Today's thoughts

Category: CREATURE FEATURES (Page 18 of 37)

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My! (Plus dogs and cats)

Retirement is not without Hassles: Red Eyes #1064

For the first time since I can remember, I just came home to an empty home. With the loss of our cat, Frankie, last week and the dogs at the spa for the day, I have the place to myself…temporarily. Soon, my wife will be home for the day following her meetings and I will have to share. I was joking with an old friend last night who is allergic to cats that he was now free to visit us again. About 18 years ago, he spent a miserable  night at our house in anticipation of a flight out of Indianapolis. Dickel drinking was not the cause of his red eyes! (See Post #260). I think we had three cats at that time, and I don’t believe he’s ever been back after that bout of itchiness!

It’s been odd the last few mornings not to have to clean out the litter box or wake-to the nagging “NOWS” of hunger. (See Post #1035). Plus, the only “red-eyes” I’ve ever experienced have been overnight flights. In fact, I’m on one later this week to New York City. While we were in Austin, I had trouble with cedar allergies, but beyond that I’ve had little trouble with the associated sneezing and itching. My wife has constant issues with perfumes and related products that give her uncontrollable sniffles. I’m admittedly not as sympathetic as I should be when she struggles with an open faucet of snot. I sometimes think that she is allergic to me or at least my lack of empathy!

“Red eyes” are too often associated with getting high. I was once taught to keep the Visine handy – “it takes the red out.” This was because I wore contacts for many years and so my eyes were often irritated, perhaps mistaken for the effects of smoking pot. Now that it’s legal, I no longer smoke it. Excessive sniffling can also be associated with cocaine use. Say no to snot! The fact of the matter is that “Red Eyes” could all come down to cat allergies. Frankie’s Sinatra-like blue eyes were frequently red in photographs, revealing the allergic demon within her. Have no fear my friends, Frankie is sadly no longer near. 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Routines Interruptus #1061

It’s a “Caturday” without a cat for the first time in our marriage. Frankie went peacefully to kitty heaven yesterday after 18 and 1/2 years in our lives. I’ve removed any reminders of her from the house that is now exclusively a dog’s world and feels a bit empty. Our two schnauzers wait anxiously for their “Schnauzerton,” as I wait for my wife to get ready this morning. After this family exercise ritual, our main goal today is to find an apartment. We have three appointments down in the A-B-C District to look at space. 

I’m often interrupted to move or reorganize boxes, as we begin to plan for storage. I went to U-Haul yesterday to buy some bubble wrap and protective plate sleeves. It’s been a tough week and for now, I won’t elaborate. I’ll just say that we have more time for travel and plan to take advantage of it. We discussed renting a car and taking a trip down to Lake Tahoe last night during dinner. The pups could go with us, adding a few more states to their impressive list of dogcomplishments. For once, Frankie, now an angel, will not be left alone, although she also had her share of extensive travel in the car throughout our many moves. 

Tonight, we’ll catch-up on “Movie Night,” after weeks of travel and wedding duties. We’ve yet to see Spiderman – Far From Home. I have some passes that need to be used. Our favorite theater will no longer be convenient, nor will our nearby Outback where we enjoyed ribs again last night. In fact, I expect that all my routines will change over the next few weeks. New running route, new restaurants within walking distance, new neighbors, and new retirement rules. Routine Interruptous!

 

 

Creature Features: Farewell Frankie #1060

Frankie, our apricot point, Burmese cat with blue eyes was born on February 8, 2001, just before my wife and I were married. She was our first joint purchase, spotted on our noon news show, and her oldest daughter thought that Frankie was an appropriate name because of the bright, blue eyes that reminded her of Frank Sinatra. She has moved with us from Indiana to Illinois to Texas to Oregon, crying “Mow” persistently every mile of our journey. We soon discovered that “Mow” really meant “Now,” an indication of her demanding personality. She could also hide like no other cat, even in a small motel room, where we once assumed that she had somehow escaped. We finally found her in the hollow behind a dresser drawer after literally tearing the room apart. A single “Mow” would have revealed her whereabouts, but also knew when to be silent. 

