Chick & Mushroom

“For variety–a cute baby chick perched on a mushroom”

 

–Image, Craig Roberts– 

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Near the Borderline

The borderline is a good thing if you’re hankering for some Taco Bell.

If your cholesterol is borderline–fast food’s not a good choice.  My annual physical is a little over a week away.

The gist of all this–I have to consume only poultry and fish, between now and then.

Starting after tonight’s roast pork loin dinner, with German potato salad, baked beans, and marinated coleslaw.

Time will tell if my dietary efforts pay off.

Another dietary concern involves my dog, Max.  He certainly isn’t starving for food.  Last night and today, I’ve caught him with baby turtles in his mouth.

They weren’t the sea-dwelling type, but rather, some species of land tortoise.  In any case, they deserved a chance to grow into turtle adulthood.

Some Catching Up To Do

Another birthday came and went. Birthday cakes aren’t large enough to hold the required number of candles.

The younger set is impatient to age, the older set wishes aging would slow down.

Visited with friends over a long weekend. Many enjoyable highlights. Scars from last year’s tragic fires were still present in Gatlinburg and Smoky Mountain NP.

Ridges covered with bare trees, stark skeletons of burned-out homes and cabins. Hilltops bulldozed over–some decided to rebuild, others took insurance settlements, and left.

Went deep undercover in Tennessee Vols country Saturday.  No one was the wiser.  Faithful fans cheered for positive yardage; fell silent during penalties in a very lackluster game with UMass.

The two mutts were glad to be released from incarceration at the kennel on our return.  Their lockup due to their incompatibility with felines.

One morning in the restroom, I was startled when one of the male cats jumped from behind the shower curtain.  The other, growled from concealment.  Thankfully, the conflict didn’t escalate, while I was in a compromised position.

Max and Maggie would be disappointed to know, while they were kenneled, we were visiting with cats.  It will remain a secret.

“Sam” On the Lam (A Favorite True Story)

Image how awkward, this must have been to explain, four years ago. It could have gone something like this.

“There’s a large bird in my yard. I think it’s an emu.”

“An emu?”

“Yes, an emu.”

“How’d it get there?”

“Don’t have any idea. I guess it walked from somewhere–since emus don’t fly.”

##############

A lone emu, walked, pecked
Among cornstalks in farm country
Wide-open spaces
An unusual animal
Not seen everyday

Where’d it come from?
Was this emu on the lam?
Did it have a name?
Perhaps, “Sam,” if it’s a him
Or, “Samantha,” if it’s a her

“Sam” caused quite a stir
Around these parts
But, country folk
Had big hearts

A kindly person
Took him (or her) in
Provided a temporary home
For “Sam” on the lam
However, it’s still not known

Whether, “Sam” escaped
From the zoo
Or, was “Sam” an orphaned emu
With wanderlust–that nobody wanted
It’s still a mystery–because no one knew

–Image, story idea from Craig Roberts–

On One Particularly Beautiful Day

A beautiful day in the neighborhood. A good day to do just about anything.

Beginning with a long walk along the bay, watching fish jump for entertainment. Or, whatever fish jumped for–catching prey, impressing fish of the opposite sex–who knew?

Breaking for witty banter with some of the neighbors. Wasn’t traffic near the newly-opened amusement park beginning to snarl?

The pooches had a friendly get-together. There were no canine disagreements. What kind of dog was a Feist? Nobody
knew exactly.

“It was a small hunting dog.” “It was the same as a rat terrier?” “A Jack Russell?” “Must have been from Germany–the name sounded Germanic.”

Business was closed without any new business. The consensus was to wait-and-see on the Feist dog. One of the neighbors was acquiring a new pup.

I’ll Take the Fifth (Of July)

For selfish reasons–I’m glad the Fourth of July is over. Last night, fireworks explosions carried on, till almost midnight.

Max scratched on the bedroom door, to get out, till it was over. There wasn’t anywhere else to go. Why couldn’t he rationalize the same as humans? “Max, settle down, go to sleep.” My spouse slept through all of it.

All five dogs were affected to some degree. Great-grand-dog Dexter, Greta, Bogart, my grand-dogs, and Max and Maggie, hung out in the basement till bedtime.

I don’t begrudge anyone’s Fourth of July festivities. From this pet owner’s perspective–I’m glad it’s over.