Poor Wee Doggie...

Poor lil' Daisy. Her behind part bears 2 shiny staples that the vet. will remove next week. She is taking an antibiotic and such a strong painkiller that she can only take 1 every 24 hours. Tonight we put both pills in her canned chopped food and she gobbled it right up. She sort of zones out but moves around better with the pills in her. Elder Daughter said that earlier this evening Daisy was standing in her crate just staring into her empty food bowl. That's all. Just staring. She's doing it now. I mean it's weird. Like the last meal she ate made her feel so gooood that she wants to repeat the experience? Okay, this might be freaking me out.

Earlier in the day we saw two Animal Control officers. They came about 3PM, first to our house where we showed them photographs of the injury and described what happened yesterday. The Animal Control officers then went over to the neighbor's house. I could hear them honking the horn from the back of his lot (10 acres, or so away) and then silence. While they were across the road, a Deputy Sheriff came up in the yard and he will write a report for us. He also went across the road to see the neighbor.

Animal Control returned and told us that there was no response to their attempt to make contact, although all the doors to the house were wide open. They put a notice on the door. We haven't heard anything from the neighbor/owner of the dogs since Animal Control and the deputy left.

A friend who is also the County's Agriculture Enforcement guy had advised us to file both the Animal Control complaint and one with Law Enforcement. He also said we need to file a new complaint every time the dogs are seen off their property.

This morning Elder Daughter was walking her 2 pugs by the burn pit. She saw one of the dogs in our field across the road with her horses. Yelling and shouting for him to go home, she attracted his attention and he ran across to our side of the road and headed to the younger of the Pugs. Daughter said she began telling her dogs to go home and started toward the intruder, yelling and waving arms. That broke his concentration on her dog and he looked at her, barked at her and then ran off to his own property. When we spoke to Animal Control today, they issued another case number and this becomes the second incident report.

Isn't it a shame that dogs don't know what fences and boundary markers mean.

Given that fact, isn't it a shame that some dog owners don't confine their animals.

Who Let Them Dogs Out...

Yesterday I came home at the normal and regular time - after 5:00PM. As I pulled to a stop before turning in our drive - I saw a red and white Pit-Bull-looking dog run out of the gate that opens to the side field. That's the access to the trailer behind us where Elder Daughter and her family live, along with her free roaming cat and some chickens in a pen. The dog stopped in the road and stared at my car as if to say, "So? What are you gonna' do about it!"

Our neighbor across the road has a couple of dogs that I've never seen but T. keeps telling me they come up in our yard and he has seen them running along the road. He didn't think they were Pit Bulls. The other day, Elder Daughter told me she had seen them and the dogs appeared to her to be Pit Bulls. It made her very uncomfortable to have them loose on the road. She and her husband have noticed both dogs along the field where the horses are. She has children who get off the school bus and run to their home behind us. T. and I spoke about the dogs last night - I was concerned that they could get after the boys as they get off the bus or could cause injury to animals on our land. T. still didn't believe the dogs were vicious and at that point discussion ceased. Well, out loud anyway. In my mind, it was another matter! Humph.

This morning T. called me at work. He had let our little white Belgian Pug, Daisy - out in the yard and both the Pit Bulls rushed at her. In her own yard!

T. was able to get Daisy away and when he called me he was still upset. He is now convinced that the dogs are Pit Bulldogs. Elder Daughter took our wee Pug to the vet when she got home and Daisy now has 2 staples where the dogs got her. We agreed to discuss the problem further tonight.

The little voice in my head isn't quite chanting, "Those dogs must go, dogs must go!..." But it's close.

Time and Time

Getting up at Dark:Thirty is so hard. I have to do it if I want to get myself off to work on time and I have to go to work if I want to get paid. So I set the radio alarm to go off at 6:00AM and then I get ready, set and coffee by 7-ish. Out the door around 10 after 7 and the drive is on roads that go North then due East. That due East stretch is a bad one if the sun is visible. It's right in the eyes and the glare is something else. It seems almost an insult to have to start out driving in the dark and wind up blinded by the sun on the same stretch of road. Ah, but this weekend things will change. I will set the clock back on Saturday night as I trundle off to bed and come Monday morning I will be drinking my coffee while I look out the window and see the sun already up. It'll be daylight. At last, things will make sense in the morning.

However - the drive home may be another story. I'll be headed more West than South and the sun....isn't there a place to lodge a complaint over Daylight Savings?

Hello?

Hello, is anybody listening?

Things Change

It's October in North Central Florida and for some people, that means bikes and Biketober Fest. Bike as in motorcycles and riding them and going to Daytona to see the Daytona Speedway. Riding your Hog on Main Street in Daytona. Maybe parking your bike at a place called Main Street Motorcycle World. I learned through my reading on the Internet that Main Street Motorcycle World is a vacant lot about 3 blocks from the ocean. It's walking distance from the famous Boardwalk and Main Street Pier. That's Daytona, now.