I just served Frankie her last meal. She will be laid to rest this afternoon after 18 and 1/2 years of life. I’m shedding a few tears as I write this because she’s been such a significant part of our marriage. Unfortunately, she’s been very disoriented these past few months and the thought is that perhaps she suffered a stroke that caused blindness. I’ve had to clean-up around the litter box, lift her to the food perch, and even sometimes help her down. She eats little but the chicken broth we serve her twice a day, and is down to about 6 pounds on her skeleton frame. There was a time when she would was part of the pet-pack that craved a late night snack of ham. (See Post #699). She stopped grooming herself some time ago, and as a result her hair is full of stubborn mats. Yet, every morning just before the sun comes up, I hear her cry for attention. “NOW.” (See Post #1035). This morning she was quiet. Maybe she knows that today is her last? 

It’s a major transition time for our whole family. The loss of my wife’s mother several months ago was the beginning. Tinker our 15 and 1/2 year old schnauzer pup is struggling with her health. We just sold our house and are about to move into a transitional apartment, as we prepare for retirement together. Soon, only 10-year old Tally will remain from the pet-pack. She’s still full of vim & vigor and will adapt easily to a new home. As pet care becomes less apart of our married life, extensive travel will be the next phase of our future. We will always carry fond memories of Frankie, as we have with her older sisters – Macy, Dimey, and Marilee that we once known as the kitty committee. My wife had many more cats in her life, but these were the critters that she shared with me. She also brought Chowperd Belle into our marriage that eventually led to the adoption of Tinker – hence Tinker-Belle. We also treasured our time with Roxie, Tinker’s other short-time pet companion. Her life ended tragically in a car accident. I wish I could have that sad moment back.  

Frankie will undoubtedly cry “MOW” on her final trip to the vet this afternoon. She’s led a long kitty life and traveled through at least fifteen states. Tinker and Tally will miss her, as we will. Tally will no longer find chewy treats in the litter box and Tinker will not be able to steal pieces of ham (now turkey) from her. Honestly, I won’t miss cleaning her litter box every morning or when she wakes me up with her annoying “MOWS,” though small prices to pay for her beauty and company. Above all, we want to make sure that she’s not in any pain, but her constant disorientation is disturbing and can no longer be ignored. Rest In Peace, dear Frankie. 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Thin Air #1047

I’ve been running at 6,000 feet these past few days, and it feels like someone is sitting on my shoulders. I’ve tried to stay on flat areas because even the slightest hill takes my breath away. By the time I leave in a few days, I’ll finally get used to it, as I push towards 3900 consecutive days of running every single day. At the end of December it will be eleven years of strapping on the running shoes every morning. There is nothing more challenging than high altitude running, since my legs feel like concrete and it’s hard to suck air into my lungs. It was even more difficult here in the winter time with ice on the roads, but this morning was about 60 degrees with blue skies. A hot air balloon sailed overhead to help keep my mind off the discomfort in my legs and ankles. 

I did a hike yesterday to Fish Creek Falls following my run to perhaps accelerate the adaptation to thin air. Nonetheless, I’m still not there yet! It took 11 songs and a few commercial interruptions on the radio to finish my slightly over three-mile trek. I was glad to finally take a seat at the lap-top and enjoy some writing time. My computer seems to be just as sluggish as I am – slow to react to both saving and publishing. Maybe it’s also a victim of thin air? I’m reminded of the book “Into Thin Air” by Jon Krakauer, who also wrote “Into The Wild.”  (See Post #929). Here I am in the “wilds” of Colorado, dealing with potential altitude sickness. It certainly hasn’t affected my appetite, after consuming my fair share of the Tomahawk steaks that were served last night. The higher altitude certainly isn’t making me feel thinner. My stomach is just another bag of concrete that I carried along with me this morning. 

My friends are all off at the shooting range, after a stop at the gun store a few days ago for ammunition and targets. I was reluctant to join them after my last experience with a shot gun. It actually went off accidentally and fell apart in my hands. Fortunately, no body was hurt. Guns and I never seem to get along, so I’m much better off just writing about it. Rather than target practice, we got in a couple of games of backgammon just after they left – that seemed like a much safer activity. I’ve yet to ride the electric bike or motorcycle, once again fearing for my life, or at least trying to avoid injuries that might affect my ability to run. It’s just a few more days to my birthday, and as the card I received yesterday so aptly points out: “Statistics show that he more birthday’s you have…the longer you live.” Skiing is about the biggest risk that I take any more, and I’m somewhat assured of celebrating another one because there’s no snow this time of year. Instead, “Run, Forrest, Run.”

