipped the ceiling.

“Easy killer!” I shouted and jumped out of the room. “All I need is one smack from the high-speed plug-end of that sumbitch and we’re getting a d-i-v-o-r-c-e!”

She huffed and stopped.

“Just let me take a look.” I peeked in the room and located the problem. “I can fix it but not if you’re gonna start whipping around like a poop-throwin’ monkey. Be still and let me get it.”

“Just fix it!” She shouted.

With far more effort than necessary, I untangled the cord from the furniture.

“Whew! That thing was a mess. I would have given up right away.” I leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and unwrapped the remaining cord off her head, neck, and chest. She simply stood there giving me “frustrated annoyed” face.

“Why don’t you let me do the vacuuming, Honey?” I offered.

She dropped the rest of the cord and stepped past me. I scooted the vacuum cleaner out of her way and grabbed the cord. Somehow, during those few short movements, I lost sight of the plug end.

Dawn busied herself with the plush hanging pirate ship. “I think it’s time to clean this thing out. Was it done last week or this week?” She looked at me for an answer but I was not paying attention.

“Mike, look at me and leave the cord alone. When’s the last time the pirate ship was cleaned?”

I looked blankly at her and said, “Yes.” I still could not find the plug end to the damn cord.

“Yes what?”

“What? I don’t know. Who cares? What in blazes is with this thing?” I was marching in place now, with my hands over my head, trying to unscrew myself from the ever-tangling nightmare. Somehow, from the moment she dropped it until the time I bent over to pick it up the damn cord had wound itself around my leg, the vacuum cleaner, rat cage, past my elbow and into a knot.

“Mike quit horsing around! I asked if the pirate ship was cleaned out last week or this week.”

“Yes, I think so.” (Amount of attention paid? Zero.)

I shook my body like a Kodiak fresh out of an Alaskan river and as I did, the cord gently slid off me and into a neat pile around my feet.

“Honey, I think this cord is possessed.” I reached up to scratch my head but Dawn batted my hand down and made me jump. “What? I didn’t do anything I swear it just untangled itself.” I pointed at the coils on the floor and stepped clear of them. Vacuuming could wait until later.

I thought of Vincent, our wonderful 11-year-old son, whom I found wound in the same situation a few weeks ago. I asked him what happened to which he replied, “I was trying to vacuum. But let’s just say mistakes were made and be done with it, O.K., dad?” The poor kid had to battle the vacuum cleaner demon all by himself and survived. I made a mental note to praise him the next time we talked.

I looked at Dawn, “Honey, I think Pumpkin is still in the pirate ship. She thinks it’s playtime. She’s gonna hang on for all she’s worth. Don’t be surprised if you have to clean it with her still in there.” I turned and walked back to the bathroom and as I did, I could hear Dawn grunting, struggling to free Pumpkin from the pirate ship.

I was in the bathroom maybe 30 seconds when Dawn shouted, “Damn it! Mike these rats won’t get out of this pirate ship. It’s as if they are using van der Walls forces to hang on to it or something. Look at them. They’re like geckos.” Dawn teaches science and likes to spring big words and fancy terms on me from time to time.

“What-the-who’s what?” I asked as I returned to the spare room.

“Van der Walls force. Physical chemistry. Forget it. Just help me with this rat.” She jammed her hand in the pirate ship and a little rat head poked out the other end, wiggled its whiskers for a moment then retreated.

“Pumpkin is in the pirate ship raising hell. Oh god, now someone else hopped in because they think it’s play time.” Again, she jammed her hand into the ship and two heads, first Pumpkin, then Gilda, poked their heads out. They wiggled their whiskers, locked eyes with Dawn, made happy squeaks and ducked inside.

“I give up.” Dawn said and extricated herself from the cage. “I can’t get them out of that damn pirate ship. They love that thing!”

“Oh, I just cleaned it a couple days ago. You don’t have to mess with it Princess.” I said.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Go back in the bathroom before you get hurt, Mike. I already asked you that question.”

“Well, watch out for the cord. It’s wound around your ankle again. I’m gonna finish up in the bathroom and then grab some coffee. Just give me a holler if you need help with the vacuuming.”

New Neighborhood

2014-07-06T16:49:00.002-05:00

Yep, we moved again. This time we moved into Dawn's parents upstairs apartment. Her father is very ill with late stage prostate cancer. It's nice to be close to him and be able to help when necessary.

My son, Vincent, is with me for the summer and loves the new place. We have campfires in the evening and there are lots of kids to play with in the neighborhood. In fact, its those kids who are going to be great material for this blog. The things they say just crack me up.

For example, Nathan looked at me today and said, "Mr. Go-la-zes, me and Vincent are gonna make a list of games to buy. And maybe we should get some more controllers for the Xbox so more kids can play at the same time. And maybe our moms can make lunches for us because you always make stuff like vegetables. Kids don't like that stuff all the time."

Meanwhile Vincent is trying to correct the child on the pronunciation of our name, Gonzalez, and when the kid gets to the part of kids not liking vegetables he plants a hand on his forehead and rolls his eyes. I just stand there taking it all in and watch as strange children I've never met before shake their heads in agreement with the 7 year old mastermind, Nathan.

Vincent breaks the silence. "Well my dads name is Gonzalez, and I love broccoli and if you walk away from the table hungry its your own darn fault. That's what my dad tells me and I eat everything."

It's my turn to slap a hand to my forehead and roll my eyes. "What Vincent means is it's polite to eat what is served when someone prepares food for you. If you don't care for something then the proper thing to do is thank them for making it and say 'no thank-you' when they offer it."

My words fall on deaf ears as I am interrupted by a child I've never met before asking me if we have Popsicles. A heart beat later even Vincent has moved on.

A few minutes later I hear a child shout, "Don't be a douche!" followed by ear splitting silence. Then like the soft voice of an angel I hear my son whisper, "Holy shit you are gonna be in trouble if my dad heard that."

"Alright! Game off and everyone in the kitchen." The silence from the front room roars and I can hear the Xbox power down. A few long moments more of silence and I say, "I'm not going to count to three. I said get in here."

In from the front room tumble four kids, Vincent age 11, Nathan age 7, Emily age 7, and the kid who doesn't talk. Estimated age 6-8 years old. Vincent stands directly in front of me and snaps to a smart military prade-rest position and says, "Yes Dad?" I never taught him to do that. He simply found it the best way to show me that he is listening when I'm preparing to deliver guidance.

"Who lost their minds and used foul language?" Emily and the kid who doesn't talk each take a step back from Vincent and Nathan. Vincent begins to squirm and Nathan is marching in place while wringing his hands.

Looking serious at the boys I ask in a firm but warm voice, "Who said what?" to which Vincent replies, "Oh God, dad, are we in a lot of trouble?"

"Da- (I almost choke on my back teeth as I try to censor myself.) darn it, Vincent, stop calling out to God. What have I told you about that?"

Nathan chimes in, "Is it O.K. if I pray to God because I'm scared?"

"Look kids, this has nothing to do with God! Just stop swearing and no more foul language or everyone is going home." I point to the front room and all four kids scamper away.

A moment later the kid who doesn't talk peeks his head into the kitchen and whispers, "Mr. La-gon-ez I think you should make them eat broccoli for supper. We can stay for supper right?" then he disappears and runs to the front room.

Omar's Story

2014-06-15T18:59:00.000-05:00

In my previous post, I mentioned getting another kitten. Well, we have happily added Omar to our family. How we got Omar still confuses me. There was a string of logic that I'm still not entirely sure about and some reasoning that I'm sure Dawn and I both found questionable. But he is ours and this is the story of how we got him.

"Mike, look at this kitten! Its half Norwegian Mountain Cat and half Bengal! We should get this kitten!"

I looked at the image of a crazy looking kitten that in no way resembled either of the aforementioned breeds. He was super cute. Most baby animals are. Dawn suggested that I call the number in the Craigslist ad. I did.

"Hello, this is Mike. I'm calling about the kitten you listed on Craigslist. Is he still available?"

Without excusing herself she muffled the phone and began talking to another woman about the cats.

"We still got one boy cat right? You ain't sold it?"

She shouted in my ear, "Yep, we got one boy left. I just trimmed his claws. You want him?"

I switched the phone to my other ear and winced as I tried to dig her voice out of my head with a finger.

"Well, we would certainly like to see him. Could we visit with him for a bit before we make the decision? Are the parents on site? We would like to see them as well."

The woman agreed and gave me the address. Dawn and I jumped in the car and made the short trip to the East Side. I was pretty happy when I noticed that all the houses looked like owner-occupied places. The East Side is nice but it has sketchy parts. As we got closer to the address I began to realize that we were driving to the only house with uncut grass and eleventy-billion faded and broken children's toys scattered about with garbage and what looked like a bag of forgotten groceries on the steps.

"Good lord Dawn, if I go in that house and someone tries to eat, rape, or enslave me then we are getting a divorce."

Dawn just looked at me with a blank stare and said, "Kitten, Mike. Kitten. We are here for a kitten."

I stopped and pointed at the house. "Well, that's how it starts! One moment you are going to look at a kitten and the next moment you come too in a dim basement with a ball gag in your mouth. Some dude is muttering about waking the gimp and you can't feel your hands because the ropes are too tight. I've seen that movie. That stuff happens. Jeffrey Dahmer was real."

"Shut up Mike."

We got to the top of the steps and crossed the small cluttered porch. I reached out my hand and was going to ring the doorbell but stopped. The button looked broken and the little orange light inside it was just begging to be touched so it could send a few volts up my arm. I made a gentle fist and knocked on the door.

We stood there in silence for a few moments looking at our reflections in the dirty storm door. We do make a cute couple. I leaned over and quietly said the following words.

