I’ve been pedaling as fast as I can lately. I’m getting ready to start a new book on Monday so this week has been dedicated to getting everything done on my To Do list, as well as cleaning up my Evernote files. I have over 5000 notes, so that has been a bear.
Stanley has had a hard time meeting his FitBark activity quota for the past few days. He is a sleepy, furry pillow in the morning, even when I’m trying to work. I’ve gotten good at typing in odd positions. 🙂
I’m changing what I eat, too – more on that, later – but it required me to clean out my pantry, refrigerator, and freezer. My son was the recipient of a lot of stuff. He moved last weekend. It was a breeze, except that his stackable washer broke in the process. I’m not surprised. It went down two flights of stairs and then up two flights of stairs. Something probably got shaken loose. The repairman is coming on Monday.
Did you hear about Hill’s recall of their canned food back in January? Well, they’ve added more foods to the list. Evidently, the problem is excess Vitamin D. Here’s the link to check if you have any of the food. https://www.hillspet.com/productlist#list In a recent conversation with my vet he said that even the big manufacturers of pet food have problems with contaminants. It makes me think that I should go to The Farmer’s Dog or Ollie’s. The cost is about $200.00 a month, however.
Speaking of Ollie’s, they had a survey and came up with the top ten dog names so far in 2019:
Stanley is upset that he’s not listed. (But the following video woke him up. 🙂 )
I talk to my dogs. In fact, I have long conversations with my dogs.
We discuss books, manuscripts, the wind, their habits, and sometimes people. Occasionally, we opine about politics.
Flash was the brilliant, silent type. He nodded sagely from time to time. Lovey, pre-Flash, was more a leaner than a talker. Whenever I talked to Lovey she came and leaned against me. My first dog as an adult, Lawana, was a terrier/chihuahua who always came and sat on my lap to stare at me as I was talking, almost as if she was trying to understand each word.
Stanley is a growling, barky listener. He has a lot of comments to offer. He knows time, too. Whenever 10:00 AM rolls around he comes to me and barks. It’s time for his B.O.N.E. now, please. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. He will interrupt to tell me that I’ve messed up. It’s 10. Where’s the bone?
Stanley did something the other day when my son was here that just fascinated me. John and I stood there watching him in absolute amazement.
A squirrel popped up to the top of the fence and sat there on the ledge watching Stanley. He went into retriever mode. His body stiffened. His tail curled. His back foot halted in the act of lifting. He was Statue Dog.
The squirrel locked eyes with him and stared. Stanley stared back. Neither one of them moved for three solid minutes. I know, because I kept looking at the clock. Finally, the squirrel moved and Stanley went after him in an explosion of fury.
I’ve seen him do that occasionally. He goes on point, just like a retriever. None of my research into terriers discusses that kind of behavior so I guess I’ll just have to add that to the other odd things Stanley does.
Do your pets do things out of character for their breed?
He has done significant damage to my chimney – as referenced in the picture – but only screwed up the insulation, not the wiring. Plus, there was some fecal matter, but not oodles.
What the nice man from Varmint Masters (really liked the guy – Stanley tried to eat him before he was put in time out in my office) said was that the office was a perfect location for the raccoon. He could hide in the sections to the side, where the ceiling drops off.
Here’s a picture of the ceiling:
Getting rid of said raccoon is not a cheap process, but it’s worth it if I don’t have to hear the footprints on the ceiling and the scrabbling around.
After he or she has been caught, the chimney will be flashed in metal all the way around to prevent this from happening again. The last step is to sanitize the attic.
I was warned that when the raccoon was trapped that it wasn’t going to be a silent experience. He would not be a happy camper. As long as I KNOW what those noises are, I’m okay. It’s the spooky 4:30 AM sounds that bother me.