Enough waxing all sappy and wistful. The onset of the autumn months brings about a couple of other occasions. Our old-woman-dog, Scout, tacks on another year. This will be number 15 for her in September, warts and all, though the warts are a few years younger than the rest of her bod.
|Awesome capture of Scooter's eye-wart. Sorry if you're eating breakfast. Amazing how--erm--we don't even notice it.|
And you know where this is going. Cue the musings on Canis Bizarrus, a.k.a. Pippet. She's calmed down a lot in the last year, though her love of all paper products is still ever-present. So she's still in the running for a spot on "My Strange Addiction."
|Taken today. Kleenex the victim.|
- Full hatred for Leo, the neighbor's cat. This vitriol has been a work in progress, which is aided by the fact that Leo has taken over our yard as his own. Pippet's not buying.
|Leo. One of the most lovable cats around. But after petting him you have this film on your hands that makes you want to scrub with soap and water surgeon-style.|
- Howling in the middle of the night, usually when Jay is away on business, so that I have every light and TV on at 3:30 in the morning to make things all the livelier, though not necessarily safer against hooligans.
- Constant stalking of Scout. Like hiding and peeking around corners and then jumping out at the old girl. Not nice.
- Barking at my phone (and only mine), be it a call, text, alert, whatever.
- Whining like Timmy's Stuck in the Well whenever I knock the soggy coffee grounds out into the sink (yes--I know that's bad for the septic--Jay makes sure to remind me). Also when I fill the coffee pot back up with water. This is a fairly new behavior. And super-weird. Here she is watching me fill the coffee pot, whining the whole time. Note the concerned face.
- Chewing the remaining fringe off the living room rug when nobody will play with her according to her schedule. She'd forgotten about the fringe for a while, but is currently back at it. I wish she'd finish it off so that the new look would be complete.
- Barking at the basement door. Our daughter's insistent that there are ghosts of cats past down there. I'm still wondering if she's detecting the critter that was storing pecans in the rafters (The Imperfectionist: A Fond Adieu to Cats and Other Stuff, July 1, 2012).
One thing is certain. From the way my mind has wandered through these paragraphs, obviously I need some structure back in my life. School to the rescue! We'll work on Pippet later.