Creature Features: “NOWS!” #1035

It was supposed to be a day of pet errands, but the groomer is sick. Now, I just have to get Frankie, our aging cat, to the vet for some fur maintenance. It’s rare when we take “old blue eyes” out of the house, but she badly needs a haircut. As a Burmese, she has a beautiful white fleece that is unfortunately all tied in knots. She’s no longer capable of grooming herself, so it has to be uncomfortable. We’re just trying to make her final days as pleasant as possible, since she has little interest in food and continues to lose weight. However, at over 18 years old, she still possesses a feisty attitude and a meow that sounds like “NOW” if her food is not delivered on time. Warm chicken broth is her favorite and she wakes us up every morning with annoying, persistent “NOWS” until we fill her bowl and lift her up to eat in a spot where the dogs can’t devour it first. 

Frankie has little spring left in her step. She can no longer leap-up on the bed or to her feeding loft without assistance. After each meal, I find that little is actually eaten. Her internal time clock is still accurate in alerting us three times a day without fail. The last “NOWS” of each day are for “ham time,” a bedtime snack tradition for her and our two schnauzers. She has to have it “NOW,” but most of it sits untouched in her bowl come morning. “Ham Time” has become shreds of sliced turkey in the interest of heart healthy for the last few years. The nightly ritual dates back to a vet who suggested that the extra protein was key to a long life. (See Post #699) It certainly seems to have worked for Frankie and for our old lady schnauzer who’s approaching sixteen years. It has become all of our pets’ favorite time of the day. 

As I prepare to load Frankie into our kitty carrier, I can expect non-stop “NOWS” all the way to the vet. On the other hand, our pups will have to wait for the groomer to reschedule and will look-on with both concern and curiosity as their feline friend Frankie heads out the door. She’s becoming very fragile with little meat on the bones, and I frankly don’t expect Frankie to be with us much longer. Although she’s led a long, happy, ham-filled life, I’m sadly just not sure how many lives or “NOWS” she has left?

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Spiders and Snakes #1026

Another beautiful day here in Portland. I shouldn’t be spending my time at the keyboard but rather in the great outdoors. The dogs are anxious for their “Schnauzerthon” as my wife continues to get ready. We’re now just one week away from putting the house on the market, 19 days until we head to Steamboat, and 28 days from my step-daughter’s wedding. August will be an eventful month, not to mention my 68th birthday. In the process, I will miss my 50th High School reunion with some regrets. However, after speaking with a fellow classmate last week, he will not be there either, so my circle of friends will be largely unrepresented. There’s no point in traveling 2000 miles to talk to people that I haven’t seen since 1969. 

I didn’t realize that it was Shark Week when I wrote yesterday’s poem titled Bark Shark. With all the hype surrounding the Discovery Channel event, there must have been some influence. I attached a cardboard fin to our schnauzer’s back for a quick photo in honor of the occasion. I should probably watch Jaws, a movie that made me cringe back when it was released in 1975. Now, if you want blood and gore you can watch Dexter, as I have been doing the past few weeks. Sharks could learn from him

Speaking of creatures, I saw my first snake here in Portland this morning. They were a daily occurrence back in Texas, but not as prevalent here. I was startled  when it slithered across the path in front of Tinker’s dog stroller and into the pond. It was just a baby garter, but they are always an unexpected surprise. My wife and Tally must have just missed it. I’m sure she’s happy about that, but she did spot some coyote poop. Tally once had an encounter with a rattlesnake that was shot and killed in her presence, She brought home a piece of it’s rattle and left it in our living room to the horror of my wife. Dogs are often attracted to the scent of snakes, so we were always worried when we’d walk the pups along the trails of the Austin Greenbelt. As far as I’m concerned, the only good rattle snake is one made into a belt!  It was at a time when Tinker was still frisky and a definite flight risk at the sight of any creature. Tally was only 4 years old and even more untrustworthy than today. It was an eventful “Schnauzerthon.”

The Jim Stafford song,”I don’t like Spiders and Snakes” comes to mind. In this particular case, it’s sharks and snakes, since I’ve yet to see a spider today. This is what happens when you go outside, rather than sit in an air-conditioned office and write. I’m not much of an outdoors-man, but on a nice day like today, I feel guilty being inside. I think I’ll go in search of some spiders, since sharks don’t typically lurk in the Willamette River or the neighborhood pond. 

 

 

 

Creature Features: Bark Shark 2 (Poem) #1025

If you read the previous Post #1024, you read about Tinker and the inspiration for this poem. 

Bark Shark 

It lurks not in water,
No fin on its back.
Keep your fingers away,
When it’s ready to attack.

There are no shiny scales,
But dog fur instead.
It could be hiding,
Under your bed.