"Honey, I love you more than I've ever loved someone. I know you really want this kitten. But if we go in there and I smell even the faintest whisper of terror or ass or hopelessness I'm gone. I swear to god if she says the kitten is in the basement I'm gone. If I hear or see chains or duct tape I'm gone......."

Dawn cut me off, "Shut up! Someones coming."

A heavyset young woman with a huge smile on her face and an even huger baby on her hip came to the door.

"Hi! Come in! You must be Mike and Dawn. I think the kitten just ran in the basement. I'll go get him. You can wait in the living room."

I looked at Dawn and whispered through my teeth, "Let's get the hell out of here. She said basement damn it and I'm not falling for it!"

Dawn just shushed me and stepped inside. I stood on the porch for a moment and weighed my options. Finally, I screwed up enough courage to take a few tentative steps into the foyer. I sniffed the air, Desitin and baby shampoo. Desitin was close to ass. I was nervous but at least they washed the baby.

Dawn rounded the corner into the living room and I could hear an older woman greet her and two little voices like cherubs saying hello to Dawn. Maybe we would be O.K. I thought. There were too many kids here for any foul play to jump off. I followed Dawn into the living room and greeted the grandmother and two small children and began to relax.

A few moments later the heavyset woman trotted up the basement stairs with an adorable kitten in one hand and the baby who ate Miller Park on her hip. The baby was trying to snatch at the kitten and the kitten was trying to get down. I stretched my hands out to take the kitten from her.

"Here let me help you."

"Oh thank you! He is so heavy! He's just like his dad. They never stop eating." she said with a smile as she dropped the kitten and handed the baby to me.

Dawn bent over and scooped up the kitten. I locked eyes with the baby who ate Miller Park. The grandmother started prattling on about how they just moved to Milwaukee from Florida and how they used to rescue cats. The mother grabbed the mom and dad cats and proudly held them up for us to see. Then, the baby who ate Miller Park, still looking me dead in the eyes, took a deep breath, grimaced and pushed and took a massive dump. A real diaper stretcher. Then he slowly turned his head, looked at his mom, then back at me and let out the best giggle I've heard in years.

I complimented the baby on his excellent form and determination and probably mentioned something about the size and frequency of his meals as I handed him back to his mother. She dropped the mom and dad cats and took back her giant poopy man baby. Then she held him up, sniffed his but and retreated to the bathroom.

I smiled and clapped my hands together and said, "So that's the mom and dad right?"

"Yep," said the grandmother.

"And you want 100 bucks for the kitten is that right?"

"Yep," said the grandmother.

"Well, I'm thinking three things right now. Maybe you will see where I'm going with this. First, the mom cat isn't a Bengal. She is a tabby and she has a lazy eye. Second, the dad is just a long-haired black and white mix of something or other. In fact, he might even be mildly retarded. It's obvious that he doesn't clean himself and I think he just ate a lego. Third, my wife is holding a kitten that I am doomed to pay for because I can hear her making kissy noises and calling herself momma."

We both looked at Dawn. She had the kitten pressed to her cheek and I could hear the purring from both of them all the way across the room. I looked back at the grandmother and smiled.

"What say I give you thirty bucks and we call it a deal. There's no way that kitten has had shots and I guarantee you don't know the direction to a vets office."

The grandmother smiled, said, "Deal" and held out her hand. I dropped a twenty and a ten into her open hand, shook the other one and said goodbye.

The drive home was cute. Omar purred so loud I thought he would rumble the pavement loose in the road and Dawn smiled non stop.

"That was pretty painless wasn't it Mike? Only a hundred bucks for a Bengal and Mountain Cat mix! I think we got a good deal."

I smiled, "Yeah! I still have 70 bucks in my pocket and all I had to do was risk my life, get pooped on, and haggle a bit. Not bad for 5 minutes of work and I got a cute kitten to show for it."

"What are you talking about? Did one of the cats poop? Oh my god I didn't even notice it! And I thought we paid a hundred dollars? Oh, this little guy is so cute. I can't believe they sold him! How much did you say you paid? Oh, his nails need to be trimmed! Look at how long they are! They look like needles. You paid a hundred I thought?"

"Don't worry about it, honey. Just give the kitty some loving and I'll tell you all about it when we get home."

And that, my friends, is Omar's story.

A Letter to Milton

2014-03-16T15:52:00.000-05:00

Dear Milton,

I love you. You are the funniest and most social rabbit I've ever owned. You are a great pet. But we need to talk.

The last time we put you under anesthetic to repair your damaged ear your heart stopped. I remember. I was there. You flat lined on us. I pumped the air bag while the vet gave you chest compressions and the adrenaline shot. You do not do well under anesthetic. That is why we were advised to refrain from getting you fixed. You dogged that bullet. But now I'm having second thoughts.

Its times like this, when you are sleeping peacefully ON TOP of your cage, stretched out on your side like the king of the world that I think about what you do to this family. Your constant cat humping is placing a strain on my wife. She gets wound up if I even look at a cat wrong. Just imagine how she feels when she catches you hammering on a cat in the missionary position! You thought Mr. McGregor was unhappy with Peter Rabbit? Imagine how Mom gets when she sees you trying to set a land speed record up a cats backside.

You are really screwing up your Karma.

Personally, I just think you and the cats are big freaks. I mean Vorpal seems to tolerate and almost welcome your advances. Even Jasper doesn't mind a good shagging from time to time. He lets you do it while he's eating. Stanley is mostly fine with it unless you actually connect with his business and then it looks like it hurts him. But that's probably his fault for rolling onto his back and giving you an unobstructed path to his danger zone.

Mom doesn't see things the way I do. If it were up to me, and its never ever up to me, but if it was I would let you and the cats figure it out. They can get to the top of the cat tree. You can't. Problem solved. But things don't work that way in our house. You get amorous and I get yelled at because I do nothing to stop you. Do you see the connection? Your sex life is infringing on my peace and quiet.

Please put a leash on your libido and stop messing up your karma. The disturbances you cause in the force have rippling effects. Do your best to stay off the wave that lands you in the vets office.

Thank you.

Dad

P.S. Stop jumping the barrier to the guest bedroom. Mom set that up so the cats can have a rape free zone for nap time.

Pro Tip

2014-02-02T10:48:00.003-06:00

Pro Tip: Olive oil in a warm bath will leave your skin soft and help to lock in moisture.

Pro Tip 2: Your feet will be slicker than eel shit on the bottom of the sea!
Be prepared to crawl out of the tub on all fours or run the risk of slipping and bashing nude parts of yourself into random porcelain items throughout the bathroom. DO NOT be fooled by the absorbancy of the bath mat. You gotta dry the bottom of your hoofs darn good or you're gonna dance like a naked crazy person the moment you step off the mat.

Stay Out of the Christmas Tree

2013-12-19T06:33:00.000-06:00

Dear Cats,
(Jasper, Chloe, Vorpal, Sampson, Stanley, and Bear)

I will sell someone to the circus if you don't stay out of the Christmas tree.

I've had enough.

Don't look at me all shocked and wide eyed! I saw you! Do you really think you are being sneaky when you climb to the top? The whole dang tree shivers and shakes like a farm-dog crapping a corn cob. We can hear you grunting, straining and breathing heavy. Everything shakes and its stressful as heck to watch.

What is the fascination with controlling the top of the tree? I've watched two or more of you tangled up trying to kick each other off with your back feet. The other day someone booted Vorpal out with such force that he banged into the entertainment center on his way to the floor. I shouldn't have to tell you what it does to my blood pressure when I see kittens in orbit.

Do you think there is an award for you up there? Some kind of reward? Bragging rights maybe? Well let me be the first to tell you that the only thing at the top of the Christmas tree is the star and the phone number to the guy at the circus who buys the animals. If you see me going for that number then you better come up with stage names mighty quick because someone will be spending Christmas with the Ringling brothers.

Stay out of the tree.

Feliz Navidad

Dad

Shakin off the funk

2013-11-13T11:17:00.001-06:00

We've been back in Wisconsin for less than 6 months and I've already had my first emergency room visit.

Yep.

It was a real live, "Honey, get the car. I got to go to the emergency room," kind of moment.

I get lung infections from time to time. Actually twice a year for the past few years. Anyway, it got bad this time and my medicine at home wasn't doing the trick so a trip to the ER in the middle of the night was in order. They gave me all kinds of steroids and other medicine to get me back on the mend. I should be fine in a little while.

I'm ready to shake off this funk and get back in the game. I've been fighting this for two months. Its been a long two months. Even my cats are tired of it.

Our cat Jasper thinks the rattling in my chest is me growling. Jasper doesn't like growling. He bites me each time the wheezing gets loud. Then its time for me to take more medicine.

So with my new digs in Wisconsin finally coming together and my first ER visit out of the way I figure I should get back in the saddle and start writing. Please forgive me if what I'm sharing isn't up to par with my material from North Carolina. That place was something else. It seems almost like a dream. A hot, funny, wood tick, duck, snake, and chicken filled dream with a deep southern accent.

I was only there a year and a half but in that time I lived in two different houses. Raised chickens, kittens, snakes, ducklings, turkeys, turtles and rabbits. Was hospitalized once and sent to the ER 7 times, played wing-man for a 75 year old guy, almost got bit by a shark and attacked by pit-bulls.

Wisconsin isn't nearly as exciting. The best thing to happen to me so far is the raccoon who comes to my bedroom window at night to beg for food. He also tries to bite the hell out of me. I named him Rabies.

