Archive for the ‘Animals’ Category

I really didn’t used to do this kind of thing, this putting clothes on the animals. I made fun of it, and still do, generally.

But Bruiser actually needs to wear sweaters and stuff, because his fur is as short as the rest of him, so he’s always shivering. So it’s off to Petco for something, and of course it’s all cutesy, and then the holidays come… and I snicker semi-evilly, and we end up with something like this:

Kassie’s pretty stoic about it, but Sammy just wants it gone. Now, if given a preference:

But Bruiser actually loves it. And I’d heard that from other small dog people and shook my head at them. If I pull out some tee shirt he knows is his he can’t wait to ram his head in and lifts his paws for the armholes. In fact, he was NOT happy that the other dogs got into his act and made off with the goods…

Luckily he’s cute and Santa forgave him anyway. Hope everyone’s Holidays were merry!

Last week Sammy, big lummox that she is, let loose with some really horrible gas. Honestly, I’ve never seen (or thankfully, smelled) another dog like this one. It’s not her diet, we’ve tried everything. It’s just her. She can take the most innocent kibble and turn it into toxic waste.

So Sammy lets one go, and I jokingly say to her “Sammy! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Pew Pew pew!”

And, you guessed it. Pratchett LOVES the sound. So now, even when the dog’s not doing it, the parrot’s sounding the alarm.

I’ve been trying to get a video of Pratchett doing this so, of course, he stops as soon as the camera’s out, which is why it’s so far back and showing off my beautiful vacuum and the Halloween Harlot which has yet to get put away.

When I was closer, all he wanted to do was show me just how much noise he could make:

He’s got a real talent, as you can see. My favorite move is when he hangs on the outside of the cage with his beak and one foot and searches around with the other foot, trying to find something to bang around. I took this video first, before stepping back to get the longer one, and I even tried to get him to echo me, but he wasn’t having it.

I know you’ve got to be careful what you say, around parrots, but it’s kind of maddening how they’ll ignore the hundred things you’d like them to say and pick up on the one thing you said in a random moment. I’ve been trying to get him to say “WHO DAT!” for weeks and he couldn’t be less interested, but the dog farts and now I’ll be hearing about it for the rest of my life.

I was playing with my new toy and Ferd was watching from the porch, wondering what I was doing.The camera just seems to baffle all the cats who cannot imagine what’s so interesting.

a new dSLR! Whoopie!

Did I need it? Uh… what, exactly does ‘need’ have to do with it? The Canon had a great run, fantastic camera, and after 10k+ photos it’s been passed on to a wonderful new home where it’ll be appreciated.

But I thought it’d be nice to not have to carry around multiple cameras to get video. And we do a lot of night shooting, so not having vibration control has been a major PIA. Plus this one’s got a great tilt screen so when I’m holding it above my head shooting into a crowd I have an idea of what it’s looking at…

Need? No. But after all the craziness with the sale after all the drawn out stress of closing the business and the transition, I decided I’d earned a new toy.

And, apparently, Pratch thought he did too:

It seems that every kid, every where, just loves to play with boxes.

These past weeks have been a bit insane, even by the rather elastic standards of sanity in my house.

The dozens of boxes of leftover inventory were hauled out of storage, organized, thousands of items individually priced and set up for a massive garage sale (actually held in our front parlors) that spanned 2 weekends. Friends were enlisted/enslaved, Charlie’s patience sorely tested (but rewarded- with some of the proceeds I bought him a much drooled over Kindle for his b-day) and the wine (not to mention whine) flowed.

The dogs were confused. Well, Sammy was anyway- Bruiser took the opportunity to go dumpster diving in bags and boxes to find anything stuffed to steal and destroy, and the bigger the better:

The sale itself was fun, especially since we were primarily an online business- I never got to see people playing with the stuff we sold, and that was really nice. We sold a little over half- not bad, considering that a high percentage of the stock was out of season Mardi Gras decorations.

I donated what was left to charity; it was just picked up a few hours ago. Mostly I’m glad to see it go… all those boxes took up as much emotional/mental space as physical, and closure (trite tho it may be) is a very good thing.

But…well. You know.

Anyway.

Next?

Sorry, couldn’t resist.

Pratchett stole a Saints clapper and went to town on it pre-game on Sunday. I can’t say he gives a damn about football, but he’s a big fan of anything that makes noise. After the Herculean task of hauling the thing up to his veranda, he got pissy. He thought it worked like a bell and when he couldn’t get it to work he decided to break it instead.

