My Wee Irish Punk

My husband gave my three year old a mohawk. Now every time that I look at him, I hear the Pogues. "Dirty old town..."

Interview with Some Hounds

In spite of my husband calling me crazy, I have scheduled a phone appointment with a pet communicator. This is something that I have wanted to do for some time, but didn't really have the money to throw at such a frivolity. Since I have gone back to work, and I spend ninety eight cents of every dollar on Gunther's snack tab, I decided it was time to put a few cents towards something for ME. I personally know people who have used this particular animal communicator, and have had really amazing results. I am quite positive it's not a scam, despite what my husband says. I guess the proof will come after I have had my actual appointment, so we'll see.

This particular communicator is able to talk to animals both living and dead. She requested a photo of each animal to whom I plan to "speak", as well as some basic information about them (sex, age). I know, I know....she could potentially infer a lot of info from these pictures and fool me into thinking she's communicating with my dogs. I'm not going to believe anything she says because she knows we live in the country, and we have a brown couch, mmmmkay? I have an ounce of skepticism, but I am open to the experience.

  I have four animals on my list: my three living dogs, as well as a dog who passed about six years ago, Clyde. I have a limited amount of time for my session, so I need to manage it efficiently. I am in the process of listing questions that I have for each animal, starting with the most important stuff, and working my way down. Jules, my eleven year old coonhound mutt is the star of my interview, because, well.....because she is the smartest, I've had her the longest, and I feel like I can harvest the most information from her. I would like to know if she has any pain, or any issues that I could help her with, since she is an older dog. She seems incredibly healthy, but I want to know that she feels healthy too. Also, I think Jules will be my key in telling me exactly what went on with the recent wave of death at the farm. She tends to stay outside and "guard" the premises at night, while my two male dogs are snoring in their own puddle of slobber. Her knowledge of what has happened in the past few months is much more complete than any other being on the farm... I'm pretty sure.

When it comes to my communication with my seven year old, obese bluetick coonhound, Dan, I don't expect any earth-shaking revelations. I mainly want him to tell me if he has any physical ailments, or pain that we could help him with, and if there are things we could do to make his life better. I feel like he acts out a lot, and it's due to boredom. I am going to politely ask that he refrain from eating garbage, and stealing food from the kitchen counter....well stealing food in general. I want to thank him for being so tolerant of my children, who like to use him as a jungle gym.

I really don't know what to expect from Kaiser, our ten month old English mastiff. I want to apologize for our long days of absence. I wouldn't have adopted him if I knew that I would go back to work, and he'd be left alone so often. He's such a social dog, and I feel bad that we aren't around to keep him company. I want him to know that I am striving to be home more. My request of Kaiser is that he stop trying to use my bedroom window as a door. He has broken a couple screens already. It was funny at first, but now not so much. Also, it'd be nice if he could refrain from moving shoes around. The boys have approximately eight shoes with missing mates, and I love spending fifteen minutes looking for my second flip flop just so I can take out the trash.

Clyde is last on my list. He's a bluetick coonhound that we lost very suddenly to bloat several years ago. I hope that the pet communicator can somehow converse with him, as she claims to be able to do. My only question for him is if he comes around us still. I think he does. Also, I just want him to know that I love him tons, and I think about him every day. I have his collar around his urn, and I cry every time I have to dust it. The specific jingle of those tags just makes me think of him. I'd be so happy if I could simply say "hi".

Naughty Boys

Sometimes I wonder. I really do wonder what goes through my three, and almost five year old's heads. The other day they threw their lunch into the fan. This crime occured while I was busy with customers at the store, and they were in their playroom. Opportunists. When I asked who did it, fingers pointed in oppposite directions. I'm guessing the three and a half year old started it, but it looked fun so my almost five year old joined in. The picture does no justice. I had actually started cleaning up when I took the picture. The noodle mess, however, was more than that little dirt devil could handle. Pretty sure I'll be finding dried up noodles stuck to the wall for months. I didn't kill them. I am pretty sure that I deserve some sort of parenting award for not even hitting them.

Prey

There has been something stalking our little farm. It's a stealth shadow that moves with a quick shift of muscles. We have only seen small glimpses of his/her retreat. A chicken or two went missing. No biggie. That is almost a daily event here. Opossums, Skunks, Coyotes, everything eats chickens. We knew something else was up when Jules, our aging hound mutt, was on alert all night. She wouldn't come in the house, staying at the west end of our property barking, howling, yelling at something. We thought she was going to have another all night standoff , when to our surprise she scratched on the door for us to let her in. Before anyone could get to the door she made this unearthly cry as if she'd been hurt. Jason opened the door to see her run under the house, and a large shadow move quickly toward the creek bed. Jules didn't come out from under the house all night, despite us calling for her, offering cookies, pleading for her to just come out. I was seriously afraid that she was really hurt, and would die under the house. Early the next morning I let our giant mastiff puppy out to go to the bathroom. The sun had barely come up, and I was a little worried for his safety...because, well, because he is a dumb puppy. I stood guard while he did his business. Jules sprinted toward the door, not even looking left or right. She didn't leave the house for over twenty four hours.

