NapDay

Technically it's not really a nap, but yesterday I slept in an hour because I took the day off from work to attend an appointment for an RFA (RadioFrequency Ablation) on my Right Lesser Saphanous Vein. 

Translation: a vein in my right calf was cauterized.

It's a minimally invasive procedure, with some discomfort, but not what I would categorize as pain. I wasn't concerned.

I prepared and premedicated myself as instructed. Prior to the procdedure my blood pressure was 135/76. A little high for me since I usually run 110/70. But still very acceptable. 

After the RFA my BP was much closer to my normal when it registered as 115/70. Perhaps I had been a tad bit anxious after all.

As I considered picking up supplies and prescriptions, a tiny headache started to build. Headache is not a lifethreatening side effect of the procedure or the preprocedure medications, so I powered through.

By the time I arrived home a couple hours later it had  developed  into a full blown headache. I was thankful I had the foresight to take the entire day off to recuperate.

I let Moggy and TheGirls outside for a potty break, then we all pilled into my queen sized bed: me hanging off the edge;  my three free-loaders occupying the sweet spot in the middle. As usual.

We took our first official nap of the day. 

Actually, we "napped" for two hours...it was a good nap, but not long enough to banish the headache, so I closed my eyes.

They remained closed an additional three hours. 

After Nap Number Two, it was time for a potty break and a very late dinner. As has been our custom we ate our dinner outside on the patio. Although we ate very quickly, the sun set before we finished and returned to the coolness inside. 

Translation:  we scarfed it down and returned to the AC.

Back inside, we piled onto the sofa where we...if you thought took nap number three, you would be....wrong!

We actually watched the last ten minutes of To Tell The Truth, a moden revival of a classic game show. 

When the news came on, we took a nap.

LOL!  No we did not. I just wanted to type that.  I merely got ready for bed.  Evidently, Moggy and TheGirls were ready for bed again as well, because they joined me.

So NapDay really only consisted of two naps. Granted, they were not quick power naps. It feels like I've done nothing but sleep all day.

Technically that's pretty close to the truth, but the cadence of Sleep-in, Nap, Nap, Sleep, puts me in the mindset of Duck, Duck, Goose.

And it's a more combersome title that does not roll off the tongue.

Besides, I just like the sound of  "NapDay." 

BirdDogs

My backyard birds are entertaining to watch. 

Usually.

Here lately, I've felt the need to referee them as they've stepped up their fighting at the feeders and unseen boundry lines.

The Chickadees, are bossy as heck.

I relate to bossy. I am bossy. I have been bossy my whole life. In fact, on one of my 4th grade report cards the notation from the teacher says, "Mary Lou has been 'mothering' the other children again."  I asked Mama about that. Her translation: "You were a  bossy child." 

Humph. 

I can't help it if I know how to get things done and speak directly.   I am cognizant of this tendency, and I do attempt to temper my speech with kindess and grace. However, I do not sugar coat issues,  and I'm not always successful in toning down the bossiness. 

This failure has resulted in my  successfully embracing the fine art of The Apology.

Anyway, I like my Chickadees.  I relate to them. They have been chittering at all the other birds for a few weeks now.

Chittering is okay.

But they have escalated their behaviour, and are now flying at the other birds. Not in the playful way the Hummingbirds buzz Yours Truly.  But in a Pearl Harbor suicidal-dive-bombing kind of way. Especially when it comes to the Dove that has started camping out on one of the feeder ledges. She is flat out taking up residence for half an hour at a time. I may need to start charging rent.  Or tell her the buffet has a two minute time limit.

Most of the other birds just hang back and watch as the seed level sinks lower and lower. But not the Chickadees. They fly right up to her and chit her out. They move her off the ledge. Maybe she moves away because she's full, but I like to think David is reslaying Goliath. Daily.

I agree with the Chickadees. While I don't begrudge those going through a rough time  and are truely in need,  I'm personally tired of working to pay for all the perks others receive, while I can't afford them for myself--especially freebies that our government hands out to able-bodied people who prefer scamming the system to an honest days work.  I realize I can't tilt at every windmill, so I just B&M here on my blog. And occassionally write my  public servants to complain.

But back to the bossy birds--when the Chickadees start going after the bigger birds--and the real backyard bullies--the infamous BlueJays--I caution the Chickadees to pick their dragons carefully--some dragons slay easy, while others breath fire.  It's usually not evident which is which until they open their mouth. 

To that end, I caution the Chickadees to be careful.  But rather than be careful, I think the Chickadees have started rubbing off on the Hummingbirds. 