Rabies doesn't like to be hand fed. I learned that the hard and painful way. He wants his food dropped in the space where the flies go to die. That space between the screen and inside window. (I took the screen out so he doesn't tear it up.) He is partial to peanuts, honey roasted, and goes bonkers for any kind of doughnut. He actually tossed an apple slice off the roof in protest when I tried to get him on a better diet. Bananas are also out of the question.

In the evening when I start to make dinner, he comes to the kitchen window and waits. If I don't open it and offer him something he gets cross and bangs on the window. If I wait any longer then he starts to yell at me. We've argued through the glass with each other over my offerings and his particular taste in people food. Oh well, at least Dawn eats what I cook.

Anyway, for what it is or isn't worth, I'm writing again.

"She shook it and gave it a sniff!"

2013-05-23T07:09:00.000-05:00

Dear Busy Body Post Office Lady,

I want to begin by thanking you for taking care of my mail. Good job!

But, it isn't necessary to offer a verbal breakdown of each package that didn't fit in my post office box.

Now, I realize that in a town of 300 people your job may get a bit boring. There may be times when your job seems tedious and repetitive. You have my sympathy and my respect. But, announcing the sender, speculating on the packages contents, and offering unsolicited advice about the imagined contents of the package in front of other customers is, well, its just stupid. In fact, it creeps us out.

The thought of you spending time alone with our stuff in a dimly lit office with all kinds of time on your hands makes us feel a little bit dirty inside. Do you shake the packages when they arrive like a child at Christmas? Do you smell them? We've watched you through the tiny door of the post office box and more than a few of us think you actually smell the packages. And that little shake you give each package before you hand it to us makes our stomachs tighten. We set our jaws and do our best not to snatch the thing out of your hands like a greedy child snatching at a favorite toy. We are adults. Yet you have the ability to awaken the five year old in each of us when you molest our stuff.

Have you noticed the people gathering outside the tiny post office before and after we pick up our mail? I'm sure passersby who see the frequent gatherings must think, "Oh, look! People meet outside the post office and chat because its a quaint little spot for people to gather and chat from time to time." We wish that was the case. But more often than not the conversations go something like this.

"Hi Debbie."

"Hi Mike, did you get the contract you were hoping for?"

"Um, we find out later this week. Fingers crossed right?"

"I hear ya Mike. Its hard to find decent work in this economy. Well, I have to see if I've got any packages to pick up from Ms. Busy Body in there."

"Ha! I didn't pick up mail for the last two days because I didn't want to deal with her foolishness that early in the week."

"You know what she did? She actually told my husband that he should stop buying books from Amazon because there are local resellers in our area who need the money."

"Oh, I know what you mean Debbie! She told me that I should switch to a different insurance company last week. AND she said I should tell State Farm to stop sending me junk mail. She also told me that there are doctors offices closer to town where we can get "Better service."

"Mike, you put up with more than the rest of us because you are new in town. Lets go inside together and if she gives you hell I'll set her straight."

Now, I hope I have illustrated what is actually happening in front of our quaint post office sufficiently for you. Grown people are banding together in groups of two or more in order to deal with/confront you. You are 4'9" tall. We wait for backup. Do you see what you have done to us?

In summary I want to again thank you for your service. Maybe you could hold back on some of your opinions in the future? Then again, after careful consideration, it is people like you who make this town special. Where else can you get a crazy small town post office experience and feel deeply bonded to your neighbors in ways you never imagined? On second thought, you probably shouldn't change the way you are.

But maybe you could stop sniffing the packages. We can see you through the little door in the post office box and you look mighty creepy snorting through our stuff.

Sincerely
Us

River Monsters

2013-05-11T16:58:00.002-05:00

Some of my readers know I have a fear of sharks. Actually, its not so much a fear of sharks themselves. Its more of a fear of swimming in deep water where something larger than me, or toothier than me, could take a bite of me. Does that make sense? I mean, I've gone shark fishing and had a blast. But the idea of my arse tipping out of the boat into chum and shark infested water really freaks me out. One can imagine that there is a very fine line between fun and fear whenever I attempt to enjoy water related activities. So my heart skipped a beat when I heard Dawn make the following comment.

"Let's go to the river!"

She has been so busy with school and the end of year activities that I was pretty shocked by the suggestion. But far be it from me to pass up a chance to go fishing.

Jeremy Wade from Animal Planets, River Monsters.

"I'll grab the gear, you pack the food and whatever you want and put it all on the porch. Then I'll pack the car and we can get some gas..." Dawn interrupted,"Mike, the river is eight miles away. This isn't a cross country trip. I don't even know how long I want to hang out there. We aren't going for a 'walk-about' and you are not Jeremy Wade."

"Um...please don't let me get to the river and start fishing and suddenly you want to leave. I'd really like it if this didn't go south within the first ten minutes of getting there." I mentioned.

"Just get your stuff Mike. Don't over think this." She smiled, gave me a peck on the cheek and flitted off to find something cute to wear. Finding something cute to wear is code for packing the heaviest bag of stuff possible without looking like a bag lady.
Then I have to carry it once we get to the destination because, "Honey, this is really heavy."

It wasn't long before we had everything in the car and were on our way. The Roanoke River is connected directly to the ocean without any dams or obstacles between the location I planned to fish and the Atlantic. It is also the Rockfish Capital of the World! Rockfish get big, as in, "HOLY CRAP THATS A BIG FISH!" sort of big. Average size is four feet long and they can live thirty years!

There are also catfish the size of me in that river and it wouldn't surprise me if there were Bull Shark in the fresh water as well. There was a real possibility that I may lace into something akin to a "River Monster". Little did I know what was in store.

I went through a mental inventory of my gear as we drove and questioned my tackle selection. I simply wasn't equipped to deal with anything larger than a few pounds. In the event that something monstrous took my bait I would be in for one heck of a fight. For those of you who are anglers I'm sure you understand what it means to have 5 lb. test, a light action rod, and no net....in a river full of rocks, and potential river monsters. The prospect of landing anything appreciably large seriously decreases when those variables are taken into consideration.

"Hey! Park right there in the shade so the car doesn't get hot." Dawn quipped as we pulled up to the river.

"Ah...honey...that spot is a country mile from the river where I'll be fishing. Would it be OK if I......" She cut me off. "You never fish in one spot Mike so just park in the shade and everything will be fine. I'm going to sit by those trees right there."

"Yeah but what if I catch a nice fish? I want you to see it and you can't see the river from that spot. Don't you want to be near the bank where you can see the river better?" I sounded hopeful.

"Mike, there are geese and ducks all along the river. You know they leave turds big as small dogs. I'm not sitting in a bunch of goose poop."

I looked at the river bank. Sure enough, the bank was full of geese, ducks, and a pair of swans. I could see a great blue heron wading near the opposite bank. He plunged his head in the water and came up with a wiggling fish.

Dawn and I walked across the parking area together. At the moment we were going to go separate ways we gave each other a kiss and I trotted off to the river bank.

As I walked across the parking area a gigantic silver diesel pickup truck slowly pulled up next to me. "You gonna have a heck of a time fishin' here buddy I promise ya that!" The driver called as he neared me. My heart jumped a bit. I smiled, looked at him and said, "Really? That good huh?" He smiled ear to ear and drove off. There's nothing better than good news from a local when you are about to go fishing!

The Mighty Roanoke River

The Roanoke River was there in all of its grandeur, stretched out before me. The dam was open, the water was high and countless eddies and swirls behind boulders offered more than enough places to toss a bait. I quickly found the most goose poop free stretch of real estate and set down my gear. After looking at the water for a few minutes, I opened my tackle box, pulled out a bait and regarded it with intensity. The wrong bait would be sure to invite a river monster but the right one just might catch something I could deal with. I sat there pondering my options.

With my selection made I began to prepare my rod. As I assembled the pieces I began to get the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced around and realized I was the only person fishing. Dawn was back up the bank lounging and reading in the shade. I shook the feeling off and focused on the task at hand. With the rod assembled I peered down its length to insure proper alignment of the eyelets, checked the reel and began threading the line up the rod. As I neared the last eyelet I looked over my outstretched right arm and noticed a huge swan standing extremely close to my tackle box. "Shoo, there's nothing for you in there." I said and finished threading the line. A smart fisherman never leaves a tackle box open if he isn't actively using it so I wasn't worried about the swan getting hooked. With one hand on the end of the line and the rod in my hand I tried to gently nudge the swan away from my tackle.

There are a number of poor decisions I've made in my life. I will be the first to admit my shortcomings But nothing prepared me for the result I was going to face after touching a swan with my rod tip.

The air in front of me exploded, my rod bent and a thundering kind of air horn noise nearly deafened me. The swan was attacking. Me.

I back peddled and dodged the first strike the swan took but caught a fore-wing between the legs. The blow connected firmly with my tender bits. As my knees buckled I put my hand out to protect my face and chucked the rod at the swan. Fire shot up my arm as the swan took hold of my fingers and shook its head like a pit-bull.

"GAAAAAAHHHHAAAA! Swan quit! Quit!" I shouted. The swan paused in front of me with its wings at half mast. It hissed a long angry sound. Its knife like tongue quivered angrily and I realized that the damn thing was far from done with me. It lunged again.

A split second before it got me I felt a searing pain in the back of my right leg where the butt cheek becomes thigh. You know, that really tender skin that isn't designed to withstand swan attacks. I shrieked like a woman, grabbed my ass with both hands and ran like hell. Now there were two swans attacking me. One from the front and the other from behind.

I could hear Dawn calling to me in the distance. "Mike, quit messing with those birds!"

"Gaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! HAAAALP ME!" I shouted as the swans connected with me again and again.

There was only so far I could run before I tired out so I decided that turning to face my attackers might be the better thing to do. I planted my feet, crouched and shouted, "Hey!" at the top of my lungs in the hope that I might startle my attackers.

