Michelle’s Weekly Pet Challenge Round Up Week 3
Michelle’s Weekly Pet Challenge Round Up Week 3
http://dailypost.wordpress.com, DP, Daily Prompt
What bores you?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us DULL.
I am going to have so many males and females booing at me and tossing eggs after I am done with this prompt. Why? You will see.
A list of things that bore me are;
Everything else in life is interesting to me.
Grandma was a 92-year-old with a mind age of 50. She lived in a flat in downtown Seattle. A city full of life and lights that never dimmed. Betty lived with two other occupants, her two dogs, Frankie and Johnnie.
These two dogs watched over their master, never forgetting that at one time they each had lived in a shelter for homeless dogs. Frankie was a golden retriever and Johnnie was a black lab. She had adopted the two at the same time, both being about the age of one year.
Each year at the holidays, you could find Betty deeply involved with the less fortunate. She could be found in the kitchen, peeling potatoes, or you may see her out on the front line, filling up plates, with fresh slices of turkey, green beans, and a nice piece of juicy ham.
Betty also spent many Sunday afternoons at the nursing homes, reading to the patients, or going room to room to pop in and say a quick hello. Hospitals got to know her visits so well, that she was known as God’s angel.
When she wasn’t involved with helping someone else, she could be found in her apartment, feeding her dogs first and then rummaging through her cupboards to find herself something to eat.
Her cupboards were less than half-filled. If you peeked inside, you would possibly see a few cans of soup, some canned vegetables, and a can or two of meat. In her refrigerator, you would see water in a jug, maybe some milk, and always her stored glass jar of ground coffee.
Betty had been brought up by parents who were well-known. They had made their fortunes by selling and buying stocks. She remembered many parties that had been held in their home. Lots of food and drink available, smoke lingering in the air from cigars, and gambling.
Betty also remembered many a Christmas’s, when the door knocker would sound, and her father would open the door to someone hungry and cold, and her father would shut the door in their faces, yelling harshly at the beggars to get a job free loader.
Betty remembered pretty dresses, and shoes and socks that matched. A nice warm bed at nights, stuffed dolls standing on shelves. A warm bath awaited her each morning, as her nanny came in to wake her up. Meals were served in the large dining room. A long, rectangle table with many chairs, but the only one being seated at most meals was herself.
Betty was not schooled in the public schools. She had a private tutor that came to her home five days a week, and for four hours each visit, she was taught how to read and write.
Playing with other children was prohibited. Her father wanted no one less than his own kind entering his door. Betty’s best friend was her nanny and her dolls. She would line up her dolls at her child size table, and with the help of Sara, the nanny, tea and cookies would be served to each of her friends.
When Betty grew up, she took with her memories of her childhood. Loneliness was her biggest shadow, and she vowed she would do her best to never see a sad face again. She worked for her parents in the office, that was in one of the tallest buildings down town.
She made a few close friends, and dated some, but never found the perfect mate, so marriage never entered her life. She saved money, but never invested. She followed the rules of her parent’s home, until one day she was sick at heart of the stuffiness, and broke a way. She found a flat, and then visited second-hand stores, filling her apartment with golden treasures.
Eventually she retired from the family business and with her tidy savings in the local bank, she went to work for a small business, where the goal was to help those in need. It was one of the stores she had went to when she was looking for furniture. Here she worked behind the counter.
She helped customers fill out paper work. She made calls to help some to retain heat during the cold winter months. She partook in putting meals together, and making sure that no one left the front door empty-handed.
Betty did this kind of work for many years. As she went home from work she would be tired, but it was a good tired. She loved her home, but walking into quietness, sometimes would make her sad. She decided to visit an animal shelter, and this is where she acquired her two best friends.
Each night she would turn the key in her door, and when it was opened, there would be Frankie and Johnnie, with tails wagging. She was always welcomed with love, and loyalty. She would go to the cupboards, and get two cans of dog food out and feed them first, before she thought about her own needs.
After the dogs finished eating, they would all sit on the couch, she would pet and talk to them, and they in turn would give her kisses and love. Betty felt that there was nothing else in her life that she could possibly need.
