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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 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.)

Friday, June 16, 2017

Scene of a Homicide

I came across a recent homicide today. I say it was recent because fresh blood has a distinct "tinny" smell to me.  

In 27 years of nursing I have never encountered a more gruesome scene. I can't even imagine what the victim must have endured.  It's taken me several hours just to find the words to express the abject horror of what I have wittnessed, and it would not suprize me in the least  if I end up suffering PTSD just from witnessing the aftermath. Mere words can not convey the depth of depravity I saw.

The victim was so brutally murdered I was unable to identify their gender--only their hair and skin color.  Starring  at the evacerated shell of a body, I thought, "someone has lost their everlovin' mind!"  What sick, deranged mind even considers disembowling someone?!  To then spread the blood and guts all over the place is unconscionable.

Of course, there does exist the possibility I could be taking creative license and over exaggerating. 

Again.

Technically there was no blood and Mr. Christmas Frog was only disembowled of his stuffing and squeaker; however, in my defense--stuffing blanketed the floor giving it the appearance of powder on an unused ski-run.

I have been known to say Bandit loves his toys to death, but I think I may need to start saying Bandit loves his toys past death!


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