It has sharp teeth,
And gnaws on a bone.
Don’t get in its way,
Leave it alone.

When feeding time comes,
It may start to stir.
Prepare yourself,
Should this occur.

It may try to stalk you,
Start barking like mad.
Be aware of that look,
Of being hungry and sad.

It smells your cooking,
Pleads that you share.
Whimpers and begs,
Fears you won’t care.

Don’t be afraid,
No need for scare
Bark is worse than bite,
When bacon’s in the air.

Beware of the Bark Shark,
It’s craving your food.
Feed it or flee,
It’s got an attitude.

Copyright 2019 johnstonwrites.com

 

Creature Features: Bark Shark #1024

Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of the “Schnauzerthon,” a weekend activity with the dogs that we invented. Last year we attended The Soulful Giving Concert to listen to a couple of cover bands and ended up buying a pricey doggy stroller at auction prices to support the cause. Ever since then it’s been the private carriage for our aging schnauzer, Tinker, and enables her to join us for long walks and what we call “Schnauzerthons.” I will run while pushing Tinker in her fancy Air Buggy while my wife walks her sister Tally on the leash. At various points throughout the route, we will switch roles, giving Tally a chance to run, or my wife will take both dogs and give me some solo running time. It takes about an hour to complete, as Tinker finishes the last several hundred yards unassisted.

Tinker is nearing the 15 1/2 year mark, putting her age at about 108 dog years. She got a festive new orange and pink vest (Vesty LeRue we call it) to mark the occasion. My wife bought it on her recent business trip to L.A. “Vesty” comes off every night after her last outing, even though she’s not nearly as itchy as she used to be when the metal tags would rattle in the middle of the night. We can thank the steroids for giving her some peace, although she still does some serious paw licking on occasion. The Prednisone doses we give her each morning and night, embedded in cheese slices, also have controlled her arthritis. On the negative side, it makes her aggressively hungry, so we call her “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” once input leads to output. She also has developed some ugly growths on her skin that Tally likes to playfully lick that leads to irritation. Fortunately, they are non-malignant -just gross. Tinker continues to move slowly, cautious of steps because of her cataracts, and no longer insistent that we lift her up on the couch or bed. It probably hurts too much when she tries to get down by herself. 

Tinker’s only motivation seems to be food. She lays around all day until she sees me headed for the kitchen. Her outings are limited to a short loop after barely making it to the bottom of the driveway for a poop and another few steps to the grass for a pee. Tally continues to persist in stretching each outing to the maximum, while Tinker heads back to the garage to wait for us. Sometimes she gets impatient, just as I do with Tally’s lack of focus, and starts to bark. Barking has become more frequent when Tinker fails to get what she wants, but it no longer includes annoying us for “elevator rides” to the couch or bed. She also has an occasional “poopsident” that has yet to become a serious problem. Sometimes I wonder if it’s Tally, but I think most of the blame goes to “The Poopingest Pup.”

Tinker continues to get a lot of attention when she’s in the stroller, as was the case this morning. She did bark and stand-up, saving us from a messy clean-up, so we’re always glad to let her out to do her business. The stroller is equipped with Wet-Wipes, just in case. As I write this final paragraph, my wife is fixing breakfast, and Tinker is barking at me and heavily panting in anticipation of a few shard bites. There’s a “Bark Shark” lurking below my desk, waiting to strike. She can smell the bacon in the air, and I certainly won’t be able to resist her pleas. Tally does not beg like she does, but I blame some of it on the steroids. I just want to make Tinker happy in what is probably her final year of life. I wonder how many more “Schnauzerthons” she has left in her?

I guess some sharks do bark like a dog and I’m surprised that no one has written a children’s book. I’m on it – but first stay tuned for a poem. It will be along the same silly lines as PigWhalea. (See Post #453). “Bark Shark” – coming soon to this blog. 

 

 

 

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Travel Dreams #1020

With my good friends in Alaska for the past couple weeks, I’ve admittedly felt a bit left out. I’m just two states short of being in all 50 and Alaska is one of those bucket holes. Maine is also on my unconquered list. It won’t be long now until my wife joins me in retirement, so we’ll have more time but less money to get away. She’s in L.A. on business, so I slept-in an extra hour this morning. It seems like everyone I know is traveling, while I remain content in front of the keyboard. The 1000 Places to See Before You Die calendar on my desk dares me to get off my lazy butt and hit the road. The month of July ends with Route 66 and a picture of the Blue Swallow Motel in Tucumcari, New Mexico. If I had joined my wife on the trip to L.A., we would have probably stayed this past weekend at the Marriott Le Merigot on Santa Monica Beach where Route 66 ends or begins – take your pick. 

