That's That
Edwards is out. This excellent article sums up what was important about his candidacy. So now we're left with Clinton and Obama, which is dandy. On the Republican side, I'm looking for Giuliani to bow out any day now and I suspect Huckabee won't be far behind. McCain's win last night in Florida makes me happy. Mitt the Maggot needs that old dog barking at his heels. And when I say "at his heels" I mean that in regards to how the vibrancy of the McCain campaign is keeping this from being a cakewalk for the man in the magic underwear. For lo, McCain actually is leading in terms of delegates. That doesn't surprise me but I'm quite sure it was the last thing the Romney people expected. Tee and also, hee.
Here's a fun website for the wonk in you. It's officially my favorite website ever. For the next few months anyway.
Moving on, there is a bittersweet situation in our house right now.
With the passing of our darling Phoebe, there has been an increase in vermin in our neighborhood. Oh, I haven't actually seen evidence of this, but she was a mouser of the highest order and kept this zone clear. She hunted down small creatures and then she killed them. Lots of times she ate them. Word got out and the smart ones stayed away.
For the last few days The Dog has been absolutely frantic. He has spent inordinate amounts of time barking and scrabbling at our compost bin. (It's a tub-like thing, with a lid. City issue. It looks kinda like Darth Vader's helmet). It sits on a thick plastic whaddaya callit...looks like a sieve and is designed to keep things from burrow up into the bin. Said bin is also bolted to the ground so that it cannot be upset by larger creatures, like raccoons.
But something has gotten in there, dammit, and The Dog is determined to get it.
Of course, he can't. The designs which were intended to keep creatures out work against him as well. Until he sees the whites of its eyes, that ratty boy is completely safe, free to burrow through the moldering coffee grounds and eggshells and banana peels to his nasty little heart's content. (Yes, I'm totally picturing Templeton from Charlotte's Web).
Every time The Dog is let out of the house he runs to the bin, plants his feet firmly and waits, nose pointing to the bin. He stands silently, every fiber of his doggy being trained on the bin and then, when he hears whatever it is he hears, he starts barking and scratching like a mad thing.
The rats, I'm sure, are laughing at him. "Oh, silly poofty dog," they say in their scritchy rat voices, "what do you think you can do, huh?"
If The Dog were able to speak Rat, he'd tell them that they should be very afraid, for he is descended from two noble breeds, both of whom have serious credentials. The poodle side of him makes him prone to sniffing out and retrieving things. (You didn't know poodles started out as hunting dogs, did you? That frou-frou trim that standard poodles get? Originally done to make it easier for them to swim). And on the schnauzer side, oh, the schnauzers. They were originally kept as yard dogs, guards and - please note - rat catchers. Yes! It is in his blood to get those rats and serve them notice.
If only he could. Oh, if only.
Every evening, after he's been dragged back into the house and the laundry basket positioned in front of the cat door so he can't get out again, we take him to our room and lift him on the bed. Last night he perched right on the edge, looking out the door, straining to get back out there. I gave him a combined cuddle-and-stroke and told him he was a good dog for trying but it was time to go to sleep. He looked up at me with sad puppy dog eyes. It made my heart break a little.
As long as The Cat lived, The Dog led a dilettante's life. It was for her to do the dirty work while he pranced and slept. But the torch has passed and something instinctual tripped in his brain. He has a job to do, by gum. All he wants now, in his little doggy life, is to fulfill his destiny.
Here's a fun website for the wonk in you. It's officially my favorite website ever. For the next few months anyway.
Moving on, there is a bittersweet situation in our house right now.
With the passing of our darling Phoebe, there has been an increase in vermin in our neighborhood. Oh, I haven't actually seen evidence of this, but she was a mouser of the highest order and kept this zone clear. She hunted down small creatures and then she killed them. Lots of times she ate them. Word got out and the smart ones stayed away.
For the last few days The Dog has been absolutely frantic. He has spent inordinate amounts of time barking and scrabbling at our compost bin. (It's a tub-like thing, with a lid. City issue. It looks kinda like Darth Vader's helmet). It sits on a thick plastic whaddaya callit...looks like a sieve and is designed to keep things from burrow up into the bin. Said bin is also bolted to the ground so that it cannot be upset by larger creatures, like raccoons.
