No, it’s not a sitrep sort of thing. Well, kind of.
I continued to work on the hedge this weekend. Well, Sunday. All that’s left is the lily bed and to plant more ivy.
Hope you all like looking at me as much as I like looking at you. Which is not at all. That huge green wall made so much difference. Like it was my own secret garden.
Well, with dog shit.
I hate living on a postage stamp.
Gone. I hope you’re happy asshole, because now you’ll see every move the dogs and I make in the back…
It’s down now; I just have to do cleanup. What a mess.
I feel nekkid.
The plants themselves are nearly dead… maybe I should replant? Should it be confederate ivy again or something else?
Would it surprise anyone to know that I’ve been standing out there in the middle of it all, staring at that house? You reap what you sow…
I can’t believe the month is half gone. It’s been a lovely, cool winter for those of us in south Florida, so I’ll be sorry to see Spring this year.
My husband sent two dozen roses for Valentine’s Day, as is his habit. I told him one single rose would be just as appreciated, but if it makes him happy to send 24, so be it.
In the not-so-good news, the neighbor behind us decided there was too much damn ivy over on his side and cut it back… with extreme prejudice. I can’t blame him; if it’s over there, it’s fair game. But damn… almost all of it is dead now. And that sucks.
It’s been a lovely morning; warm and slightly humid. The light not yet harsh, the dogs and I enjoyed it immensely.
I don’t know what this is called, but how cool!
It went ALL over the sky. Very interesting!
Edit: The man just told me that they are vapor trails. Boo. I like the spectre of the unknown better.
She’s just a dog. Like every other dog, she has her own personality, likes and dislikes, favorite foods and play toys. So why does she seem so special? That’s the question of the day: what makes her the best of the three… and that statement is not made lightly.
Bree is a spoiled brat, assured of her place as Queen of everything. She picks on the other two, wielding her larger paws like bats as she swats at their heads. If she wants their chews or food, she simply walks up and starts growling. Many fights have begun between Bree and Badger in such a way.
Daisy is a primitive psychotic. But she know enough about her spot in the pecking order that she does not fight. She might growl or posture, but she knows that she would lose in a match with either Bree or Badger.
The funny thing is, once she’s growled, they disengage. Why won’t they tangle with her? It’s a question for the ages. Can you tell I watch these dogs like they’re a science experiment?
Badger. The Honey Badger is sweet and loving like no dog I’ve ever known.
She can also be your worst nightmare. Her fights with Bree are getting more dire, only because she won’t back down, not even in the face of a larger opponent with bigger teeth. Honey Badger don’t care. She goes full out on everything; loving, fighting, eating, living. She’s the Auntie Mame of the canine world.
She’s the protector of us… and of those weaker than herself. She’s taken Daisy under her wing and when Bree tries to swat her on the head or take away her chew, Badger flies at the larger dog. She puts herself between them.
I’m sitting at my desk and Badger is draped across my lap asleep. At night she sleeps with us in bed, sometimes lying besides Mike, sometimes myself. Always wanting to touch, even in her dreams.
Badger is very attentive, even outside. She watches my face and eyes to make sure she misses nothing; not a direction or a kind word. She’s the only dog who comes when I call without fail, who goes inside and outside on my command. The other two, especially Bree, could care less. Well, Daisy is usually caught up in hunting and is loathe to obey.
So Badger is the best girl. Period.
I almost wrote ‘peckerwood’. Guess that cocktail of otc drugs is kicking in.