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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 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.)

Saturday, July 1, 2017

Splat!

Splat!
"Mah-gee!"
Moggy sits on the dining room table staring inperiously down his nose in my general direction.

"Stop doing that!"
It takes the hauty statue a full five-seconds to close his eyes.  I begin my reverse 10-count, for the umptenth time tonight...

"Ten-mississippi...nine-..."
On the backside of the nine, his eyes close...

"...-mississippi..."
...and remain closed as the numbers dwindle...dwindle...dwindle...in fac, they remain closed so long I consider placing a mirror beneath his nose to check for breathing.

"Four-mississippi..."
Without disturbing his head or ramrod spine, he slowly shifts his eyes until they lock directly on mine. Only then does his front left paw extend as he tap-taps lightening-fast--

 I watch, mouth agape, as the newly sorted receipts flutter off the table, and haphazardly fall into a jumble joining an open book, three bookmarks (none gainfully employed), a sales catalogue, sadoku book with mechanical pencil clipped inside and holding my place  as if it were a bookmark, and a bag of recently refilled prescription bottles.

His eyes are icy as he continues to glare--taunting me to continue the countdown.

I calmly walk to the table and place a salad plate with melty cheese nacho's with-in sniffing distance, but just outside his paws reach. After he sniffs deeply, I tear off a tiny morsel of gooey cheese and slowly pass it under his nose--

--directly into the open mouth of the FurKid who has not purposefully made a mess for me tonight.

Bandit dances his Happy Dance, then assumes his pretty sit,  signaling he is ready  to receive another treat.

I laugh as I retrieve the items from the floor and place them on the table for resorting tomorrow. 

Two can play this passive-agressive game, Moggy.  Two. Can. Play.

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