In the event that you should ever find yourself the victim of a swan attack do not stop and face
them. That is exactly what they want. The first swan jumped and spread its wings and hit me square in the chest. It slammed its beak into the top of my head and I'm sure it pulled out hair as we fell to the ground. My instinct was to grab the swan and tuck my head into it to avoid the hammer blows it was trying to rain down on me. So that's what I did. The swan shrieked like an air horn. The sound it made was different than the rage filled shrieks from a moment earlier. Was it scared? Did I turn the tables?

Swans may or may not mate for life. I honestly don't give a shit about their matting habits actually. All I know is that if you have a pair of swans attacking you then they are likely mates. They are a team. A dangerous and efficient team capable of inflicting grievous amounts of pain and embarrassment with lightning fast attacks. I buckled under the barrage of wings, beaks and shrieks.

As I was falling to the ground I thought about my life and the ones I love. As I hit the ground I thought about the good life I'd had up to the moment before the attack. As I came to rest in the fetal position I actually wished that Dawn had a camera running to record the last moments of my life. The video of my demise would surely get more than a million hits on YouTube I thought and almost smiled with the far away content sort of smile that I imagine a dying man would make while being killed by waterfowl.

I hit the ground in a ball. Suddenly a crazy loud honk pierced my ears and I was bathed in hot blowing air. My eyes were shut so all I could imagine was maybe a bear had joined the assault and was now standing over me roaring its hot diesel smelling breath across my back.

Diesel..........

The swans were silent.

Most people never want to see the underside of
a truck like this. I was all to happy to feel its
hot diesel breath wash over my battered body.

I opened my eyes and looked up. There, only a foot away from me was the front bumper of a silver diesel truck bathing me in hot air from the radiator fan. The guy I talked to earlier saw my predicament and slowly drove his truck over me and scared off the swans. I jumped to my feet, ran past the driver and didn't stop till I was on the opposite side of the parking area. After a quick glance to ensure I wasn't followed I collapsed to the ground huffing and puffing in pain.

Soon Dawn and the driver of the truck were standing over me with smiles on their faces. "You OK?" Dawn asked.

"Hell no! I'm pretty damn far from OK."

"Told ya you was gonna have a heck of a time fishing there buddy! Least I stuck around ta see if you'd git attacked. Good thing too cause them birds got the better of ya!" The driver of the truck said all high and mighty.

I struggled to my feet and began to examine my injuries. Bruises and raspberry bumps appeared all over my arms and my head was pounding. I put my hand up and could feel stubbly hair in two places where the swans had nearly ripped it out by the roots.

I thanked the driver of the truck and gave him a big hug. He strongly suggested I not hug him like that and maybe we should work on getting my rod and tackle box back before he left. I lifted my head from his shoulder, looked up at him and with a sheepish grin I said, "Thanks." He gently pushed me away and wiped the hug off of himself.

He pulled his truck up near my gear and honked a few times to shoo the birds away. I was going to shake his hand one last time and thank him before he left but he probably had enough touching of strangers for the day and drove off with a funny look on his face. I guess hugs aren't popular in the south. Especially man hugs.

"Um....Can we go home honey?" I asked Dawn as I returned to the car.

"I got everything in the trunk already. Lets get you home and cleaned up. You have goose crap all over you and you probably need some mild medical attention."

I cringed at the idea of being covered in feces but after a cursory glance it didn't appear to be that serious. I stretched a blanket over the passenger seat, plopped down and shut the door. Dawn started the car and we drove away. As we left the river I looked back and watched as two white river monsters flapped their wings and gracefully settled down on the bank of the Roanoke with all their graceful swan like splendor.

Nobody got time to put up a dang sign?

Boston Bombings

2013-04-16T13:44:00.001-05:00

Some of my readers asked if I'd write a bit about the tragedy in Boston. While I appreciate your interest in my opinion I respectfully decline to share my feelings. Wood Ticks and Laughing Fits is about laughter and personal experience. Actions that wreck peoples lives have no place at this site.

I prefer to focus on the people who saw an opportunity to help one another when the tragedy unfolded. Those people, the ones running toward the smoke, they put a smile on my face.

Be good.

Smile.

Love one another.

-Mike

A Fine Spring Day

2013-04-11T09:35:00.002-05:00

The weather in our part of North Carolina has been excellent the past few days. Mid 80's in the afternoon with dips near fifty in the evening. And so goes the old saying, "Spring has sprung, the grass is riz! I wonder where those flowers is?"

Most of the time I get excited about the change in seasons. Well, I'm always excited about the seasons to be perfectly honest. But this spring is going to be a bit more of a challenge than most. You see, we added seven baby chickens to our menagerie.

Normally such small animals wouldn't pose much of an issue for a pet friendly household like ours. Dawn and I have raised ducks, kittens, puppies, rats, snakes, mice, spiders and lizards. Throw in the occasional wild caught squirrel and you get a pretty good idea of what we are used to dealing with. So, we thought it would be nice, since we live in a chicken friendly town, to raise a few hens for eggs and bug control in the yard. Little did we know that my desire for a friendly chicken with good egg laying potential would lead to such turmoil. It seems that the leghorn variety of chicken is easily affected by the promise of spring and they are mischievous as heck. Actually, spring fever seems to have affected every animal in the house!

The weather, like I mentioned, has been gorgeous, so I decided to take the chicks outside for a bit of sunshine and scratching. Normally I wait until Dawn is home to take them out but the warm breeze through the living room window was calling my name this morning. So, like any good chicken dad, I took the flock outside. Unfortunately the flock included Jasper and Sampson as well. They bolted out the door just as it was about to close and shot off into the yard with triumphant crooked tails. They are so funny when they escape. Their eyes go wide, ears are pinned back and they do the craziest sideways hop-skip as they come to a stop and survey the world around them. If it weren't so dangerous for them to be outside I'd let them out every day. But we've lost two cats in the past year to life outside and we aren't interested in suffering an additional loss.

So I located a suitable place for the chicks and set them down. Jasper stood a few yards away, watching me get the chicks settled. I figured he would be the easiest to catch since he normally lets us pick him up when he gets loose. I double checked the chicks then started to walk toward Jasper. The closer I got the more he calmed down and finally began rolling in the yard. But just as I was bending down to pick him up, Sampson came speeding across the yard like a small fuzzy panther and hit Jasper broadside. At first I thought it was a neighbor cat attacking but quickly realized that despite the claws, hissing and teeth, they were actually playing. With my plans to capture Jasper foiled all I could do was stand there and watch them race around the yard much like dogs who have been let out after a day in the house. Dawn wasn't home so I figured I'd let them have their fun for a few hours and round them up before she returned.

I shrugged my shoulders and said a little prayer to the cat gods that they would be OK. Then I turned back toward the house and noticed something rather startling. All of the chickens were standing on the ground behind me. They should have been safe inside their cage on the porch. Normally I'd think that such a thing was cute as heck but not in this case. I had at least two predators on the loose and seven prey animals chirping at my feet who are just shy enough to stay about a fingers length out of reach at all times. They are mature enough to barely fly and it turns out that the Leghorn variety is a rather flighty chicken. This would not do. Somehow, as I was taking their cage outside I must have dislodged it from its lower part. Sure enough, the cage was sitting cockeyed on the porch.

My first instinct was to bend over and start snatching up chicks but I stopped myself. Snatching at baby chickens is as about as effective as trying to give a haircut over the phone. What could I do? I scanned the yard and didn't see any cats. I also didn't see any neighbors who could help me either. So, I took a tentative step toward the house thinking that maybe they would follow me. The moment I lifted my foot, seven little yellow balls of fluff scattered in every direction. After a few moments they settled down and returned to form a tiny flock a few feet away from me.

I needed to capitalize on their natural instincts in order to capture them. What do baby chickens do naturally? They eat, they drink, they play, and they hide. Ah ha! I was on to something. If I could scare them into thinking they were in danger maybe they would run to me instead of across the yard. I thought back to my days in Wisconsin with a high school friend, Ray. You see, Ray had the ability to scare the daylights out of prairie dogs at the zoo. He would cup his hands to his mouth and make a soft whistle that sounded exactly like the far away cry of a hawk overhead. We used to stand by the prairie dog enclosure and laugh like fools each time he sent the lot of them dashing for the first available hole. One by one they would peek their heads out of the holes and check to see the coast was clear. After a few minutes of relaxation Ray would whistle and prairie dog alarm calls would fill the air as fuzzy brown bodies scampered off to safety.

Trying to look as much like a mother hen as possible I knelt down on the ground and hunched over creating a little space under my arms and chest. The chicks backed up a few feet. Then I let out the "hawk call".

At this point I bet you are thinking that I'm a complete idiot and if you are thinking that then, well, you are entirely correct. The chicks wanted nothing to do with me. I was the source of the sound and goodness forbid if they were going to go near me. Especially with me looking all hunched over and stupid like I was. All I succeeded in doing was to scare them farther away from me. Each time I whistled the little yellow mass of dark eyes and chirps would scamper a few more feet away. After the third try I gave up. We sat there, the flock and I, surveying the situation.

Then like a bolt out of the blue it hit me. I could prop the front door open and scare them back into the house! All I'd have to do is put the cats who were inside safely in a bedroom so no one else could get loose. I stood up, ran in the house and secured the remaining cats in the Zen room.

Back in the yard I resumed my "hawk" position. Hind sight tells me that it was completely unnecessary to crouch down like an idiot and crawl around whistling in my yard. But I was so focused on my earlier success that the thought of changing part of the equation didn't seem appropriate.