In the Daytona of my childhood, we would stay at the old Fernwood Hotel which was owned by Captain and Bessie Crews and operated by Bessie after The Captain died. Our dad, who drove a Greyhound Bus for a living and had friends all over the state of Florida - knew both the Captain and Mrs. Crews. When school was out, he would call her to arrange a date for our arrival on vacation. Once the date was settled, he and Mom would pack us up in the car and drive to Daytona where we'd cross the bridge and make our way to the hotel for a stay of a day or two. Or maybe it was more. Time tends to telescope, when looking backwards.

I recall our arrivals at the Fernwood. There was a stairway on the left as you walked into the lobby and the desk was at the back of the lobby. There was a bottled water machine near the entrance and it had the coldest water. There was a framed poem hanging near the water cooler that said in part, "You are Welcome Very Welcome to the Shelter of Our Roof..." I am willing to attempt to quote the entire poem upon request.

Mom and Dad would go to the back and talk to Bessie Crews; checking in and reminiscing about old times while we children read the brochures on the rack or figured the distance between two points of interest by twirling the wheel on a machine set on the counter. Once we were checked in, we'd climb the stairs to the 3rd floor and unlock the room and stow our suitcases. We would often have time to change to our bathing suits and walk down to the famous hard-sand beach for a swim that lasted until our suits were full of grit and our skin was red as a lobster. Then we'd walk back along Main Street towards the hotel looking into the shop windows and eying the taffy machine in the sweet shop window. After our baths Mom might insist we take a nap in the room and we'd lie on the beds and listen to the fan rotating as it cooled us in these days before wide-spread air conditioning. Later, Dad would drive us back across the bridge to have dinner at the S & S Cafeteria where he would toss coins on the trays as the waiters set our meals before us. I always enjoyed the turkey plate there and must have drunk gallons of the cherry flavored juice in tall plastic glasses that were so full of ice.

After dinner we'd go back to the hotel and Mom and Dad would get ready to go out for the evening. Mom would give us kids enough money to play games and ride the Bumper Cars on the Boardwalk. We had to be back in the room by a certain time, I want to say it was 9:00PM - but she would give us permission to walk back past the hotel to a nearby shop and have an ice-cream sundae if we had money left. She would put our sister in charge. She and Dad would go on to the dog track and Big Sis (Ranger) would walk younger brother and me east along the Main Street to the Boardwalk just off the beach. We'd play Skee-Ball and other games and try to amass tickets to win one of the prizes available. As it grew dark, we could ride the rides and enjoy the adventure until we had to start back. The ice cream shop where we wound up our evening served the best sundaes. We sat in a booth that was upholstered in green cracked plastic and after we were served our treats, we'd play favorite songs on the jukebox with our last nickles. We were back in the room and asleep long before Mom and Dad returned from their evening. We felt safe listening to the buzz of the fan and watching the intermittent glow from the lighted sign outside the room as it flashed the name, Fernwood Hotel... Fernwood Hotel...Fernwood. I recall those days so fondly and had thought to try and find the old place one night while surfing the 'net.

Imagine my dismay when I read that the building was torn down in 2001. Despite an attempt at getting an historic building designation, the Fernwood went to a buyer who just razed and bulldozed the place. It's a vacant lot, according to the last information I found. And during Bike Week, it's a place to park your Hog while you walk around on Main Street, visit the bars, talk to other bikers and make your own memories of Daytona to cherish down through the years.

Lazy Days or Daisy Lays...

Late in the afternoon, our little white mixed Pug dog is standing in her crate making the whining sound in her throat that causes folks as far away as Alabama to call her "pig-dog". It's an irritating whining that gets chopped off midway. And, I guess it does somewhat sound like a pig. More than somewhat. Okay, it sounds just like oinking. I tell her to hush and she snorts and turns around on her bedding, then plops down with a sigh. If she's not disturbed, pretty soon she'll start doing her buzz-saw imitation.

She's a white dog, with short hair that seems eternally to be shedding. Her tail curls round and she has big brown eyes that are sort of popped but still very doe-like. She would look more like a standard Pug if she had the bashed in nose of the breed. The lady who sold her to us called her a "Belgian Pug". If you look up Belgian Pug on a search engine, you get back Pug-dog clubs in Belgium. There doesn't appear to be an actual Belgian Pug breed recognized by the A. K. C.

Okay, the seller had a Dachshund in her household as well as several Pugs and apparently had introduced the two breeds together in hopes of getting a dog that had more of a nose than a Pug does. She believed it was healthier for a dog to have even a little length of nose to breathe with. She succeeded on getting that conformation when this pup was born. Daisy has a short snout and a lower jaw that juts out slightly. Head on she is more Pug-like than when she turns sideways although she doesn't have the side jowls of the breed. She was the runt of the litter and her brothers and sisters were sold before we got there. So, we took this little puppy for Elder Daughter. Now, Elder Daughter and her husband were living in Orlando at the time and when we gave them the pup they already had a young black colored male Pug in the household. They would have kept Daisy but for the fact that she was so young and her teeth were so sharp. And she went after the male dog with those little needle teeth, nipping him in his most vulnerable spot. Elder Daughter sorrowfully told us they couldn't keep the white Belgian Pug because they might want to breed the black one and if Daisy kept up her attacks they were afraid she'd damage that prospect. We accepted the puppy back and have had her ever since.