Although I love the forthrightness of the Chickadees, the Hummers are my faves. They are also the most curious about me. 

The  Hummers are the ones who almost--but not quite, at least not yet--engage me, by buzzing my head, posing for photos, and play hide-and-seek when they notice me watching them.

Hummers can be very  territorial. Especially over their food source. I occassionally see them dart at birds when they fly a little too near their nectar feeders. But I've also started to see them flying, with their long sword-like beaks poised threateningly, at birds who are just sitting on branches  minding their own business.  They just happen to be in the same tree.

Even more alarming to me: the Hummingbirds have begun attacking each other this week. Not just at the feeder. Not just while sotting on branches in the feeder tree. They have also been attacking each other in the tip-top branches of their resting tree. I also like to call it their surveillance tree. Not only do they almost engage me--they also stalk me. 

Now, the Doves are fighting each other. It seems Covid-19 isn't the only malady out there.  Some nights it's like an avian free-for-all in my backyard.  The thing of it is: It's not like they are fighting because they are starving. 

I'm spending a small fortune keeping all the feeders full.  There's no call for the birds, or the squirrels, to fight each other for their dinner.

I have premium shelled seeds, nuts, and fruit bits in the house and peacock feeders. The suet ball feeder stays full.  Not too many of the birds seem to care for the balls. Maybe they are too hard to get out of the feeder. All my backyard critters love the suet feeders on the back fence. In fct, I can't refill them fast enough.  The Hummers actually wiggle their little tail feathers when I put out the cold nectar.  When I mix the nectar, I fill their feeders only about 1/3 to 1/2 full. The Texas summer heat is rough on leftover nectar, and since bad nectar can kill my Feathered Friends, I keep the unused nectar fresh in the fridge until I use it to fill a feeder.  I also perform frequent scrubbings  and refills on the feeders. 

I'm an Equal Opportunity Critter Spoiler, so I also put corn on the cob in the bungee feeder--just for the squirrels.  I hope the bunge cord eventually lessens the squirrel raids on the seed and suet feeders. I'm not sure how effective it is. I see the squirrels trying to eat at every place setting--including the Hummingbird feeders. 

I don't think the birds, or the squirrels,  should feel the need to have to fight for their dinner. There's plenty to go around.  

Tonight as I served up more seed, I realized the birds not only  fight each other,  and the squirrels--they also have to  watch out for my BirdDogs hogging the bird food as well!

I only captured a photo of one of the BirdDogs at the feeder, but trust me, both TheGirls were present for this photo opp. 

Because I'm Brilliant Like That.

I forgot to take my antibiotic with dinner last night.

I'm brilliant like that.

No excuse.  The bottle was sitting right in front of me.  Just like this morning--I'm just now realizing I forgot it again.

Pauses typing to take the stupid pill...Resumes typing. 

Last night, when I finally remembered, it was late.   I needed food with it but didn't want anything heavy, so I reached over to my treat stash and grabbed a couple thumbnail-sized crackers and popped them in my mouth.

They were crunchy but tasted a tad bit stale.

Because I'm brilliant, I grabbed a couple more. 

It was a twofold decision--taste test for freshness and ensure enough food was in my tummy to avoid tummy tear-up with the introduction of the long overdue antibiotic.

Yep. Stale.

I quickly took my pill and washed everything down with some DDP (Diet Dr Pepper).

Good thing I did.

I decided to check the expiration date. Nope. Still good for another 13 months.

So I turned the bag over to see if it was an off brand. Store brands are usually made by the same people in the same factory--they just have different labels. I like store brands.  I'm not so sure of the quality of off-brands and knockoffs. They often taste a little "off" to me.

Nope. Not to worry.  Nationally recognized name brand.

As I started hacking like I was about to toss up a hairball, then and only then,  my brain kicked in...the crackers were Moggy's.

I had taken my pill with, not one--but two,  small servings of catnip treats.  Even after thinking the first serving was a tad bit off. 

Because I'm...meow...brilliant like that!

Caturday Critter Craziness

Moggy, my Domestic Short Hair (DSH) resuce, acts as if Caturday is every day. Because he has trained  his "help" well (I would be The Help), he is correct--everyday is Caturday.

Most weekend Caturdays are restful. However, this past Saturdays Caturday was fraught with chaos, starting around o'dark thirty.