"Screeeeeee" I called and crawled a few feet closer to the tiny flock. "Chirp chirp chirp" they sounded their normal alarm and scooted ever closer to the house. After about eight or ten hawk calls the chicks were finally on the doorstep. All I needed to do was convince them to jump up the little step onto the threshold and close the door behind them. As I prepared for my last 'screee' call I heard a voice from the neighbors yard.

"You OK Mike? Ya need some help?"

"Um...no....I, uh...just a minute." I crawled closer to the house and let out the last call. Just as I had planned, the chicks jumped onto the threshold and I triumphantly dashed toward the house and shut the front door. They were safely inside.

"Ya know ya got animals pouring out yer house right?" the neighbor said.

"Yeah, two of the cats got loose while I was taking the chicks outside. Then the chicks got out of the cage and I had to scare them back into the house." I walked over to his side of the yard and wiped off my hands and knees.

"Well, I don't know bout the ones who got out with the chicks, but man, ya got cats climbing out yer back win-der an yer rabbits been runnin' round the back yard just playin an hoppin round like he owns the place."

My heart sank. Cold sweat washed over me and goosebumps dotted my body from head to toe.

"You mean....wha....seriously? Where?" I closed the distance between us with a screwed up look on my face. I was frantic. If half of what he said was true then I was totally screwed.

He backed up a few steps and held out his hands as I approached him. "Go round back an look. Ya got cats a'climbin out everywhere!" What the heck was he afraid of I wondered?

He wasn't kidding. Somehow Dora, Stanley, Chloe and Bobcat had managed to pull the screen up just enough to sneak out of the Zen room window. Milton the rabbit must have watched them because he either left out the widow with them or snuck out the front door while I wasn't paying attention. There in the back yard, in various states of play or relaxation were most of our cats and the rabbit.

I wasted no time and started rounding up cats. One by one I managed to pick them up and return them to the house. My neighbor was kind enough to stand and watch me clambering around, under and over my back deck herding cats.

"Ya shouldn't let em out like that if they ain't got leashes Mike." he commented when I finally had the last cat in the house.

"Well obviously I didn't let them out. They opened the screen window and let themselves out. Thanks for noticing it! Dawn would have killed me if she knew they all got loose." I wiped a bit of sweat off my brow and smiled.

"Oh, I called Dawn an told her bout it. Well, not Dawn directly but the office lady who answered the phone took a message. I didn't know what you was doin all crawlin an whistlin' in the yard so I figured you needed help. I called and told her people at school that she might wanna come home an git her animals rounded up cuz you didn' look so good."

"YOU WHAT?!" I shouted.

"Well it looked ta me like sumthin was wrong." he replied. "You was all crawlin' an makin' noises. I was worried fer ya!"

"NO NO NO NO! Don't ever call Dawn! I got everything under control here. Oh man. Why would you call her? You have no idea what this means. She's going to think I'm an idiot." I grabbed my head and started pacing. I had to call the school. "You got your phone on you?" I shouted. "Hit redial right quick and let me talk to the school. I have to tell them everything is OK." I jumped off the porch and ran to his yard. He backed up, grabbed his phone, hit redial and handed it to me at arms length. I reached the receptionist and gave a quick explanation of the situation and assured her that everything was perfectly fine.

Or so I thought.

Dawn arrived home a few hours later at her normal time. I was sitting on the porch, the chickens were grazing in the yard safely inside their portable pen and the cats were safely inside the house behind locked windows enjoying the air conditioning.

"Hi Princess!" I called as Dawn opened the car door. "How was school?" I put on my best 'welcome-home-everything-is-fine' smile.

"Where are the cats?" She demanded.

"In the house, why?"

"Where is Milton?" She shot back.

"He's in the house too. Why? What's wrong honey?" I quizzed.

"Milton is in the house? Like right now, he's in the house?" The look on her face told me something was amiss.

"Um, yeah, where else would he be?" I tried my best to sound astonished.

"Well if Milton is in the house then we have a strange white rabbit who looks identical to Milton sitting under the rose bushes not five feet away from you Mike." She pointed.

My heart sank. "Uh...oh yeah, he got loose. Um....yeah....loose." I sounded like the Rain Man and looked at Milton and then at my feet. "He likes outside....yeah....rabbits like outside....got loose....rabbits like outside."

Dawn just shook her head, swung her bag over her shoulder and walked over to Milton, scooped him up like a baby and walked him into the house. I stayed on the porch and stared at my feet. Dawn returned a few moments later. She walked over to her rocking chair and sat quietly watching the chicks. I was glad for the silence.

A long second or two passed without a word between us. Just as I was about to break the silence I saw the neighbor walking toward our place.

He must have been itching for a beating because he commenced to telling Dawn about the days events. I had to sit there as he retold the story of how I was humped over in the yard making screeching noises at chickens and chasing cats for half an hour around the deck. In true neighbor fashion he was sure to go into full animated descriptions complete with sound effects to describe my afternoon adventure. I smiled and quietly plotted his demise while he and Dawn giggled and laughed together. Then, with mission accomplished, he returned to the perceived safety of his own yard. I squinted after him and was going to plot some sort of revenge when Dawns voice caught my attention.

"You realize that our neighbors and my co-workers think you are a little challenged don't you Mike?"

"Well, what the heck was I supposed to do? I had predator and prey animals in proximity to each other and then the whole damn crew got loose out the Zen room window." I retorted. "Don't forget! You said I should work from home and take care of the animals. So that's what I do. I don't give half a damn if people think I'm crazy. Let 'em. And let 'em be jealous of our lifestyle. People would give their eye teeth to work from home and play with their pets all day." I thought I had successfully defended myself and figured I should quit while I was ahead. I nodded in self approval, set my jaw and stared off into the yard.

Dawn must have noticed that I was embarrassed. She stood up, walked over and sat on my lap. She took my face in her soft loving hands and said, "Mike, you did everything perfect. Don't worry about the neighbors. You are right. They must be jealous because they always have something to say about the things you do." She hugged me into her chest and patted me on the back. "Either that or they think you have a few screws loose!" Then she shrieked as I grabbed her in the ribs and tickled. Our laughter rang down the block and I'm sure our nosy neighbors ran to their windows to see what was happening at the Gonzalez house.

"Spring has sprung, the grass is riz. I wonder what's happening at the Gonzalez's?"

The Hougarhide

2013-03-24T11:10:00.001-05:00

Hougarhide: (noun) sounds like cougar-hide;

A poly-cephalic heavily built, bipedal, short-legged mammal thought to be of the weasel family. Similar to to the Wolverine or Gulo-Gulo in appearance but stands upright on its hind legs. Because they are elusive and horrifically ill tempered not much is known about the species. The scant amount of data on the creature has been collected and maintained mostly by grandmothers in Northern Minnesota and passed on via oral tradition to young children who attempt to play near a river or other dangerous location. A vicious and solitary creature, the hougarhide will immediately attack any child who strays too close to its lair and immediately begin chewing on the child's legs and feet with its shiny white chomping teeth.

At least that's what my grandmother told me when I was a boy.

Actually she didn't tell me directly. My cousins and I were "allowed" to overhear a conversation between our grandma Selma and our aunts. It happened after we were scolded and told to go inside the house after fiddling around with an old boat. You see, a few of us had snuck our way toward the edge of Lawrence Lake. A forbidden place! Our fathers were were in a boat fishing on the other side. We could see them from where we were and there is nothing more distressing to a group of cousins than to be stuck on shore while your fathers go fishing. So, like the Borg Collective, we decided to launch grandpa Walts very old, very leaky and very un-seaworthy old rowboat. We thought nothing of it but obviously our mothers were unhappy with the idea of five to ten year old children launching a guaranteed deathtrap into a deep glacial lake. So once we were rounded up and safely inside the house, we overheard the following conversation.

"Mom, do you remember the hougarhide?"

"Oh Violet, don't talk about that thing!" grandma exclaimed. "I had to beat it with a stick to get it off of you."

"Who else did the hougarhide get? Didn't Janet and Weldie get bit too?" my mother chimed in.

Grandma continued, "Oh it really hurt Weldie. His little legs were so torn up. I was lucky that I heard him scream when it got him."

"What did you do?" said a voice.

"Well I grabbed the biggest stick I could find. When I got to Weldie I had to hold on to him and try to pull him away from those chomping teeth and beat it on its heads as hard as I could! But as soon as one head would stop biting his legs then the other one would start! Oh, he screamed and screamed and I was crying. It even bit me a few times. Uff-da! I don't wana talk about it anymore."

"Yup, that's why we never went by the river or the lake when we were little. Does the hougarhide still live there?" aunt Barb asked.

Grandma replied, "Oh I think Norman saw one of its dens not long ago. See, they have to make their dens deeper in the woods because the river floods. Once a it finds a good spot it digs a den then it tears up all the little trees and rips up the ground so everything in front of its den is wrecked."

"Well, I just hope none of the kids get hurt by that thing. Do you think we should tell them about it or do you think they will listen well enough and keep away from where they aren't supposed to go?" aunt Violet asked.

"Oh I don't think we should scare them. They are good kids. They listen pretty well." grandma finished.

We were, all of us cousins, playing in the living room when we heard the conversation. You can just imagine the black hole of silence created by a group of cousins, frozen in place, straining to hear every word in the next room.
Our little minds were racing. Two heads? Hougar-what? Chewing on legs and feet and beating it with clubs? And what in the world could be so bad that it made grandma cry? Adults never cry unless there is a funeral. Did she think Uncle Weldie was gonna die? This was serious and we just had to learn more. The combination of fear and curiosity spurred by the conversation overcame us. All at once we broke free from the spell and for whatever our individual reasons, we had to be near an adult at that very moment. A gaggle of cousins poured into the dinning room where the women were enjoying their coffee.

