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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 thirteen 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 two year old 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.)

Thursday, October 27, 2016

He Loves Me. He Loves Me Not.

Just yesterday I was conflicted:  Moggy, the Domestic Short Hair kitty Bandit and I rescued two years ago, has never gifted me with a small animal. (Yea!  But does that mean he doesn't love me?) 

When he kept punching out the AC side panels of our window unit, so he could escape I was crushed. I had spent all kinds of money on Vet bills, cat toys, litter boxes, quality cat food, and all the other trappings of a spoiled kitty. And all he wanted to do was escape from me. I was crushed. 

Then he came back and I was elated. 

Until he ran off while we were at a hotel in Florida. I spent hours calling his name. Worried the large free-roaming dogs might find him before I did. And then he came back. Once again I was elated. 

Finally, I realized he likes his freedom. I do as well, so I could relate. So I stopped fixing the side panel. It's now his official Cat Door. (I do keep a really tight reign on him when we travel though--now he stays in the cat carrier, in the SUV, until I have the room set up for the boys: water and respective feeding stations--Moggys up high so Bandit can't get into it, litter box and waste disposal bags and equipment in the corner by the trash basket, toys for Bandit, collapsible tunnel for Moggy, etc.) 

After Moggy had the freedom to come and go as he wished, I noticed he started coming home sooner. Now it's nothing for him to race me down the driveway and walk in with me. He's even responded to his name. He's even starting coming dcome when called. Both actions are very uncat-like. 

He's always been loving--but on his terms. When he's feeling well, he uproots Bandit from my lap. But when he's feeling poorly (or when I'm trying to type something on my iPhone),  he crawls up on my chest. It's been his safe place since we rescued him. 

All that to say:  I think Moggy does love me. So I was kind of hurt that he hadn't brought me any gifts.  But not really, because my gift-less state meant he wasn't killing another living creature. 

Until I came home to find a squirrel tail on my living room floor tonight. This is the second one I've found. The last one was small (like a baby) and I found it outside. Probably about a year ago. 

Once could be a fluke. But twice is a pattern. And confirmation that he loves me. 

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