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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, April 13, 2016

It Started With the Attack of the Lady Bug.

It all started with the sneak attack of a Lady Bug. I call it a  sneak attack  because I did not initially realize I was under attack until sometime between the opossum glaring at me from atop the privacy fence, and the grackle swooping to me to buzz my ear as I ducked inside the hospital. I guess the  squirrel chittering angrily from a low hanging tree branch just over my left shoulder could have provided the diversion the Lady Bug required to secretly attach herself to me without my knowledge. But personally, I think she launched herself at me while I dealt with the hissing stray cat--I'm not sure if he's feral or just a meanie with cattitude.  Ultimately, it doesn't matter--the fact is, the Lady Bug didn't make her presence known, or at least I was unaware of her presence, until I drove through early morning detour traffic--that's when I felt her crawling on my wrist. 

No freakin' out for me. Especially not while driving.  I deftly caught her and held her in my loosely closed hand. Driving one-handed through town, I searched for a safe place to release her. I checked the clock. As usual, I was running late.  I really didn't have time for a rescue mission. She's got wings--I'll just toss her out the window, and she can fly to safety. I rationalized.  

But from the time I saw a cartoon where an injured insect was tossed to and fro, after it got caught in the air drafts caused by rush hour traffic, I worry about air drafts knocking winged things to their premature death. 

I considered releasing Lady Bug at the stoplight, but we weren't stopped long enough--besides, the middle of four lanes is dangerous and I couldn't ensure her safety. I checked the clock again. Surely I could find a safe release place between the stoplight and work. 

As an afterthought, I realized the car wash with picnic tables was just a block away, and it met my requirements:  It was on my way to work, the picnic tables, sitting beneath shade trees, were protected--it would be a safe place for Lady Bug. 

Swerving single-handedly I changed lanes, and slamming on the brakes so I could make the turn, I left a wake of horn-honking drivers behind me.  I found the perfect place--a shade tree, with a low hanging branch that I could easily reach without even getting out of the SUV. I powered the window down, and opened my hand to release.....nothing. Lady Bug had flown the coop.  She was still in the SUV. But where?  I checked the clock. I didn't have time to waste looking for her. 

I drove to work and parked the SUV as I considered The Lady Bug Dilemma.  I did not know where Lady Bug got off to--other than being trapped inside my SUV.  Because I have a soft heart (I didn't want her to die a slow baking death in a Texas-hot vehicle).  I also have an even softer head (it was an overcast and cool day, with a high probability of rain, so she would likely be okay), but I decided to leave the window cracked anyway--so she would have an escape route in case the weather forecasters were wrong and the sun cane out and attempted to fry everything.  

However, I do have an ounce of  self-preservation.  I couldn't risk leaving the moon roof open--I might come back to an aquarium on wheels.  The passenger seat is always occupied--this week with audio books--and I'm pretty sure the Public Library would not like wet discs. Bandit is pretty persnickety, and it's a safe bet to say he would not appreciate a wet cushion on his box.  Besides, I haven't washed his cushion in quite a while, so I'm pretty sure if the cushion gets wet, it would smell like wet dog until I could wash and dry it at the laundry.  You wouldn't think a hairless dog would produce a dog smell-but you'd be wrong. Bandit's window remained up as well. There was no way I was leaving my window down--if I did, I'm thinking it would mean I would likely have to endure riding home in puddle-sitting discomfort.  

So, I did the only thing I could do--I chose the only option left...I cracked the remaining window for Lady Bug. I hope she finds her way out, and the rain holds off until I ensure she has been set free.  

Otherwise, as retaliation tonight, my recue cat Moggy will probably  move--from sleeping curled up on my chest  with his head tucked under my chin--to languidly stretching out his legs so he can cover my nose and smother me with his paws while I sleep. 

When the grackle buzzed me, I wondered if I awakened  in a campy Chevy Chase comedy. Something like:   National Lampoon's Attack of the Killer Wildlife! 

And it all started innocently enough with the attack of the Lady Bug. 

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