Once we were located skin tight to our preferred adult a little voice broke the silence.

"Um, what's a Hool-gra, a Hoor-a-guide?"

"Oh no. You kids didn't hear that did you?" aunt Barb exclaimed in shock. Her change in posture and frightened look made each of us feel as if the damn thing was standing right behind us ready to pounce. The younger cousins clamped their eyes shut and buried their faces in a mother or aunt and the older ones, myself included, nearly jumped on the table. You couldn't fit a razor blade in the space between woman and child.

"I think we should tell them about it Joyce." Aunt Janet looked at my mother and continued. "They might as well learn about it so they don't get hurt."

"I'm not telling them. You tell them. If they can't stay away from the places they aren't supposed to go then they'll find out one way or another." my mom replied.

What in the name of all that was good a right was my mother talking about? This was the very same woman who won't let me ride my bike to the end of the driveway. Heck, I can't even take a rope into the woods because I might, "get hung up by your neck!" And now, this very same woman was willing to loose one or more of us to this two headed horror by attrition. My little mind reeled.

Over the next few moments and strategically placed pauses for sips of coffee, the aunts took turns explaining the hougarhide, its habits and terrifyingly vicious nature. Young cousins whimpered or covered their ears during the scariest parts and I noticed that even the oldest of us had now wrapped both arms securely around our preferred adult.

Those women were brilliant, wicked, and wise. I'm sure they fully enjoyed the hugs and unsolicited cuddles they were getting. Plus the rapt attention and quiet must have been a great bonus.

In time, the conversation turned to things only adults cared about and we began to relax. By then, we started climbing off laps and releasing our death grips and drifted back into various parts of the house. Slowly, the afternoon returned to normal. We chased each other, hid in closets, tried to sneak into the basement or got caught fiddling with the wood stove. It was at that point that we heard the dreaded words, "All right! You kids better get outside right now or there is going to be trouble."

I think I would have preferred an arrow in the knee at that moment. How in the heck did these women expect us to go outside when clearly there was an actual monster at large? What is more, Minnesota is the "Land of Ten Thousand Lakes" and that doesn't include rivers. I was old enough to do some simple math and it occurred to me as I stood wiping ashes from the wood stove onto my pants that the entire state was likely crawling with hougarhide's! Everywhere we looked, everywhere we drove, there was a lake or river or swamp or other equally dangerous location. But the women didn't care. One by one we were reluctantly shooed out the door.

Once in the yard the door thumped shut behind us. I turned and looked for my brother. I didn't have to look far, he was holding my hand. "Mark, we better play in the driveway cause its prolly safer then by the woods." I said.

Mark didn't respond but plopped himself down in the grass by the front door. The rest of us followed suit. And from that day on we were the most cautious children north of the equator.

In time, some of us grew up and had nervous episodes each time we got near water but for the most part, we went on to become healthy adults with our own families. And you can bet, that with each new batch of kids, comes another retelling of the story of the hougarhide.

Ten Days Without Dawn or How I Survived Alone with Our Pets

2013-03-18T07:32:00.000-05:00

Dawns mother had surgery recently. So, Dawn, being a good daughter, decided to help her mother during her recovery time. Ten days in Wisconsin while I stayed home and cared for the pets was not something I was looking forward to. What follows is a daily account of my time alone with the animals.

Friday
Took Dawn to the airport. Visited ex-wife and son in Richmond Virginia. Returned home following day. Cats unhappy. Litter boxes relatively clean. Easy job scooping. Rather painless.

Sunday Morning
Noticed that none of the cats slept with me. Strange. Normally they pile on the bed and I have to wrestle around for space to sleep.
Cleaned litter boxes. Much gagging. Someone poops big like a human. Better check what they are eating.

Sunday Afternoon
Cats fighting in the Zen room. Everyone wants to lay on Dawns pillows. Stanley, Dora, and Sampson seem to have won the right to lay there for the time being.
Cleaned litter boxes. Meditated before hand. Useless. Still gagged. Puked in mouth a little bit.

Sunday Evening
Forgot to feed cats. Sampson tried to pull all of the vents out of the floor and Chloe tore a hole in the wall paper by the food dishes.
Fed cats.
Cleaned litter boxes. Chloe joined me for bedtime cuddles.

Monday Morning
Chloe was the only cat who slept in the bed last night. Got up and saw every cat sleeping in the places where Dawn sits. Obviously they miss her.
Bear is screaming up a storm! I thought he might have impaled himself on something. Ran into the hall to find Bear and Bobcat pacing back and forth across the hall. Offered them cat toys and cuddles. They won't go near me.
Tension in air. Something is going to jump off soon. Better be careful.
Cleaned litter boxes. Found tinsel in poop. Where the hell did they get tinsel???

Monday Afternoon
Couldn't find source of tinsel.
Let Milton out. He ran down the hall to the Zen room and slept on Dawn's pillows. Tried to play with him. He buzzed and thumped his hind feet at me and ran away.
Jasper ran out of the house. Picked him up in the yard and he bit me. Damn cat!
Bear paces up and down the hallway screaming. Everyone try's to ignore him.

Monday Evening
Made pork chops, fried potatoes and corn. The cats love that meal. No one joined me. Everyone was M.I.A. the whole time I cooked. Chloe came for a few bites of pork toward the end of supper.
Missing Dawn like crazy.
Don't want to clean litter boxes on a full stomach. I'll leave them till tomorrow.

Early Tuesday Morning 2:00 AM
Severe shrieking and howling in the front room. Bolted out of bed to find all the cats looking out the windows and at the front door. Expected intruders. Turned on outside lights and looked out windows. Nothing. Returned to bed. On way back to bedroom Jasper ran up behind me and bit me in the back of the knee. Damn cat!

Early Tuesday Morning 2:30 AM
Chloe is under the bed growling up a storm. She sounds like a didgeridoo. Got up to see what was going on. Looked under the bed to find Chloe, Sampson, and Stanley in a Mexican Stand-Off. Tried to break it up only to get scratched and hissed at.
Screw 'em. I'm going in the guest bed.

2:45 AM
Screaming under guest room bed. Got up, went in master bedroom and closed door. I'll let them fight it out in the hall.

Tuesday Morning
I will never ever let the cat boxes go overnight without cleaning. It looked like they were trying to make small mud huts in there. Did they save it up just for this occasion? How can such small animals make such incredible structures????
Silver and blue tinsel in litter boxes. They must have a secret stash of tinsel somewhere.

Tuesday Afternoon
Forgot to feed cats this morning. Came out of office to find five sets of eyes staring at me. When I got into the kitchen there was a new hole tore in the wallpaper next to the bowls.
Made lunch. Let Milton out. Got bit in the ankle by Milton. Realized I hadn't refilled his Timothy hay from yesterday. He is spoiled, he gets fresh Timothy hay every day. Far be it from me to miss a day and expect to go 24 hours without being accosted.

Tuesday Evening
Went grocery shopping. Returned home to find a potted plant turned over in the kitchen. Looks like they took turns running and sliding through the dirt. Spent half hour cleaning kitchen. Forgot about groceries on kitchen table. Someone tore into the beef roast and someone else has an odd fascination with onions. Had to squeeze an entire loaf of bread into a Tupperware bowl because someone chewed through the bag. Whole pork chop missing from family pack. Searched entire house. Can't find it.

Wednesday
Spent majority of day at library and coffee shop. Scared to go home.
Finally got up the nerve to go home. Entered front door slowly. Nothing out of place. Air is thick with tension. Something is going to go horribly wrong because whenever I look at a cat they stop moving. Then the next thing I know they are closer to me like the Weeping Angels of Doctor Who fame.

Thursday Night
Woke to the sound of someone wretching. It was worse than the sound of a hairball so I got up to investigate. Found Bear on top of the stereo cabinet making violent heaving gyrations and noises. Suddenly he chucked up a waterfall of liquid directly onto Sampson who was standing below him wondering what was happening. Samson didn't take it well, he bolted into the kitchen and scared Stanley who was probably in there walking on the counters when he isn't supposed to. As quickly as Sampson entered the kitchen Stanley shot out, slipped in the vomit on the floor and puffed up with a Christmas tree tail. Instead of running down the hall toward me he turned and ran up the pile of pillows next to the lamp in the far side of the livingroom. Where he was expecting to go is beyond me. When he reached the top of the pile both the lamp and the pillows came crashing down. This terrified the remaining cats in the living room. Everywhere I looked there was a cat running for its life and they all were puffy with Christmas tree tails.
As quickly as it happened it was over. Complete silence fell across the house. Then softly, like a whisper, the smell of cat vomit met my nose.
Found Sampson and Stanley under the guest bed. Thank God for hardwood floors. Extracted them from under the bed and wiped them off with a warm wash cloth. Sparked up the steam cleaner and cleaned under guest bed. Found 38 cents.
Steam cleaned living room floor. Heard cats fighting in Zen room. Went to investigate. Jasper and Sampson knocked over my coffee cup. Steam cleaned Zen room floor. Found 90 cents. What are the cats saving up for?

Friday Night
Went to corner. Bought twelve pack of beer. Returned home. Locked myself in bedroom. Forgot that I would have to venture back into the main part of the house if I wanted another beer. Screw drinking. I'm safe in here with the door closed.
Scratching at door. Looked to see two sets of paws poking out from under the door. Almost broke down and let cats in. Feel like prisoner in my own house.
Crawled out bedroom window. Had to sneak in back door to get twelve pack out of extra fridge. Couldn't climb back in bedroom window because screen slammed shut and latched. I must look like a complete idiot climbing out of windows and swinging a twelve pack around the yard.
Front door locked. Neighbor saw me. Asks if everything is OK. Tell him "No, I'm hiding from my cats." He looks at me like I've lost my mind. Offer him a beer. He turns and goes back in his house.
Sneak in back door. Tiptoe to bedroom with twelve pack. Bedroom door locked. Overcome with shame. Sit in hall and drink two beers. Cats come for cuddles and pets. I know its just a matter of time before they kill me.

