Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Good Dogs, Bad Cats?

Those are the sayings, but it's not so simple.

Over several years of living in the same place, you might learn the names of your neighbor's pets.
Not all of them--for example, I don't care to learn anything about the 3 weinerdogs across the street because they're assholes.
I work in my yard all the time and really wish they would get used to it.
Shut up!
The new city trash barrels keep them from tearing open my garbage bags when they escape at night, which might be the best part of automated refuse pickup!

While watering last week this big fellow ran up to me, then hung around for 10 minutes or so.
Note the eyes.
Obviously not a Husky (there's a breeder around the corner) so I'm guessing Malamute or a Husky/Collie mix, but what the hell do I know about dogs?
His long hair flowed hypnotically with every step like some breeds at the Westminster Dog Show's main ring during the finals, so I was very impressed...until he maneuvered upwind of me.
This boy smelled!

Bad enough that I never touched him despite a strong desire to feel that fur.

Then he plopped-down on my wet grass, which couldn't have helped.
Bet he was running away from a bath when he found me.
Never learned his name, but probably will eventually.

(The photo doesn't really convey just how enormous this dog was).

This happened around midnight:
I heard a crash outside last night and did a window-peek.
Saw the trashed petunias, then caught a glimpse of a skinny cat shadow walking around our car.

There are two main suspects--Bucky and Willy.
Bucky has been featured here before, but at the time I had been mis-hearing his name when called for dinner as Lucky.
Interesting title on that link...a recent chat with his owner set me straight.

But I suspect it was Willy, Bucky's little brother by two or 3 litters who has been hanging around our house a LOT lately.
He spends his afternoons lounging in the grass in our backyard, then comes back late at night to sleep on a chair on our patio.
In fact, he's in the chair right now!

Willy's probably afraid of possums and deer and 'coons lurking in the dark on the sides of the houses in my 'hood, so he climbs our fence then jumps onto the roof and walks over to the front, where it's a short jump to the decorative brick wall that gives our sidewalk and porch some privacy.
We keep flowerpots on top of the wall, which makes it challenging for the cats.
A bad landing probably--hit the pot of petunias and scared himself silly.
No hard feelings, Willy.

I used to like Willy because he was silent, unlike his brother who won't shut his meow-hole if there's anyone around to listen.
But around 10pm tonight we were startled by something banging against our patio door, mere inches from the couch as we watched TV.
It was Willy hunting grasshoppers.
He also gets on the table under our porch light and goes after moths and geckos.
2 days ago I watched him play with a baby toad, and 2 months ago I saw him kill a lizard for fun and practice.

I guess the title should have been Smelly Dogs, Wild Cats.
For the record, I prefer the survival-oriented behavior of cats.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Yes And No

Very nice Camaro!
Clean, powerful, and from the era when I first fell in love with Detroit Muscle Cars.
Had the Hot Wheels car of this, but in dark blue paint.
I approve.

On closer examination, I'm conflicted.

LA Lakers fans are tools.


Sunday, June 13, 2010


The three prime tables at RevRoom were already reserved when I got there.
Sloppily-torn strips of paper taped to the tables said so, written with a pen that'll never be accused of being bold.
Then these fine-ass folded signs were added, and they really hit the mark before sagging:

Yeah, it says "R S V P", which is French for Are you coming the fuck over or what? Let me know.

My actual problem is that the Reservers didn't show up until 11:20pm to take possesion of their respectfully vacant tables and chairs, while the rest of the club was already bursting at the seams.
That's bullshit, especially when they didn't even need all 3 tables and the one in the photo is where I prefer to place my equipment.
The crappy sign kept my favorite location empty and unproductive until I snapped and ripped it out.
Installed a trio of bikers there to stabilize my borders.

Yes, a sash is in my photo.
There's a first time for everything.
By all reports (I was 2 busy 2 look) it said "Bride 2B", so of course I was dealing with classy people who still didn't bother to RSVP that third table.