The Girls, my Mom and Daughter retired AKC Champions, came to me supposedly potty-pad trained this past Feburary. They have had many accidents. I prefer they be outside potty trained anyway, so we are potty training--the thing I didn't want to have to do, and a major reason I choose older dogs rather than a puppy. Yet here I am--potty trainning a 5 year old and her four year old daughter. 

During the past few months we have become more consistant with using the potty pads, which have made their way closer and closer to the back door.  We like progress. Soon the potty pads will be outside and no longer needed. Actually, they are only needed now when I am away from home too long, or when The Girls don't wake me for the occasional overnight potty break. If we continue to avoid accidents, the plan is to finish out our current supply, and be done with potty pads altogether.

Sometime between midnight and daybreak, the girls woke me with their restlessness.  Usually restlessness is a pretty good indicator of a need, so outside we went.  This time the restlessness was actually the Intruder Alert.

The din they made could have awakened the residents of the local cemetery.  As it were,  our closest neighbors were the ones awakened. 

Following The Girls outside I found the intruder pinned to the fence near the bird feeders. It seems the Opposum likes to clean up the fallen bird seed.

The Girls couldn't be more different personality-wise. Kennzie, the Mama, is my chill, pleaser pup--except when she gets riled by the squirrels, or feeds into KatiE's teenage hyper-micromanagement of the neighborhood yards. KatiE is not content to just terrorize the squirrels in our yard--no, she must bark at the squirrels in the neighbors yards, and neighbors neighbors yards--and the yards across the field. Thankfully she has started to acclimate to the birds that dine at our feeders. Most days. I'm hoping acclimating to the squirrels will not be far behind. But frankly it's a long shot.

During our early morning Critter Brawl, I had to place myself physically between the opposum and The Girls, to get them to settle down. From now on, I will flick the outside light a few times, and open the door a little slower.  Hopefully this will give the opposum time to make himself scarce. 

After the sun came up, we returned outside for breakfast. I enjoy our weekend breakfasts. They are pleasent and relaxing. 

Most of the time.

This particular Caturday Moggy decided, since The Girls were busy ensuring the opposum hadn't returned, he would snack on their ignored breakies. KatiE was having None. Of. That.  Even though she wasn't eating anything herself,  she growled a warning each time Moggy so much as looked at her bowl.

Moggy is fed inside on a raised counter so he can eat in peace. After KatiEs warning growls he decided to go inside to check out his bowl. Afterward he saunterd off to roam the neighborhood.

During KatiE's barkfest, Kennzie, my chill Mama pup, surprised me when she spied a squirrel daring to step paw into our yard and took off at breakneck speed, barking all the way, to the far corner.

KatiE was torn: micromanage Moggy or The Squirrel? After a few false starts, and back-and-forth races, she finally decided to follow her Mama's lead wholeheartedly.

After the fracas at the far corner of the yard died down, but before The Girls lost interest in watching for the return of the squirrel, Moggy returned. Via the same corner.  The Girls have finally started to listen to me--but only a little--and they curtailed their barking at Moggy fairly quickly--quickly for them anyway. But the left-side next door neighbors dogs acted like Moggy was Charles Manson, Jeffery Dahmer, and Ted Bundy all rolled into one. 

The neighbors dogs are very well trained and follow his comand instantly. Mine, not so much. I didn't even hear him quiet his dogs. But I know he did because they quieted sooner than they normally do when they see Moggy.

Moggy kept his eyes trained on me and walked steady. He's learning. When he walks fast, or runs, The Girls give chase, splitting in order to corner him. I fear for him during those times he faces their pack mentality.

Much to my relief Moggy made it to the safety of the patio. Only after he climbed up into the spare chair next to me did I breathe easy.

Just before the Texas heat took its toll on us, the new puppy to our right tumbled out his doggie door.

You guessed it.

The morning peace was broken yet again. But it was the last time.

Only because the morning would be over in less than thirty minutes.

Besides we weren't staying outside any longer.

More importantly, at least to Moggy, now that the morning chaos had subsided, His Royal Highness was meowing for additional cat food, and I, his humble servant was expected to provide.

As I gathered up my breakfast dishes, phone, camera, extra dogfood, dog and kittie treats, book, sunscreen, hat, fly and mosquito sprays, and other "must haves"  Moggy decided he needed a drink.

Not a problem, I have several water bowls set out for Moggy and The Girls.  As he lapped the water, KatiE started growling at him again.  Then the slight breeze shifted.

Moggy felt a light sprinkle from the solar birdbath fountain. I know because I was on the receiving end of the sprinkles as well.

I watched him think it through.