But something has gotten in there, dammit, and The Dog is determined to get it.
Of course, he can't. The designs which were intended to keep creatures out work against him as well. Until he sees the whites of its eyes, that ratty boy is completely safe, free to burrow through the moldering coffee grounds and eggshells and banana peels to his nasty little heart's content. (Yes, I'm totally picturing Templeton from Charlotte's Web).
Every time The Dog is let out of the house he runs to the bin, plants his feet firmly and waits, nose pointing to the bin. He stands silently, every fiber of his doggy being trained on the bin and then, when he hears whatever it is he hears, he starts barking and scratching like a mad thing.
The rats, I'm sure, are laughing at him. "Oh, silly poofty dog," they say in their scritchy rat voices, "what do you think you can do, huh?"
If The Dog were able to speak Rat, he'd tell them that they should be very afraid, for he is descended from two noble breeds, both of whom have serious credentials. The poodle side of him makes him prone to sniffing out and retrieving things. (You didn't know poodles started out as hunting dogs, did you? That frou-frou trim that standard poodles get? Originally done to make it easier for them to swim). And on the schnauzer side, oh, the schnauzers. They were originally kept as yard dogs, guards and - please note - rat catchers. Yes! It is in his blood to get those rats and serve them notice.
If only he could. Oh, if only.
Every evening, after he's been dragged back into the house and the laundry basket positioned in front of the cat door so he can't get out again, we take him to our room and lift him on the bed. Last night he perched right on the edge, looking out the door, straining to get back out there. I gave him a combined cuddle-and-stroke and told him he was a good dog for trying but it was time to go to sleep. He looked up at me with sad puppy dog eyes. It made my heart break a little.
As long as The Cat lived, The Dog led a dilettante's life. It was for her to do the dirty work while he pranced and slept. But the torch has passed and something instinctual tripped in his brain. He has a job to do, by gum. All he wants now, in his little doggy life, is to fulfill his destiny.
Labels: Obama 08, political theater, The Dog
cobbled together by Moi at 6:27 AM
14 Comments:
I kind of like McCain, and that's what scares me. Other people will like him too, and they will vote for him.
I think it is time for a new cat. Monica? Rachel?
It is important to note, for the record, that the scariest thing about McCain is his insistence on keeping us in Iraq. But in many other respects he is fairly moderate, for a Republican, and his economic ideas are more fiscally conservative than the current crop. Which is all to say that he wouldn't be the worst President. Hi, we already know what that looks like. But still, while he may have more appeal among independents, I am still confident that either Hillary or Barak can beat him. It is also important to remember that the Democrats will very likely increase their margin in the legislature, which will have the effect of keeping a Republican president in check.
There will be a new cat in the spring. But she is already named. She will be Minerva McGonnigal, Minnie for short. Harry Potter rules.
OMG, that's a perfect name for a cat. And perhaps Albus if it's a boy?
Re: Edwards ... to take nothing away from the candidate or the man, it does occur to me that the Democratic nominee this year will either be a woman or a person of color -- a first for America, and so I'm rather looking forward to living that particular moment in history.
(fists to the heavens)
Boy, I'm doing a lot of that lately.
Ah well...another four to eight years of a Republican in the White House can't be too bad. (packs bags, thumbs to Canadia).
I had a cat who was a good mouser. Our first house was an old 1920's farm house, not ceiled well, and during our first winter there, the traps out-scored the cat. She had been an apartment cat for years. Subsequent years she learned the ropes and began to win over the traps, where I didn't need them anymore. (double-digit tally some years) She did a good job in the new house, too. She's been gone for a while and I miss her mousing ability greatly. I don't miss being awakened to claws in the toes when they poke out from under the covers.
This year I put some poison blocks outside where I saw some burrowing and nothing's gotten in the house since.
Love, love, love the prospective name!
Have you noticed the same actor played Professor Flitwick in all the movies but the makeup has been drastically different in recent films from the first one?