You can still drive about 85% of the original Route 66, and personally I’ve only seen bits and pieces of its length from where it starts in Chicago. I’ve covered it through Illinois into Oklahoma with stays in Springfield, St. Louis, Tulsa and Oklahoma City. I haven’t spent much time in Albuquerque or Flagstaff and other points West like Tucumcari. Maybe we’ll have time to fill in some of those holes. We want to explore the California Coast for housing opportunities, although the cost feasibility seems unrealistic for a retirement place. The Florida panhandle is our other likely exploration destination at the end of the year. 

The “Calendar” on my desk always presents new ideas for travel. Each day is a picture of a desirable destination that should probably be on my bucket list. For example, Sardinia, Italy is an island just off the Italian coast. Italy always makes me happy, and we still have dreams of living there for a year so we can travel Europe and new French regions like Alsace near Switzerland and Germany’s Schleswig-Holstein. A little further away, there’s Jordan’s King Highway, a bit older than Route 66 and an ancient link between Amman and the Red Sea. I’d like to “see” that “sea.” Other calendar photos included Svalbard, Norway or Botswana – who wouldn’t “wanna” go there?

Our next trip is to Colorado for my birthday – but that’s still a month away, as I continue to fulfill the list of “67 Things to do before I’m 68.” It’s time to work on a new tally of goals as I look forward to another year of retirement. It won’t be until just after my 69th birthday when I can cross-off the #1 item on my bucket list – Egypt. The Sphinx is still waiting for my visit – and has been for thousands of years. In the meantime, I’ll work on some of my other travel dreams.

Retirement is not without Hassles: SunDay FunDay #1019

It’s just another sunny day in the glorious world of retirement. For those still working for a living, it’s also Sunday. My wife is getting ready for a business trip to Los Angeles while I gladly stay home to watch the dogs. They see Sunday as FunDay, anticipating their weekend Schnauzerthons. My wife leads feisty Tally on a leash while I run with old lady Tinker pushing her stroller. As we make our way through the neighborhood park, we’ll occasionally exchange dogs in a carefully synchronized spin around the pond. There’s even a designated poop stop, having learned our lesson about giving Tinker a timely break. She is, after all, “The Poopingest Pup on The Planet,” and the fast buggy ride seems to relax her a bit too much. Just like a toddler, we now always carry Wet Wipes just in case. Once I complete my just over three-mile daily running goal, I let her out for the short walk home. Today was RunDay number 3.864, as “The Streak” continues. 

Tinker was really gimpy today as she waddled along by herself. Her regular outings are very short any more and often she doesn’t even make it down the driveway before she poops. A few steps later she’ll relieve her bladder in the neighbor’s grass and immediately head home. It’s almost like clockwork. She’ll then wait in the shade of the garage until Tally finishes her business, and will bark if it takes too long. Last night, we had dinner guests and she was very impatient. The neighborhood was so peaceful and quiet except for her demanding bark. It was the most outspoken I’ve ever seen her, so she must have thought that with guests at the table, she’d get more food if she was loud enough. As we well know, input equals output, so extra baggies were needed today.

One of my favorite SunDay morning rituals is listening to Sunday Morning Brunch on KINK radio. Although it’s a subtle reminder that I used to work there, it was a mellow way to start today. It helped me get through a sluggish hangover from too much wine and too many barks last night. I won’t be outdone by the neighbors when I set out my glass bottles for recycling tomorrow. It will look like a job well done, after another of my wife’s successful dinner parties. It may be one of our last at this home once we put it on the market in a few weeks. Who knows where we will be living next? I’m sure the neighbors won’t miss “Old Lady Bark” or the brown spots in their yard. 

I’ll be on my own for a couple of days, so baseball, beer and fried chicken with a friend is planned. Tinker will have no one to bark at but Tally, as she quietly dreams of the next Schnauzerthon. I just hope that the Cubs can get their sh*t together after blowing a couple of key games this past week. I’m sure my Cardinal friends are thrilled. They are only “my Cubs” when they’re winning and the Brewers are taking advantage of weak relief work with back-to-back-comebacks. It won’t be FunDay unless they can win in Milwaukee today. Also, the fried chicken won’t taste good unless they can beat the Cardinals. If not, you’ll get tired of hearing my bark!

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