Still. How ’bout dem 6-0 Saints!?

They’re well known for breaking our hearts, but the feeling around here is optimistic. Half the city’s hoarse from screaming on Sunday, and it’s only going to get more intense.

And lets none of us shed a tear.

A disclaimer: I am generally anti-death penalty- I understand the whole “I don’t want my tax dollars to pay for that scum to live out his life in prison” argument, but (guilt or innocence aside) since the automatic appeals process costs 21 times just giving him 3-hots-and-a-cot, I typically fall on the ‘let ‘em rot in prison’ side of the fence.

But this guy? He’s a peach. Let’s see what he has to say for himself, eh?

James Magee

Earlier in his conversation with the detectives, he attempted to explain why he had been enraged.

“She wasn’t calling me back, you know, and I know that sounds silly, but that’s the way it is,” he said. “I wanted her to talk with me. She wouldn’t talk with me.”

Magee chased his wife’s car in Tall Timbers, ramming it until she crashed into a tree, according to testimony from various residents who witnessed it.

Magee then walked up to her car. “Oh Jamie, no, no, no!” she screamed, according to Delbert Bryars, a neighbor.

Magee said he and his wife “were fighting over the gun and it went off.”

He shot his wife, point-blank, in the left temple with a 12-gauge shotgun, according to testimony and authorities. The shot blew the back of her head off, St. Tammany Chief Deputy Coroner Michael DeFatta testified Saturday.

“And then I looked at Zach. It was already bad, man, it was already bad,” Magee said. He shot his son twice, once in the back and once in the head, as the boy tried to run away, according to witnesses and DeFatta’s re-creation of the events.

Magee then fired his shotgun into the car where his two daughters were hiding. The shot hit Ashleigh, 8, in the shoulder. Aleisha, 7, likely was spared injury because she was playing dead in the back seat.

Explaining that final shot, Magee said: “I seen what happened to Zach and I just finished.”

Uh, question: if you’re “fighting over” a shotgun,hnow do you get shot point blank in the temple?

Then the coward ran. The cops chased him down in Florida several days later. That means you’ve got several states of good ol’ boys to pass through. Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana. Quite frankly, I thought the cops might lose a couple of pieces of ‘im before they got him back here…like, oh, maybe his head. But no. He made it here and through prison for the last two years and all the way to the trial.

Apparently he cried all day long while they deliberated over the death penalty. For himself, of course, and what a horrible life he’s had, and fear for his own skin. His parents argued that putting him to death would leave a hole in his two surviving daughters lives- that one day, they’d want answers and he wouldn’t be around to give them.

Personally, I don’t know if any amount of counseling would ever give me the strength to talk to the man who killed my mother and brother.

She was also my poor Zulu’s original owner, so I feel tangentially attached to this case. The papers hadn’t shown photos of any of these people, and seeing them was a bit of a shock, particularly Mr. Creepy there. And she and her son look sweet and kind.

When I wandered into Birds Unlimited that day, I found out that Adrienne’s mother had custody of the two surviving kids. She’d had a nervous breakdown over it, and the little girl was still in the hospital 3 months later. The mother and son were still in the morgue because the family didn’t have the money to bury them, and no one knew how they were going to pay the hospital bills. They were deep in debt and much deeper in shock, selling off everything they could, including Adrienne’s beloved birds, one of which was Zulu.

Please don’t get me wrong- I am in no way equating what Zulu went through with what the rest of the family dealt with. But I can still hear his little birdy voice booming in a deep baritone “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” and “BITCH!” and “I said shut UP!” It was a little slice of what went on in that house, and it sent chills up my spine. The terror in that house- human and animal alike- must have been beyond imagining.

It makes me appreciate Zulu’s spirit all the more- how he tried so hard to overcome his fears and trust again. Dr. Rich said that his crazy stress levels were no doubt largely to blame for his early death, and I’ll miss him always.

As for Jamie? I can’t imagine there are going to be many who miss him.

“But WHY are you putting this stuff all over the counters and not letting me play on it?? It’s not faaaaaaiiiiirrr!”

“And very tasty, might I add,” said Pratchett.

I STILL haven’t explained the mania that I’m gripped by at the moment, but I’ll try to get into that this afternoon. For now, a few pics of the pets helping me out.

Here’s Jack, playing his favorite game- throw everything on the floor and have the human retrieve it.