My Take
DiVoran Lites
Reblogged 2/18/18 from Old Things R New
Morning Dogs:
We walked into Lowe’s not expecting dogs
One tiny old and disabled Pekinese on a blanket in a buggy
One terrier carried by a young man
With an old man’s long scraggly beard
He shows the on-off light on the dog’s collar
This is for when he goes out at night
It’s for in case a hawk or some other creature
Of the night tries to get him.
Course we might just see the light lifting
And what will we do then?They let people bring dogs to Lowes now?
Yes, Walmart too especially service dogs
This one keeps me calm
I wonder if the young man
Has PTSD…an acronym for shell shock or
Battle fatigue. Or is he kidding?
Next, he says: they threw us out of a
dollar-type store.
I told ‘em they didn’t have to yell,
Just tell me quietly.
But back to Walmart.
They won’t allow dogs in the buggies
They say they ain’t sanitary
But what about babies in dirty diapers
Are they sanitary?
I bathe my dog once a week
Whether she needs it or not
I never take her into restaurants.
But his wife was already moving on
And I had lost my Will of the Wisp husband,
Somewhere in another part of the store.Afternoon dogs:
Walking the trail I hear deep, heartfelt baying
I figured hounds on the trail had a squirrel or
A raccoon run up a tree.
Small animals for such big dogs to chase
I rounded the corner and saw
A standoff. A man and a woman each
With a very large hound on a leash
And a mother far over on the trail
Hurrying past holding a terrier in one arm
And guiding her tiny daughter on her tiny
Tricycle with the other hand
I said to the mother as she passed
The woman was out for a pleasant walk with her dog and daughter
The hound couple were out for a pleasant walk with their hounds
When the woman and her charges were gone,
I asked what kind of dogs these were.
The man said, “Hounds” and pointed
That little dog barked first
The woman said this here one’s a lab/boxer mix
And that black one is a Blue Tick.
I waved and went on.
They came behind me but they had
To get off the trail for everyone who passed
When I came back up.
They were still coming down.
The Blue-Tick bayed at me in a different tone.
“Tell me all about it,” I said.
The man laughed, and then I hurried by.
It was a beautiful Saturday as I
Danced home to the sound of jazz.Source: Dog Saturday
Tag: Pets
The Hanger and the Flea
Jasmine, one of our cats, is at the vet and the other, Lily, is in Bill’s hanger with me. It’s his 12×16 foot private sanctuary. I usually don’t mess with it.
I’m sitting at a one person, plastic folding table with my wireless keyboard and mouse, as well as my precious thumb drive. We have wireless in the house, but our son-in-law who helps with our
computers has it protected. I’m going to my in-box now to see whether I can steal wireless from the house and use it in the hanger.
We’ll go back inside the house as soon as the new flea treatment dries. As it turns out Jasmine’s itchy skin is the result of her being allergic to the saliva of even one flea. Lily prowls, meowing, wanting to go HOME. Every time I look at her, I see spider-web fluff clinging to her whiskers.
Oh goody, I can access email. People have written to me! I’m not alone out here. Actually, the hanger is pleasant even though it’s full of model airplanes, parts, radios, even pictures of airplanes. It would make a great studio for painting or writing, maybe both. There’s no clear spot at any of the long worktables that surround the room—that’s why my folding table from the house is here. Bill has a sign that says, “A clean desk is the sign of a sick mind,” he believes it. There are four small windows—two in the back and two in the front with tiny blinds. I pick Lily up to let her see out the window. Naturally, she steps out of my hands and onto the sill. It’s only as wide as my little finger is long, but still, she fits her four paws onto it and crouches to sniff the fresh air coming through the screen. She can’t turn around or get up or down on her own, though. We’re going to be using the hanger once a month when the bug man cometh, so perhaps I’ll get cat window-shelves for out here.
I refused to believe we had fleas. We use the electronic insect repellers, and they work great, except for the occasional bug. The last few vets who looked for fleas on Jasmine didn’t find any, but her skingot so bad I tried a new vet, and when that vet combed, she found a flea. That’s when the pest control question came up. I hate chemicals, unless they’re saving someone’s life, but I love my cat, so pest control it is. When the bug man, as we call them in Florida, came out he walked through all the rooms intermittently shining a flashlight on his shoes and pant legs. I asked why he was doing that. He said in most houses fleas jump up. The last house, he said, had them springing up as if it were a Mexican fiesta. But he didn’t find any in our house. He searched the yard too — no fleas anywhere. But we signed up anyway, for one flea.
When I went back to get Jasmine in the afternoon, I learned that she has a bacterial infection and many allergies. In this week she’s been to the vet twice, boarded for enough hours to have to pay rent on her cage, has had a cortisone, an antibiotic, and comfortis, a once a month flea pill. This is an alternative/natural vet. I’m alternative/natural, but I suppose that sometimes you must compromise. I find that many times you have to compromise.
Except for dusting the windowsill, which was a dried ant cemetery, I didn’t change anything in the hanger, Could those have been termites, though, instead of ants? Bill’s going to have to have that shed fumigated. He’ll have to move everything off the floor—he’ll have to clean it. It was so good of him to let us use it, and now, we can use it more and more. I don’t think he’ll mind, do you?