She's a good alarm when strangers pull into the yard but she tends to be more bark than bite. Fact is, when she is startled - she falls over sideways and froths at the mouth. She's good company for T. when he goes out picking up pecans and will stay close by while he jabs the picker at the nuts and shakes them into his plastic bag. She knows she'll be rewarded with a nut or two when they get back to the house. She loves to chase rabbits who wander up close to the house. She heads after them full tilt and when they squeeze through the fence she takes her time sniffing the grass where they disappeared. We keep pans in the yard to water the various birds that come to dine on our scattered seeds. Daisy runs to those pans and drinks from the bird water as often as we let her. I think she believes it's a lightly seasoned soup provided by the management. She sleeps in the family room beside the piano and snores loud enough to be heard in the living room, right through the wall of the house. She's been with us about 12 years now. I think Pugs are not so long lived as she. Maybe the lady who bred her had the right idea about that little bit of snout being better for doggie health - if she had only warned us that Belgian Pugs snore so loudly!

Spring Forward and Fall...when?

We have a shrub growing outside the downstairs room. Well, it's only three steps down from the kitchen into what used to be a garage and that now houses a fireplace, a piano, a couch and assorted chairs - plus the dog and the cat crates. But, when you step out into the side yard, you see a shrub that is taller than my head (but not as tall as the roof). It is full of small green leaves that last pretty much the year round.

When the nights start getting cooler we keep an eye on the thing because T's cousin Delma once told us that the plant predicts when the weather is about to turn colder; bringing a freeze our way. She said the shrub would bloom with lots of small white flowers before the frost and then the blossoms would fall off afterward - only to bloom again when the weather turns colder. We've been through enough cycles of this winter behavior to believe what Delma told us in her country wisdom.

Last Saturday, I got out of our car and glanced at the shrub. It is covered in tiny white blooms.

The weather forecast for next weekend calls for a cold front to come in on Friday.

I own a Weather Shell. (It's kind of like a Weather Rock, only much smaller.) It dangles from a string tied to an angled plastic stick and will let you know if you're experiencing anything from from a light zephyr to hurricane gales. But the shrub in our side yard is the best thing around for predicting cold weather ahead!

Water Where???

I plan to be somewhere in the morning where I can watch the NASA Channel. There are a couple of space vehicles speeding toward the south pole of the moon and one will crash into a selected crater in the polar region - while the other of the rocket duo will film what happens. Scientists are expecting a visible plume of matter to rise out of the crater and be visible against the sunlight. The mother ship that is filming the plume will then fly through the debris and analyse the substances. Then that rocket will crash into the crater. The event will be covered by NASA TV and I hope to be there on the couch watching with mouth open and eyes big and round as this attempt to locate water on the moon takes place.

The event should be visible to ten inch telescopes in North America. I just think it's too chilly to sit outside on a lawn chair trying to hone in on the southern edge of the moon in hopes of spotting the debris rise. No, I can see myself in the warm living room, coffee in hand while watching this space epic play out. Just think, if there really is water to be had on the lunar surface, some day a grandchild or great grandchild could be sitting on the moon enjoying his or her own cup of coffee. Isn't that what it's all about?

Sort of....

It's sort of a gloomy day with grey overcast skies and droopy limbs on the trees. We have had scads of rain the last couple of days. Yesterday it came down over a wide area and was so heavy that we couldn't see much outside the windows except the pines swaying in the winds. Yet, in the middle of all the darkness, there are little glimmers of silver along the edges of the clouds.

Eldest Daughter's husband got back safely from the trip with Senior Adults at his church. They had a good time and the Senior A's appreciate him for making the trip so pleasant. My little toasted GPS device apparently made the trip a little easier and it only guided them wrongly one time. It told them to turn and then proceeded to update the driving directions as they passed the intersection. Perhaps the group wasn't listening when told to Turn Right the first time. Some of those Senior Groups can get a little rowdy. While the group was travelling out of the area, Eldest Daughter and her Other Half celebrated their anniversary - it's hard when you're not in the same town, much less the same state but I'm sure they'll use our gift to have a nice dinner out with the boys, now that everyone is together again.

Youngest Daughter's air conditioning went on the blink and the building maintenance guy hadn't fixed it properly when I last checked with her. The bright spot is that she knows how to turn the unit off and let it defrost so that she can continue to cool the apartment. Her father was in Air Conditioning and Refrigeration for years and both the girls have his fix-it gene. They also know how to change a tire, drive a nail, bait a hook and remove a fish from same. These are all skills that come in handy from time to time. Both are good cooks and are raising children to make a grandparent proud. Youngest Daughter sent a picture of her big boy, proudly standing on the back of a firetruck and dressed in a child sized Home Depot apron. He had attended the monthly children's workshop and then gotten a treat bag - which he later shared with Smokey the Bear. The fire department had set up outside the store and if there's one thing this child loves, it's trucks! Hoo-Ah!

As I said, there bright spots amid the rain and murky weather. You've just got to look for them. Counting blessings can improve a rainy day.