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The BOMB

Welcome to the BOMB.



The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

My photo
My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my ten year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Invaders of Personal Spaces

The inhabitants of Mary Lou's Zoo are not feelin' the luv this week. It's been less than harmonious. Invaders of Personal Spaces, which includes the air space involved in the dreaded Stare, have been the most flagrant violations of Family Bliss. Insert childhood memory:   Hey! Stop lookin' at me!  Maaaaahhhhhhhmmmm!  He's lookin' at me!  Make him stop!  Maaahhhhhmmm!

I believe relationships are strongest when you partake of interests common to all,  as well as embracing individual hobbies independent of each other.  Everyone needs their own space. So, when Moggy did not join his Brother and me in the bathroom this morning, I thought this was a good thing.

Naivety, thou beest my name. 

In recent weeks Moggy has indeed taken up a new solitary hobby--that of interior decorating. And he's quite fast. In the time it took me to brush my teeth and wash my face, he once again drug the pet bed across the room, and placed it alongside the foot of my recliner, tossed a couple of Bandits toys inside, and flipped the cat rocker on it's head--turning it into a Cat Cave.  Upon seeing said Cat Cave, I, being a sixties theme song junkie, immediately broke into song, "Nana, nana, nana, nana. Nana, nana,  nana, nana. Cat! Cave!" You're welcome for the uninvited ear worm. Blame Moggy each time you humm it.

When I left for work this morning, I recited my normal litany of:

Be sweet to your Brother while Mommy's at work. 
Stay out of the trash.  
No peeing in the house. 
I'll be home soon. 
I love you!

This morning, since the Snippy Snappy Attitudes were in major overdrive I added:
No bloodshed or killing! And then, because I want the last words they ever hear from my mouth to be, "I love you." I threw in a second I love you! I'm trying to say this to my friends and family as well. I tend to take The Next Interaction for granted. However, we are not given any assurance there will be another interaction.  I don't want to have guilt or regret if it turns out to be The Last Time We Spoke.  Therefore, I'm trying to end all my exchanges happy. Sometimes it's hard. But, it remains my goal.

When I arrived home after work tonight a semblance of peace had been restored in The Zoo.  Somewhat. Oh, I'm still stepping on cats, dogs, and assorted toys. And stumbling over rearranged furniture. And there are still angry voices raised when air space has perceived to have been invaded. But there has not been a Bloody Battle. At least not yet.

Alas, Mr. Rocky the Squirrel has not fared well I'm afraid. His crinkle-guts are being disembowled even yet now. It would seem frustrations continue to run a tad high.


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