Saturday Morning
I'm still alive. I feel like someone poured death and hot garbage in my stomach. Head spinning.
Never ever ever clean litter boxes with a hang over.
Went back to bed. Woke to the sound of something crashing in the kitchen. Rolled over and wept softly. Cried myself to sleep. Woke to the sound of screeching and howling. Pulled covers over my head.
Woke up to go to the bathroom and shower.
Went back to bed.

Saturday Afternoon.
Took out garbage, cleaned litter boxes, made stew. Only one more day until Dawn comes home.

Sunday Morning
Up early cleaning house. Want everything perfect for Dawn when she gets back. Cats work against me all day long. Knock over cleaning products. Puddles of Mr. Clean on bathroom floor. Knock over Ajax. Green powdered footprints all over kitchen and living room.
Sit down for a break. Bear knocks coffee cup onto laptop. My litany of curses scares cats into parts unknown. Close all bedroom doors. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! Now they can stay locked in there until I go to pick up Dawn!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!

Sunday Night
Pick up Dawn at airport. Had wonderful ride home. Get home. Forgot to let cats out of bedrooms. Push past Dawn to get into house first. Let cats out. Dawn sees me opening the last bedroom door. She says, "Oh, I would have just locked them in the mudroom with the litter boxes and put the food and water in there for them if they were giving you a hard time."
Solitary silver tear wells up in right eye. Slides down cheek. Nerves shot. Glad wife is home.
Dawn sees holes in wallpaper and scolds me. Cleans litter boxes and sees tinsel in poop and scolds me. Finds a dozen empty beer cans in the recycling and scolds me. Finds kitchen plant on back deck half dead and scolds me. Finds sharp bone from missing pork chop under kitchen table and scolds me.

At that point I simply wrapped her in my arms and gave her a great big kiss and a hug. As I stood there holding her I mouthed the words, "Just wait, your day is coming!" to the cats. Then one by one we drifted back toward the bedroom and settled in for the night. And yes, everyone piled on the bed for cuddles.

From On High

2013-02-27T21:43:00.001-06:00

Went to visit The Neighbor Lady and her family this evening. They had friends visiting from out of town and they wanted us to meet each other. Everyone was very nice and we all were having a great time. The adults were seated in the living room enjoying coffee and after dinner drinks while the children played in the spare room off the living room. From where we were sitting we could see down the few carpeted steps into the spare room and we all commented on how well the boys were playing together. That is, until a wicked shriek pierced the air.

The Neighbor Lady shot up like she was fired out of a cannon, "Oh mah gawd! Whut's wrong?" and she ran toward the kids. The other adults followed suit. Children scream from time to time but this scream was blood curdling. I fully expected to see someone bleeding at a minimum and missing teeth would not have been a surprise.

About the time the rest of the adults reached the top of the steps they all froze in their tracks as if they hit an invisible wall. Suddenly The Neighbor Lady screamed a few curse words and all at once, as if driven back by evil forces, every adult turned and bolted back into the living room. The looks on their faces were a mixture of horror and disgust.

What on Earth had happened in there I wondered? Then just as the crowd was parting, a horrible smell met my nose. The smell was a combination of fear, confusion and hot poop. I gagged, turned, and ran for the kitchen. I didn't have any children in that room so there was really no reason for me to hang around. Whatever had happened in there was completely up to the parents to handle. I get wild when faced with strange feces. Actually, feces in any capacity, in any setting, can really put me off my game so to speak.

I came to a stop on the far side of the kitchen. Kevin, the neighbor ladies husband, was right behind me. I turned and looked at him. He was white and looked like he was about to barf.

"Kevin! What the hell did you see?" I demanded.

"Oh gawd Mike! I think sumthin' shat all over the kids!" His eyes were wild with fear. "Connor had it in his hair and Bobby's little boy might'a had it on his face!" Just then we heard a quivering voice shout from the spare room, "Stop touching it! Gaaahhgg....urrrp. Oh, gawd...its every...guuurp."

The next moment The Neighbor Lady and the other mother came out of the room holding their weeping children in front of them at arms length. What I saw scared me more than anything else in my entire life. There was feces everywhere. On the mothers, on the kids, it was on faces and in hair and on hands.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What happened in there?" Bobby whispered. Kevin gulped, "Um, I think sumthin' shitted all over the kids." I looked at Kevin, "What the hell do you mean something? We are the only people in the house Kevin. Are you saying something hovered in the air and took a dump on the boys?"

"Mike, I swear ta gawd it looked like they got shitted on from above!" he replied.

We stood there in the kitchen, three husbands each holding a mixed drink, looking through the living room, down the hall toward the bathroom where the women were tending to the children. We could see Dawn standing outside the bathroom door with her arms crossed. She had a confused look on her face. Once in a while she would squint and wrinkle up her face and step back a bit. We didn't want to imagine what she saw.

Bobby broke the silence. He whispered, "You mean ta say it rained poop in yer spare room. That jus' don' make no sense Kevin. That don' make no sense a'tall." I laughed, "Maybe you should bring the boys a change of clothes Kevin so the women don't have to track poop all over the house. Somebody is gonna have to clean up the spare room and if you try to appear helpful then maybe they won't make you do it." Kevin looked at me, "Lets grab some beers and go in the garage. Better yet, lets jus' leave. We got cell phones. Grab some beers Mike and we can go out through the back door." Kevin is brilliant.

I grabbed a six pack and headed for the door. I waved to Dawn and put my finger to my lips to tell her to be quiet. She waved me off as if to say, "RUN MIKE RUN!"
You could have heard a mouse pissing on cotton as we opened the door and crept across the back deck. We didn't close the car doors all the way until we were half way down the driveway. A few minutes later Kevin pulled into a fire lane and turned off the car. I grabbed the six pack and placed it on the hood. Then Kevin broke the silence, "We gonna be sum sufferin' son's-a-bitches when we get home." I just looked at the ground and popped my beer open. Then Bobby did the same and took a big long drink from his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, chucked the cap into the darkness and said, "Kevin, jus' whut in the hell did you see now? Which one of em done it? Mine or yer kid cause we got ta know who the hell ta git after." Kevin clanked his beer down onto the hood. "I'm tellin' you them kids didn' do it. Sumthin shitted on em from on high! Fer God as my witness I know whut I saw. It came from on high!" I laughed and nearly shot beer out my nose. "You don't have to get biblical about it Kevin!"

Just then Kevin's phone rang. He answered it and we could hear The Neighbor Lady reading him the riot act. She finished. Kevin said goodbye and promised we would be home soon and hung up. We stood there frozen, waiting for him to say something. He finished his beer, chucked it in the woods and grabbed a new one. "Well, first of all the kids were shitted on from above. One of em grabbed the dog and squeezed the hell out'a her. She must'couldn'ta been able to hold it in an' she blew like one of them geezer things in Yeller' Stone Park."

We couldn't take it. Bobby and I fell to the ground laughing. After a while we caught our breath, finished the last few beers, jumped in the car and laughed all the way back to the house.

Dear Cats

2012-11-24T22:12:00.000-06:00

Dear Cats,

Yes, I said cat's. That means all of you. I can not imagine that with all of the damage in the house last night that any of you are entirely innocent.

Let me run down the list of things that are absolutely out of line that you are all responsible for.

Why was Bobcat locked in the den? I shouldn't have to explain why its a bad idea close anyone off from access to the litter boxes. What if he had to take a dump? You are lucky he didn't make a mess in there! Actually, it was the sound of Bobcat crying that alerted us to the turmoil in the house in the first place. He sounds like a crippled tornado siren when he gets scared. Maybe that's why you keep doing it to him? I really don't know and I don't care. The next time I wake up to the sound of him or anyone else yeowling at 4:00 AM on a SATURDAY morning I'm gonna go supernova.

Somebody might get sold to gypsies!

Guest bathroom toilet paper. Why is it half off of the roll, some in the toilet with remainder in the shower and hallway? It's toilet paper. It's not that serious.

Master bathroom toilet paper. Not only is it ALL off of the roll but someone decided to shred it into the smallest of bits. It was also dragged, in ragged chunks, down the hallway and into the Dr. Pepper puddle in the kitchen.

Ms. Mousey's cage. Why is it sideways on the table? Her wheel is broken! It goes, 'squee-clunk, squee-clunk, squee-clunk'. I know it still turns, but do you know what that sound does to my nervous system? She did not break that wheel by herself. The wheel is made of steel! Thankfully she is still alive and the cage was never breached. I don't know how you did it but its your fault.

Refrigerator door open with various items taken out and sampled. No need to elaborate. But know this, heads are gonna roll. People food is not cheap! Neither is electricity. The kitchen floor was freezing and the water bottles were sweaty! And whoever was chewing on the onion...you truly are a dummy. There were open hot dogs one shelf up.

Brand new two liter bottle of Dr. Pepper in middle of kitchen floor. It was sealed and safely on the counter when I went to bed. I found it completely open with all of the contents spilled onto the floor. My mind reels at how you thumbless cretins got the bottle open in the first place.

I still can't find the cap!