1) couldn't call in yesterday because we are out of cell phone minutes until February 1st. Next week I plan to call in. Especially if the shout it is for left handed French painters who do plumbing. I'm also not a blood-relative of Iwanski - I'm a rogue outsider. I get to comment on family life pre and post Iwanski.
2) did you ever go out and buy lime vodka?
3) isn't it so hard to predict which cats will be good mousers and which ones will just loaf?
4) the foilhat was really awkward for iwanski/winter, but i knew it was a sneaky trick all along. i think we need to leave the sneaky stuff for future episodes.
have a great day!
So, I watched the Decline of the Nation bullpuckie....Steve and I finally figured out what it is about the Bush that bothers us the most...aside from his personality, lack of brains and other stuff in general....he makes us feel like we are naughty kids for questioning his decisions and he expects respect no matter what....kinda like our mothers. Then I read the editorial in Vanity Fair the Jan. issue the one with Kathryn H-whatshername on it in a darling black and white outfit...and boy did he hit the GWB and Rudy Gutless thing on the head...HUBRIS. So, Edwards is out, Rudy got kicked to the curb as he should have, McCain I think is an OK man but he is RED, and yup, we will have a woman and a man of color. Gos seriously save us from Plastic Mitt. Now, for the kitten/cat/dog thing. Good for the dog for stepping up to the compost plate and trying to help. Violet the poodle was supposed to be a fouffy dog but she is true to her roots and is a hunter, loves water and caught an ugly little snake last summer....yes, it was in the sun room and Fuzzie had already had his way with the thing but still.....
Charlotte's Web was kind of a disappointment, I don't know why. I leave the why's to people like you who know how to dissect those thingies.
The Dog's story made up for it, though.
If I know my Germans,and I think I do,the Schnauzer genes in The Dog will figure out a way to invade those pesky rats..I'm sure annexing the compost bin will be involved.
Yes, what JP said about the cat, but not about McCain.
Maybe the dog and the rat will work out some sort of Ratatouille arrangement? At least until Minnie's arrival...
Maybe Dubya has a rat in his hat, signaling him what to do next ...
Politics: What Red7eric said is exactly what I was thinking.
Loved the post and I am so not gonna let so much time pass between visits to you.
Red, it'll be a girl cat. We have to keep the system balanced. Well, actually, it will tip the balance. Whatev. Girls rule.
And, yes, what you said.
Hat, come in off that ledge. Mmm...smell that? It's pie...
Anne, The Spouse put a trap in the compost...which will end up freaking me out one way or another, I'm sure. Can't do the poison thing, though, what with a ramblin' dog around.
Man, I miss Phoebe!
And you know, I did notice that during our last HP movie marathon.
Sfoofie: 1) good, 2) yes, 3) not if you get a farm kitty, 4) if they're gonna go global they have to have a strategery for them thar foil hats wot hate the UN.
And oh, my gosh, FYI, you were in my dream last night and you looked sooo fantastic and we were in a restaurant eating noodles that had been dropped in by helicopter because the restaurant was surrounded by water or something.
Rosie, I agree...his supercillious, father-knows-best 'tude is just the worst thing EVAH. It's what I hate most.
And see? People are all too willing to write off the poofty animals because they look poofty but looks are decieving. I heard that somewhere once.
Booda, for me "Charlotte's Web" was disappointing because Charlotte died and when I read the story I was too young to appreciate the notion of self-sacrifice and life going on in the form of 1000s of little spider babies carried safely in the cheek of a pig.
I love my Dog. He's a very good boy. If you meet him, he will kiss you on the mouth if you want him to. But if you don't want he won't, provided that you scratch his back.
Sling, you could be quite right about that; he's already built a high speed autoway from the kitchen door to the compost bin. Who knows what else he's capable of?
Mouse, does that mean that you do not like McCain or that you are not worried about people liking McCain?
CB: the rat manipulating W was the clown with the sneer sitting behind him.
Greeny, I think it might be the time of year...I'm not making the rounds like I used to either. Whatever...you just come by whenever you like. Lime vodka?
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