As years passed, Betty’s body began to tire out. Arthritis had set in and walking was more difficult. At the age of 82, she retired from her job, and spent most of her time with her dogs, but something was missing. She did not feel as if she was doing enough to help others. She needed more out of her life.
This is when she bumped into the homeless shelters and soup kitchens. There was no money to be made, but she didn’t care. What she received from this job was far more valuable than any dollar. Sometimes she took scraps home to her two dogs. These treats she provided, also gave her more love than she could ever want for.
Betty lived like this for many more years, until one time as she walked in her front door, she walked into silence. Frankie had went to sleep for ever on her side of the bed on the floor, and she found Johnnie sitting quietly near by.
This saddened Betty so much, she sat on her bed and cried for the loss of her good friend. She called the maintenance man and asked for his help in taking care of the dog’s body. It was less than two weeks later, that Johnnie died of loneliness for his friend.
Betty found herself alone. She would walk with her cane over to the living room window, and look out over the city, seeing life but no living, lights with no glow. She was growing very weak herself, and knew that her own time was coming to an end, and yet she knew that she had lived the best life and had helped so many.
She turned from the window, and walked to the kitchen, and taking two cans of dog food out of the cabinet, set them down, but never opened them. Tears slid down her face as she realized this habit could be no more, and placed the two cans back on the shelf.
She was not hungry, and she went into her bathroom, and washing her face and brushing her hair, she then went to her bedroom, and slipping into bed, she pulled her worn blankets up around her face, and thinking about Frankie and Johnnie, she went to sleep, never to wake again.
Her death was discovered by the postal man. He knocked on her door out of habit for many years. He would hand her mail to her, and she would stand and chat with him a few moments, brightening his day, but today no one answered the door.
The next days paper showed the following information. Betty, 92 years old, passed a way in her sleep peacefully. She had never married, but had adopted two dogs that were her children and the joy of her life. She dedicated her life to helping the less fortunate. Everyone knew her name and her heart. She never met a stranger. Betty’s parents had died many years earlier. There were no brothers or sisters. Betty had an estimated one million dollars, which has been left to the city to be spent on building new homeless shelters for people and animals. Betty will be missed by many. Rest in peace my friend.
Do you want a little humor for your Sunday morning review?
Do you want to read a comic that happened in reality, instead of a newspaper column?
Well, I have one for you, and it came out of the blue, not planned, or rehearsed.
I climbed out of my warm bed, because I heard the cries of Polly, letting me know she had to go potty. I slipped on my pink, fuzzy, warm house robe, and my fluffy slippers, and walked over in my new routine to open her crate door, bend down, letting the blood surge to my front of my head, reminding me that I do have sinus cavities, and picked the little two-pound fur ball up.
She doesn’t walk to the front door yet, nor does she walk up or down the four steps that lead to the yard. I walked out to the living room and grabbed my first cigarette for the morning, lit it and she and I headed for the door.
Believe me, I can do this routine in my sleep now, I am now accustomed to being woke up out of a dead sleep! I unlock the front door, open the door and the storm door, walk down the four steps, grab the end of the leash string, because now that she is nine weeks old, and starting to show her personality, I have found by pure accident and a chase around the yard, that she will wander off exploring the yard.
So, I have the leash attached to her and I put her down on the ground so she can go explore a perfect spot where she can do her elimination. I am smoking my smoke and looking up at the skies, noticing how blue it is and how I am a bit chilled, and I glance back down at her, and she has just tinkled.
Good dog, but I know you have one more process to handle before we can go back inside to the warmth of the house. She is sniffing and snooping and the beginning of the squat process is in play.
I see something out of the corner of my eye, and to my amazement it is a loose dog, not just any dog, a big dog, racing it hind legs as fast as they can travel to get to my Polly. With the size of that dog and the size of Polly, I think maybe that big old dog thought this was going to be a nice twig to chew on.
