Yeeee-HAW!

Well, it's hot again. Forget the charming Southern expression, "a little warm." It's hot. There is a fortunate cooling breeze in the shade, but the ground is baked brown and hard and the grass has flat out given up and died. Hot.

I don't want to bore my gentle readers to distraction with yet more Stupid City Squirrels (SCS's)and Outdoor Cats the Bane of our Existence stories. This morning our walks were adventures, like the African safaris of the 1920's. I would not have been the tiniest bit surprised if Tarzan himself had swung over Harrison Street and landed on the roof of Kijsa's Art Gallery and pounded his chest with the hand that wasn't holding on to, oh shoot, what was Tarzan's chimp-friend's name? Tarzan, Jane, Boy...

Ha! I googled it. Do you know the answer? Man, poor Tarzan needed some more English lessons: his Chimp buddy's name was Cheeta. Hey Tarz, that's not even close. In fact I think that's like naming your pet steer "Meat Processing Plant"! Don't cheetahs hunt and eat chimpanzees? I'm not going to google that, the photos would be way too disturbing for me.



So back to what I'm not going to bore you with - this morning's walks. There is a tall brick wall that borders the sidewalk on the back half of our block, so as you walk down Eighth Street you can't see around the corner to know if anyone is approaching on Harrison. I was late starting the first walk, because we had a very nice visit with a neighbor first thing this morning. I think it was around seven. I don't know, because I hadn't had enough coffee yet to do the higher brain functions like telling time. He stopped by to invite Bill to go along to the Antique Gas and Steam Engine Show in town. Bill couldn't go, so Allan stayed for a cuppa and visited for a bit. What a treat! And Allan likes the dogs, too. It's funny serving Allan coffee, because Allan and Johanna own the very cool coffee shop, Et Cetera. I went there yesterday and had a delicious cup of Organic Fair Trade Love Buzz (dark roast, full bodied, robust) and a fruit and yogurt and granola parfait. (I am addicted to those daggone fruit and yogurt parfaits.) But when Allan came to visit somewhere in the vicinity of seven this morning I gave him a cup of Folgers (gold lid med-dark). Well, it was still a very nice visit.



Back to that story I'm not going to tell you. As I got to the end of our block with the Two Oldest (whose combined ages equal twenty six years) at that corner you can't see around, a neighbor with his young, male American Bulldog (or Pit Bull) appeared from behind the corner wall, not five yards from the astonished noses of the Two Oldest. I gasped, "OH..." but luckily the visit with Allan afforded me enough coffee to be sufficiently awake to stop myself before the expletive flew out of my mouth. I don't know what the breed of this dog is. He has cropped ears of a Pit Bull, but the size and build of an American Bulldog, and weighs - I'm guessing - about ninety to one hundred and twenty pounds. Maybe more. His owner has done a good job of training him, as he used to be very dog aggressive, and I have watched his owner work hard with him. I don't think he even barked today. Lunged, but didn't bark. Too much, anyway. Maria did once, but I really couldn't blame her, because she hadn't had any coffee, and I really think it was just her "Gasp, oh .... [expletive]" surprise reaction. I know we were all awake then.



And I don't need to tell you about the ten, count 'em ten, SCS's on Lorrie's front yard. Lorrie has moved to be with family and the abandoned cats she had been caring for moved away as well. So it is Happy Hour with all the acorns you can eat at the oak tree at Lorrie's. The Stupid City Squirrels must get drunk on acorns. My Two Oldest were being so good, with all those SCS's totally dissing them and swishing their furry tails and daring them. The old dogs were leaping (never good) and twisting (worse yet) but they were not barking, and I kept giving them treats. Good quiet dogs! In the mean time I was stamping my feet and yelling "SHEW dammit" to no avail. Finally I got so mad that I let the Two Oldest toddle at the vermin, with me running behind, hollering "HA! TAKE THAT YOU FREAKIN' MONSTER RODENT CREEPHEAD MORNING WRECKERS! HA HA HA HA HA HA!!! SCARED THE POOP OUT OF YOU DIDN'T WE!!! HA HA HA HA HA. Yeeee-HAAAAA!"

The Two Oldest looked at me in wonderment. Unfortunately, so did the startled person who was waiting at the stop sign in her car. Innocently waiting for me, with my two skinny dogs to cross the street. Being polite. And then watching while I take off with my dogs into the grass right there, and start madly screaming, aiming the dogs at all the cute little squirrels, which scatter like marbles in an earthquake, and then the woman in the car hears me screaming and spitting and doing the Howard Dean yee-haw. And sees me do some kind of knee stomping twirly victory dance. And at that point she forgot all about being polite, gunned her car through the intersection, and stared wide-eyed at me as she flew by. She was probably wide awake then too.

And I know you don't want to hear about the four cats that graced the next walk. Or the SCS that ran down the telephone pole to greet the dogs on the last walk. So I won't tell you about it. But I will tell you that other than Maria's one woof at the seismic disturbance that was the magically appearing Pit Bull, no one barked, no one pulled my arms out of their sockets, no one bit each other because they couldn't bite anything else.

Dang! We're making progress. Yeeee-HAAAAAAW!