We had a few days of nice weather; now, it is back to crappy rain. Seriously, we've had far too much moisture these past months. I'm tired of it. It's a pain in the butt, too, when you have a dog. Every time she has to go out, one of us (usually me since I'm home with her) has to wipe Lucy's feet off or else she'll leave wet doggie foot prints all over the tile floor. Of course, it typically happens that it starts to rain right after I've newly mopped the floor. Then, I have to admit, I tend to make her wait longer than I probably should to go out, in hopes that it will stop raining. Not that this really matters because the ground is still wet and muddy. And, boy, does she HATE having her feet wiped. We've finally gotten her to the point where she won't try and yank her feet away and will actually give us, in turn, her front paws. The back ones, well, it's sort of hit or miss.
Anyway, I'm tired of the rain for a lot of reasons, not just because I have to wipe my dog's feet. On to the subject at hand, our pets.
I think our cats are convinced my alias is Carlton the Door Man. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you are far too young and/or never watched 70s comedy TV. So, yeah; the cats love to be out in the sun room. Pete and Lily in particular, Lily the most. She'll go out there first thing in the morning and won't want to come in unless she is hungry or needs to use the box (no, I don't leave anyone out there if I'm going to be away for a long period of time). Ares and Apollo like to be out there as well but they tend to want to come right back in. Ares has an incredibly annoying habit of scratching at the door when he wants to come inside. Apollo just sits there letting Ares do the work. The weirdest, though, is Pete. When he wants out and hears me unlocking the deadbolt, he comes running from wherever he is; chirping away, and will literally jump up on the door and try to turn the door knob. If he ever manages to get the door open, I'll turn the Carlton The Door Man responsibilities over to him and call it a day. When he is ready to come back in, he'll sit at the door and stare at me through the glass. Like this:
Lucy usually gets in on the action as well; when I get up to open the door, she'll run over and try to barge out into the sun room. Of course, she is required to sit and wait politely to be told it is okay to go out (which happens, oh, zero percent of the time; she ALWAYS has to be reminded). So, not only am I ping-ponging up and down to open the door to let one cat or another in or out, I'm constantly saying "Sit! Sit!" to Lucy. The other day, I got all sorts of confused and found myself standing at the door instructing Ares to sit. He just looked at me and yawned.
The only cat who doesn't really like to be out in the sun room (unless the door is left open) is Athena. She'll stay inside; either upstairs napping or down in the kitchen with me. This usually is of great benefit to her as, if I'm cooking something, she'll get a treat while the others remain clueless out in the sun room.
Another sort of funny thing that's come to our attention and that is Ares HAS to be with Pete as much as he possibly can. We should probably nickname Ares "Shadow" because that is exactly what he is, Pete's shadow. If Pete comes strolling into a room and Ares is not already in the room, you can rest assured Ares will be right behind him, trying to cozy up to him, even while Pete is walking. If Pete's in an ok mood, fine. If not, Pete starts to growl and hiss, which doesn't really detract Ares all that much. If Pete jumps up onto our bed at night, Ares is right behind, purring away. If I go into the bathroom and Pete follows me (both Pete and Lily have a "thing" for climbing into the magazine basket next to the toilet and keeping me company while I do my business (and I must pet them, too, which is sometimes quite a feat early in the am when I'm half zonked; pee, pet, wipe, flush)); Ares will run in behind him and try to climb into the basket, which causes all sorts of fuss. Every once in awhile, Apollo will attempt the same trick but if he does, Ares usually butts him out of the way.
We're finally getting to the point where The Little Kids don't typically run away from us and might even venture down if we have company (but if there is any attempt to touch them, off they'll scamper). Pete and Lily don't care one way or another; Pete, in particular, will be a bit sociable if he's feeling generous. They still run a bit from Mr. B (usually Athena), but, she'll climb up on the bed and cuddle next to him so she must be deciding he's not half bad.
When Mr. B comes home, not only do we have Lucy running around like ape shit when she hears the garage door go up carrying one of her toys and dashing madly about the island until he comes in, now Apollo comes running when the garage door goes up as well. Seriously! If he's upstairs, I'll hear the "thud" of him jumping down from wherever and down he'll trot. He'll usually go right over to the refrigerator so he can wait for Mr. B to make the evening martinis and give him a few pieces of ice (which he plays with but does ultimately eat).
Lily had some gunk in her ears so I took her to see Uncle Chuck who determined it was some sort of bacterial infection; no big deal. She had to have drops in her ears twice a day for two weeks. She HATED HATED HATED having those drops put in her ears. Pets are not dumb; she'd try to go running when she saw the bottle. Before we started this procedure, she slept on the bed every night next to Mr. B. Now, she's pissed off at both of us and doesn't so much any longer. Hopefully, she'll come around soon (although she still has to assist Mr. B with getting ready in the bathroom each and every morning).
And then there is Lucy. Oh, Lucy, God passed over you in the brains department, my dearest Goosie. I think, frankly, she may have suffered some brain damage in her other life. What else can explain it? It's not AWFUL but, cheese! Sometimes, however, her lack of mental attributes is very comical, like yesterday. We were outside enjoying the afternoon sun. Lucy was laying on the patio next to us when Mr. B (who has been trying to work with her on fetching) said, "Lucy! Go get your ball!" Ok, she knows what this means and she did go get her pink tennis ball. However, she still won't bring it to you so you can throw it. She still does this thing where she runs around you, almost like she's showing off; "Ha ha! My ball! My ball!"
Anyway, Mr. B finally got her to drop the ball close enough that he picked it up and threw it. She went after it; brought it back to the patio; repeat the process. This time, he picked it up and threw it and either the sun got in her eyes or she turned her head and didn't see where it went, but, she couldn't find it. She went running off in the wrong direction, then, eventually, trotted over to Mr. B and looked at him as if to say, "Where is it? Where is my ball?" He made a movement as if he was tossing the ball and damned if she didn't go running off in the direction his hand went. She still couldn't find it, though; so, he did this a few more times until she accidentally stepped on it. By this time, I was laughing so hard, I could hardly stand it!
Ah, pets are so amusing!
Mrs B