A day or two later my favorite goat, Sarah, went missing. Sarah had a habit of sliding out of any pen we put her in. She was little and spry, moved like a tiny wild deer. I had bottle fed her, since her mother didn't take to nursing her, so she was very close to me. She was always around me whenever I went outside. I searched every corner of our property, and the creek that boarders us...sure she had just gotten stuck somewhere. Not a single sign of her. Gone. If there was any doubt that there was a mountain lion preying my pets up until that second, then the doubt was certainly gone at that second.

A few days later, another goat busted out. Jesus, my strapping young billy, had repeatedly rammed the gate to his pen and gotten loose. I tried to get him back in his pen with no success. I came home on a Saturday evening to find my husband's best friend "finishing him off" at bottom of the creek bed. Something had drug him down there, leaving him alive but just barely. Shooting him was the most "humane" solution. I didn't look at him for obvious reasons. I feel incredibly bad. If I had just gotten him in the pen.....but the baby was fussy, and my kids needed to eat dinner, I was tired. Excuses. Now I'm writhing with guilt. I will not get any more goats after my latest rash of death.

It has been said that mountain lions no longer exist in Oklahoma. That has been disproven recently: http://www.tulsaworld.com/sportsextra/article.aspx?subjectid=25&articleid=20111103_25_B2_TheOkl104743 . I've also noticed that almost any "old timer" I have questioned about this subject has at least one story. The old men who farm around my area may be prone to exaggeration, but not prone to full-on lies. Despite all the death, and fear this creature in our midst has caused, I am still intrigued. I'm glad that I live in a place where something so wild and wonderful exists.

zzzzzzz.......

I have no time to type anymore...see previous post. Our whole family is tired. I tell you what.

Covenience

I have been running a convenience store/gas station/service shop with my husband for a little over a month now. It's an interesting shift for our family. The kids come to work with me every day. They have a playroom in the back where they spend the majority of their time grinding cheetos into the carpet, and throwing toys all over the room. The other half of the time they come behind the counter and pester me for chips, or pop tarts, chocolate milk,or any other random piece of inventory that is their current obsession. Life is good when your parents own twenty thousand dollars worth of groceries (mostly junk food), or so they seem to think. My usual answer to their begging is "do you have any money?". Their response is always "no"...then they look at me like I am nuts.

While his brothers run amok, Axel kicks it with me behind the front desk most the day. I have a playpen, a bouncy seat and a bumbo seat for him there,but he spends 97.89% of his time in my arms. The child wants to be held ALL THE TIME. I run a cash register with one hand. Every other customer says "Wow. You have your hands full." I act like I have NEVER heard that, and say "Yes. You're right." Although "full hands" sounds like the understatement of the year when my three year old,and four year old are beating each other senseless right in front of the tobacco display, I'm soothing a crying baby, and waiting on a line of customers...oh and the phone is ringing too. "Wow. You have all four limbs stuck in a meat grinder." Seems like a more fitting phrase for me and my situation.


There are perks to having your own convenience store. I get to buy groceries professionally now, which is fun. I am guilty of buying an entire case of something just because it's something I want it, which does not necessarily mean that it will fly like hotcakes. On this note: Are mint M&Ms not appealing? I think they are damn good, but I don't think I have sold one bag to anyone, but me. I will be really depressed if I look at that empty box of 24 bags and realize that I have eaten every single one. Also, I get a rush when it is time to leave and I can shove anything I want in my bag. Last night I impulsively grabbed a root beer, which is not usually on the Audrey menu. "Why are you drinking a root beer?" my husband later asked, as if it was the oddest thing I've ever done. "Because I can." was my response, and I really have no reasoning other than that. I want it, and I can!

Liberation Day

This morning I was wondering why today was important as I shut off my alarm. What is March 5th? The ides of March? Nope. That's the fifteenth. Caesar won't get stabbed today. It's nobody's birthday. Huh. It's the day Jules was busted out of puppy jail. Ten years ago today Jason slapped down the fifty bucks it took to free Jules from the pound. We had no intention of adopting a dog that day. We just happened upon the Portsmouth, Virginia ASPCA. "Let's just go LOOK". Forty five minutes later we were in love, and there was a skinny, ten month old hound dog riding in my lap. That was the best fifty dollars Jason ever spent. Jules is still my number one girl ten years later. I love her so much.

Go get a pound hound. You'll never regret it.