Something tells me it was either a concerted effort by two or more of you or an act of God. And why is there an amazing amount of cat food in the puddle? You actually had to push piles of cat food all the way around the kitchen island in order to get it in there. Were you rooting in it like pigs? Its been there for a while too because the pieces are all swollen with soda. The chicken-leg shaped pieces look like turkey legs now and the tiny fish look like carp. A mess like that belongs on the floor of some kind of freaky slaughter house. Not in the middle of my kitchen!

What happened to the cable TV remote control? It was chewed to smithereens and lying in the puddle of Dr. Pepper as well. Half the buttons can't be read anymore! How do you expect me to navigate my way through all the garbage programming on cable TV in order to find the nature shows everyone likes to watch? You know the ones with the lions and birds and stuff that you swat at? Yeah, how the heck am I supposed to find them if I have no idea what the buttons do anymore? NO, I'm not going to stumble through every menu and every permutation of buttons till I find the show you like. Not gonna happen. Now we can all sit and stare at the radio like they used to in the old days.
Oh, you don't know whats going on during the radio programs? Well, fix the remote! Oh, you don't have thumbs? Well how the hell did you get the soda bottle open?

Cat food. Someone is going to confess to this. Who opened the cupboard and chewed through the cat food bag? The one next to it was open you clowns! All you had to do was look and you would have noticed it. Never mind that their was still food in your bowls when Bobcat woke us up!

God does not drink soda so quit blaming the Dr. Pepper thing on him.

Why was Milton loose? Who helped him open his cage? Why would you want him loose in the first place? All he does is hump you when he's loose. He is a rabbit. He humps anything that moves! The only one who seems to enjoy that is Bobcat and he was locked in the den so we know he didn't do it.

Far be it from us to save you from Milton's affections any more.

You asked for it!

You got it!

Normally we supervise his out of cage time so no one gets humped. But, from now on, whenever Milton is loose, he gets to wander around the house and stalk anyone he likes. Don't cry if he gets you either! I know it hurts. Just go somewhere and walk it off.

Sincerely,

Dad

Hurricane Sandy Update 2:19 AM Eastern, 10/29/2012

2012-10-29T01:32:00.001-05:00

Sandy missed us!
Unfortunately she will not miss our neighbors to the north.
I hope no one is hurt but storms the size of Sandy are bound to cause trouble!

Hurricane Sandy Update 4:15 PM Eastern, 10/28/2012

2012-10-28T16:00:00.000-05:00

Just got back from Walmart. The place is packed! Bread almost gone, bottled water almost gone, nearly every cart I saw had candles, bread, water, and other emergency style goods in them.
The people were very calm, almost looked like cows wandering around in a field before a thunderstorm. Maybe that's how it is around here. If there was a foot of snow on the way all I would do is buy a shovel and back my car into the driveway. They, on the other hand would loose their minds and prepare for the end of the world.
I guess the difference comes in when I consider that a foot of snow doesn't cause billions of dollars worth of damage and force tens of thousands of people to evacuate their homes.

Outside the wind has picked up and the sky is much darker than it was this morning. Everything has a silver gray cast to it. The Neighbor Lady said they were going to stay in a hotel for the next few days because they are afraid of loosing power.

"Where is the hotel going to get power if the grid is down?" I asked.

"Mike, power don't come off'a grid. It comes out'a power lines. The hotel's got its own power. That's why we go there."

"Oh you mean they have a generator. Well, lets hope it doesn't break down. I know if I was without power that I'd want to be safe and sound right at home. It's better to be home so you can protect your stuff if people try to break in. But if you want to leave your stuff to the mercy of vandals and scavengers then far be it from me to stop you."

"MIKE! Why you gotta talk like that? Who's gonna come an steal our stuff? Ain't no one gonna come an do nuthin cause why they wanna go in our place anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know." I replied. "Maybe they will notice a 5,000 square foot house and think there might be something of value in it. I'm glad my place isn't as big as yours. But I'll be home to protect my stuff anyway so it won't matter."

At that point I made an excuse to run back to my place. But, before I left The Neighbor Lady begged me to protect her house as well.

"I'll talk to Dawn about it. Maybe we can watch both places. But are you willing to compensate us for helping you? I mean, that's a lot of responsibility for us."

She cocked her head to the side and got a foggy look on her face. Suddenly she smiled from ear to ear and said, "We have a gift certificate for a two nights stay at the Hilton! If we give you that then you can stay where there is power with us. Will that be OK?"

"Sure! And then if we loose power we can just go to the hotel together! Do they have a pool?"

"Oh, Mike! Its got a pool an a game room an everything! This is gonna be fun. I kinda hope we loose power now! I'ma call my mom and ask her where the gift certificate is. I'll bring it over when I find it OK?"

"Sounds good!" I said and walked back to my house.

I don't know if the change in barometer pressure is messing with The Neighbor Ladies head or if she is just that goofy. But hey, if I get a free hotel stay out of the deal then I'm not going to argue!

Dear Sampson

2012-10-28T14:53:00.001-05:00

Sampson

Dear Sampson,

When I rescued you from "the scary house" I had no idea that you were going to be such a funny cat. The dirty people who kept you in a box when you were a tiny kitten were wrong for trying to stifle your spirit. Don't get me wrong, I think they liked you in their own way but it wasn't the nicest way to show their affection. This leads me to a very important point.
I appreciate that you are a little "touched" from time to time and seem to be driven by forces and motives which I may never understand. In fact it may come as a shock to you when I say that I never truly understand your actions.
With that said I want to address the episode last night involving the toilet and my side of the bed. Don't look away and act like something caught your attention. You know what happened. You did it!

There will be a new rule effective immediately. You are no longer allowed in the bathroom when I am using it. I know you are tormented inside when I go in there and close the door. But, let me assure you that I am not having fun without you. Confetti does not drop from the ceiling nor do balloons rise from the floor after the door shuts. There is no disco ball in the shower and dubstep does not begin to play from the vents. I am not having a party in there by myself.
The medicine cabinet is not filled with secret treats.
The only real thing of value in there are the pills that keep me from going homicidal when you act out. The bathroom is now off limits.

This brings me to the whole point of my letter to you.
No matter what you say, there will never ever be a good reason to jump in the toilet while I'm peeing in the middle of the night. Do not act as if you didn't know the toilet was open. I was using it you fool.
The light was on!
I mean really, how was last night different than any other night? We do not have a sudden infestation of poison snakes that you have to run from in mortal fear. There are no bear traps set to spring just laying around on the bathroom floor.
Somehow you convinced yourself, and I stress that you convinced yourself, that something terrifying was happening near or to you that you had to lunge into the air coming to rest half in the toilet.
Do you have any idea how scared I was when I saw you rocketing skyward?
There I was, holding a loaded gun of sorts and suddenly I'm trying to avoid you and stop at the same time. It really is a blessing that I am not a manual laborer with wicked calloused hands and a vice like grip. Oh, and if you think you don't like water, well just imagine my horror when I realized that suddenly there was toilet water in orbit, if only briefly, a few inches from my bare feet, after you landed half in the bowl.

The worst part wasn't when you splashed pee water on my feet though. The worst part was when you ran into the bedroom and jumped on my side of the bed, dripping wet.

Sampson, let me assure you that there will never ever be a time when doing laundry at 3:30 AM is acceptable. Giving you a bath at 3:37 AM is also right out! Screaming at the top of your lungs at 3:38 while I am washing you is also inappropriate. You didn't scream when you jumped in the toilet so I can't imagine why you would scream when you touch warm clean water in the tub.
You brought it on yourself you clown.

I have tolerated your midnight rooting around, opening drawers, pulling stuff out and not putting it back, crying in the living room like you are being killed for no reason, and insisting that you accompany me into every room of the house. I've truly done my best to put up with it all. I deserve a medal! But like I said, you are not allowed in the bathroom ever again.

Your feelings are hurt.
No doubt you feel slighted.
But imagine how I felt when my feet were suddenly awash with freezing toilet water in the middle of the night! People aren't prepared for that kind of event. In fact, that kind of event can make cats go missing if you catch my drift. So, I feel that my only recourse is to ban you from all future bathroom visits.

I love you. You are a very funny cat. You are a great cat actually but for your safety and my sanity I will enforce this new rule.

Now, please enjoy your breakfast. I have to change the load of laundry you created for me at o'dark-thirty this morning.
NO! I do not need help in the laundry room. In fact, that place is off limits too. Goodness knows what you could get tangled up with in there. Just stay in the kitchen and continue eating as if you are starving.

Thank you
Dad

Hurricane Sandy, 3:45 AM Eastern 10/28/2012

2012-10-28T04:37:00.003-05:00

Well, I decided to keep a journal of the events where I live and those here on the "right coast" as hurricane Sandy makes her way toward us. My sincere hope is that I will have the most boring things to report. Unfortunately I don't think that will be the case. The weatherman has some bleak things to say lately. They are known to be wrong from time to time but something tells me that the size of this storm is going to do a hell of a lot more than what I'm used to in Wisconsin. I think Sandy will make me long for "lake effect" snow instead of the trouble she seems to be brewing up for us.

I stepped outside to see what the weather was like a few minutes ago and its WINDY. It was a gust of wind that woke me up actually. I remember this kind of wind. Its the strange kind you get at the front of a hurricane. The wind starts and stops, swirls and seems like it doesn't know what it wants to do. Thunderstorms usually have wind that comes from one direction. Hurricanes have strange wind patterns in the beginning part of the storm. Its creepy and it's been blowing like this for two days.

Lets see what the daylight brings.

Selected for Consideration

2012-10-24T22:12:00.002-05:00

Good news!
One of my stories was selected to be posted at Rense.com
This is the first time I've shared my writing for consideration in a place besides my Wood Ticks and Laughing Fits blog or on Facebook.
I feel pretty happy! Maybe I will win or place in the competition? Fingers crossed.