The splashes came from the solar fountain in the birdbath. That meant water is in the birdbath. The birdbath bowl is above the height of both Dogs. Hummmm...

And then he lept.

The birdbath crashed to the patio, spilling the river rock stepping stones for the smaller birds, the solar fountain, and the water all over the patio. The larger flamingo-riding gnome was not affected; however, the mini-gnome's cactus home was overturned. And Moggy shot off towards the open back door and the safety of inside.

Amid the chaos, in spite of the chaos, and even because of the chaos, everyday is Caturday at our zoo.

Except when it's also The Dog Days...

The Croaker

Our actions, as well as our inactions, have consequences. Like it or not this loosely paraphrased law of physics is a fact of life.  And sometimes death. 

For a while now I've been hearing an occasional light thumping around my front door. The first time I investigated, I decided it was the wind whipping the garden flags on either side of the entryway. Additionally, I recently added a spring-time hanging flag on the door. Any one of the flags, or their holders, could be the  noisemaking culprit.

Sunday evening, after an energy zapping, scorcher of a day, I watered the plants on the back patio. Tired and overheating,  I considered waiting until morning to water the plants at the front entry.  Even as I deliberated  I knew I ran the risk of death. Some of my favorite and most fragile plants are sheltered from the Texas sun in the relative safety of the entryway.  Deciding the benefit outweighed the risk, I waited.

Had I watered the plants that night--or had I powered through my zapped state and  investigated that nights thumper--death might have been been delayed.

Unfortunately, I may have unwittingly heard the desperate last noises of the front yard toad before he croaked.

I now realize the thumping I have previously mistaken for wind may have actually been Mr. Toad attempting to hop back out of the watering can I have positioned to catch rainwater run-off. In the past, if  the frog entered the watering can, he has, after a few attempts, exited said can. At least, I never found him inside the watering can after hearing the thumping noises, so I'm assuming this is a possible scenario. 

Sunday night, Mr. Toad did not make it out of the watering can alive. I'm unsure if it was because the water level was wrong (e.g. too great/half way may be too far from the bottom for a leap to safety; or too low/halfway might be too far from the top to pull himself up and out).  Or maybe he misjudged the jump to safety and hit his head on the handle spanning the top opening; thereby, knockihg himself senseless and back into the water.   Or maybe he simply exhausted himself after repeated failed atempts to jump out of his wayery grave.

Whatever the reason, when I picked up the watering can Monday morning,  I found Mr. Toad floating lifeless inside.

Had I watered the plants, I could have released him to the relative safety of our Moggy-patrolled area. He would have at least had a fighting--or more likely,  a hidding chance--at life. 

However, Mr. Toads entry into the watering can placed him in harms way, and my failure to water my plants, or check out the thumping noise, collided with him to form a perfect storm in which he perished.

On a selfish note, I never did get around to kissing him to see if he was my Prince Charming...or just another toad. Now I'll just have to wonder....

I have stepping stones in my bird baths to increase the safety factor for smaller birds visiting my garden water sources. Now I am placing stick ramps in deeper buckets for the amphibians. Even if a trapped critter cannot figure out how to climb the stick ramp to safety, they will have something on which to rest or cling to life until they are rescued.

The deep-water ramps are a  gardening safety lesson learned too late to save my possible Prince Charming. Perhaps it will save future lives. I hope so. No more Garden Death Trauma for this girl, thank you very much.

I hope this garden water safety lesson has not been learned in vain. I hope it prevents future avoidable garden deaths. 

RIP Mr. Toad.

The Dragonfly

I've been saying my Dragonfly is fearless. Or curious. Or both. 

He buzzes me in the back yard. He greets me in the front yard. He poses for me long minutes at a time as I fumble with cameras and phones until I get one of them to allow me to take really close photos of him. 

Even after I disturb him enough to buzz away, he returns within a minute or two.

As a result I've claimed he's fearless, or at least curious.

Well, here's a photo to prove it.
 
Sort of.

If you don't look too closely. 

It almost looks like the Dragonfly is resting on the end of my pointer finger. In reality, he's sitting on one of the stalks of my smaller red yucca.  My finger is actually touching the underside of the stalk, not the Dragonfly.  But it does make for an interesting photo.

When I tired to get the Dragonfly to step onto my finger, he flew away--but he returned to the stalk before I had taken the 10 steps  to my SUV driverside door.

Fearless? Curious? Pure dumb luck? Coincidence? Something else? 

I'll leave it to you to decide.

But I'm considering names that imply courage and curiosity.