I threw my cigarette down and in my slippers, I raced, without thinking to grab Polly up to the safety of my arms, ready to defend her with my life, and the dog is getting closer and closer. Having her safely in my arms, I turn to run, yes run, first thing in the morning, back to the steps and I fall.
Oh yes, I fell, and my hands ended up in a nice pile of crap. Polly jumps out of my arms from shock from a mommy who was losing it, and she heads for the stairs all by herself, but she starts whimpering for help, as she can’t climb the first step.
The dog is here, and he and I have an eye to eye conversation, he looking for a snack, and my eyes telling him no way, Jose, you are not getting my baby. I take the only thing I have as far as a weapon, and that was my poop infested hand and I flipped it at the dog.
He backs up a little, as he could realize it was fresh and he wanted no part of that, but he didn’t remain back long enough, the taste of Polly was too tempting for him and so he came back again towards me. I snatched Polly back up in my arms, and two steps a way from me was the old rotten broom that I use for sweeping the porch.
With one hand holding Polly, and the other holding the broom, I got in to the pirate position and with my sword, I plunged at the dog, threatening his life with my weapon. He snarled, and I attacked, he snarled and I popped him with the bristles of my broom, my sword.
I could not aim very well with holding Polly, so I ended up swishing the bristles right across his buttocks. He jumped and whimpered, and with his tail between his legs, he took off like a bat out of hell.
I raced up the four steps and opened the door and we went in safely. I fell into my computer chair, with Polly in my arms, explaining how I had saved her life, and then setting her down, I stood back up and inspected my own self for damages. The only thing I saw was dirty hands, so I went and washed them good.
By this time, my coffee was ready to drink, so I grabbed a cup and put my cream in it and came over here and sat down, waiting for my heart to calm back down. Wow, I need another cigarette now, and this nice cup of hot coffee. I look around and there is innocent Polly, relaxing, chewing on her toys.
I love Polly, my new pup a lot, but I am having difficulty with three things, and I am being
patient, but she is causing me a couple of problems, so I am looking to you, the dog experts.
Number one, I really want her to sleep in her cage, but when I put her in it, she barks and whimpers so loud, I give up and put her in bed with me. She proceeds to want to sleep as close as she can, giving me no room to move or roll over, or she is licking my face. LOL. How do I fix this?
She potties outside when I take her out 90% of the time, but she is almost 9 weeks, so in a matter of minutes, she dribbles on the carpet. I know how to blot it up, but do I really want my carpet ruined by pee from a beloved pet? No.
Thirdly, she has caused me to almost fall, well, I can’t even count on both fingers. She refuses to walk anywhere but under my feet, trying to walk between my feet or on my feet. I walk ever so gently, and I have tried saying no, and gently nudging her out-of-the-way, but she keeps coming back.
I feel like I need to sit on my couch and not move, in order to remain standing. I have not even been able to clean my house, and believe me, even though it is only me instead of Al and me, it shows that I am living inside of here. LOL. She wants to be held at all times, or she whimpers. She is the biggest whimper dog ever!!!
Someone help me with ideas on how to fix this! I know it takes time to housebreak a dog, so I am not being impatient, but to go outside and keep dribbling inside, well, I have had my fill of it.
Should I keep her in the crate at all times except for potty, eat, and play time, and just listen to her whimper and bark?
I received this email this morning, and now I understand why I am the way I am at my age. lol. This was so comical! Had to share with my friends. Thanks Shona!!
The dog said, “That’s a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I’ll give you back the other ten?”
And God said that it was good.
On the second day, God created the monkey and said, “Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I’ll give you a twenty-year life span.”
The monkey said, “Monkey tricks for twenty years? That’s a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the dog did?”
And God again said that it was good.
On the third day, God created the cow and said, “You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer’s family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.”
The cow said, “That’s kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I’ll give back the other forty?”
And God agreed it was good.
On the fourth day, God created humans and said, “Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I’ll give you twenty years.”
But the human said, “Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?”
“Okay,” said God, “You asked for it.”
So that is why for our first twenty years, we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years, we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years, we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years, we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.
Life has now been explained to you.