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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.)

Sunday, October 18, 2015

The Terror Twins Have Been Talking

What are the odds that I would have not one, but two homicidal Furbabies? Seriously. What. Are. The. Odds? 

The first time occurred a couple of years after Bandit took over my life. We were visiting Mama in Florida, while Mama and I went to town, I left Bandit in the bathroom. I made sure he was quite comfortable with his pillow and blankie, food, water, and a toy. When we returned, the toy, a floppy pink flamingo was in the water dish. I assumed it had escaped from The BaldOnes Death Shake (his favorite way to play), or he had tossed it in the air but couldn't catch it due to the confines of the small room. I'm not sure if he tosses the toy on purpose or if it simply escapes the Death Shake. For whatever reason, the flamingo was wet.
The second time occurred a few months later, while we were on another trip. I left to go to a BBQ place, and left Bandit in the bathroom with the same setup:  bedding, food and water, and a couple of toys. Upon my return I found a serial killer had struck. His M. O.:  death by drowning, with the intended victims being pink flamingos. At first I thought perhaps this was a freak accident. However, when I fished Pinky out of the water dish he came out in pieces. For real. Not only was Pinky drowned--his legs had been severed from his body.  This was no accident. Pinky got the Double D--Drowning and Dismemberment. 

In the ensuring years Bandits violence has escalated. He has progressed to the Tripple D Stage:   Drowning, Dismemberment, and Disembowlment. Returning to his carnage is never a pretty picture. 

The destruction of his toys is not the only way he conveys his displeasure with me. A time or two I have come home, to find shredded socks and drowned night clothes. He had to drag my night clothes through three rooms to his water dish.  He was not assigned the chore of doing the laundry, so I finally got it. He was angry with me. 

In an attempt to connect with the "why" of his outrageous behavior, I thought back to his pre-bathroom confinement.  He used to roam the hotel rooms free, just like he does at home. However, one night I returned from dinner out, to find he had peed on my pillow.  Since I knew he had pottied before I left, and I had only been gone a couple of hours, I deduced he was pissed off at me. Pun intended. 

From that time on, when left alone in a hotel, he is confined to the bathroom. 

Until we adopted Moggy. 

With the addition of Moggy, Bandit has a playmate. Or someone to hide under the covers from, depending on how well they are getting along at that particular time. 

Our new morning routine:  I take Bandit outside, while  Moggy eats his kitten food in peace. Once Bandit and I return, I feed Bandit, then I get ready before I leave for the day.  If the night before included a late night potty break for the BadBoy, I might get ready first, then take Bandit outside. However, the constant is Moggy being fed in peace while Bandit goes outside.

Thursday was such a night. After I lost at Bunko (yet again), I returned home and took care of some chores, then I took Bandit outside for a late night potty-break.  Friday morning I bathed and dressed for the day before I took Bandit outside.  When we returned,  I found my night gown in the water dish again. 

Moggy had motive, means, and opportunity. 

Bandit had an airtight alibi. 

However, I do not for one second believe Bandit is totally innocent. I'm pretty sure the TerrorTwins have been talking. 


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