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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

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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.)

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Rough Moggy-less Day

I had a rough day wondering where Moggy got off to this morning. I thought I heard him very faintly next door just before I left for work, but saw the black and white neighborhood cat--not Moggy. I called and called but to no avail--but I kept hearing the faint mewing--at least that's what I imagined. 

And a bird chirping. 
And a squirrel chittering. 
When I finally had to leave, I drove through the neighborhood with my windows down calling for him. It's a sight the neighbors are sort of used to--except this time it was daylight, I was dressed in something other than my nightie, and I was calling the cats name. My neighbors probably wonder if anyone minds me--nope! Well. Sometimes a Resident I've terrorized and who needs my assistance will mind.  On occasion. 

After work I came home and started calling a couple of blocks away. Once I was home I called in ernest.  

After a few minutes of the same bird chirping and same squirrel chittering (at least they were in the same locations as this morning), I thought I heard the faint mewing again. 

I looked up in the tree. No cat. Just Squirrel giving me what for!  

I looked on all the rooftops. Again, no cat. 

I kept calling "Moggy! Moggy! Moggy!" (The way people say "Here kitty, kitty.")  Which is the way I call Moggy for din-din. Only he's above responding to his name--he only comes running when he hears the "pop" of the kitty food tin. 

Over and over I called:  "Moggy! Moggy! Moggy!---Moggy! Moggy! Moggy!---Moggy! Moggy! Moggy!" 

Finally, I heard it. That faint mewing. It sounded like Moggy. Up in the tree. I looked up and saw the squirrel. He stopped chittering at me.  

My calls of:  "Moggy! Moggy! Moggy!---Moggy! Moggy! Moggy!---Moggy! Moggy! Moggy!" became more urgent. 

I shifted my stance and gaze. 

And, finally! There was my Boy!  He was a good 20 feet up, lying in the fork of tree limbs, softly mewing,  scared, and unsure how to get down that dratted tree.  But safe. Thankfully safe. 

But there was a problem. The tree would not hold me even if I could get my fanny up it. And Moggy was not budging. 

Doug and Harriet came to our rescue. One ladder, a truck, open can of kitty food, bare-handed tree trimming, slight mis-step coming out of the tree, and a flying leap off his rescuers shoulders at about 15 feet off the ground, and Moggy is now safe and sound inside, eating and drinking, pottying, and snoozing in the doggie bed he has claimed as his own, whist cooling off in front of the AC.   

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you Doug and Harriet!!!!  

In addition to lessons in coming when called, walking without slinking outside, and pottying while on a leash (the last two will aide him in practicing appropriate travel protocol), we may need to learn the fine art of "getting down"--specifically from trees and other places higher than Mommy's reach. 

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