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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.)

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Unexpected


When I awoke bleary-eyed this morning I was in desperate need of the facilities; however, I couldn't find my house shoes. I have pedal neuropathy which makes barefoot walking very painful, so I shoved my feet into the nearest shoes I could find for the short trek into the bathroom. The shoes I found were the slides I normally wear to work. 

As I lurched in the dark toward the bathroom, I realized something didn’t feel quite right. Adjusting my foot in the shoe did not alleviate the sensation. Quite frankly, I have been having problems with the cheap shoe inserts ever since I put them in, so I thought they were the problem.   A remote second possibility, not one I wanted to consider due to the health ramifications, was that of swelling.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I turned on a light, kicked off the shoes, and did a double take—something fist-sized, brown, and furry starred up at me.

Luckily for everyone in the house, it was neither carbon-based—dead or living—nor waste product.

Evidentially one of The Boys had “gifted” me with a small floppy cat-dog toy.

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