Critter Update

For the longest time, I always thought of Freya Fishwhore as the typical nit-witted nitwit, with all the brains and wisdom that graces a turnip.

Mostly, I'm right, however... Freya Fishwhore can talk. I know, I know, you think I've been in quarantine too long, but I'll have you know that I've rather enjoyed quarantine because being around people makes me anxious. Staying home is good. There's plenty to do. I have a computer.

Occasionally I get the urge to take a car ride and make sure the rest of the world is still getting it's mail delivered to the planet. It is, and I'm done.

Anyway, Freya has developed a rather rudimentary (and occasionally just plain rude) vocabulary. It started one fine evening, when Tammie and I were sitting around and Freya came in and stated, "I'm a cowww!"

Tammie and I looked at each other and she said, "Did she just tell us she thinks she's a cow?"
"Yes. I do believe she did. I don't know if I should correct her for being wrong, or praise her for talking about it."

Several months later, she stood outside the bedroom door and said, "Mooommmmaaa" in her most plaintive voice. Tammie was in there, trying to nap. It was sweet. And a little annoying. It's very difficult to sleep when someone keeps yelling for you.

Recently she got a little sassy when she wanted to go hang out by herself in the bedroom. Tammie asked, "Don't you think you've been in there by yourself long enough?" and the answer was quite clear: "No."

We'd love to get this on video, but she's a typical feline when it comes to cooperating, and falls silent the moment the phone is aimed at her.

Rocky is still Rocky. His eating habits are bar none, the most irritating thing about him. Well, that and the ability to take up the entire loveseat by himself. And overreact about everything. But the eating! Sheesh.

Right now, he's working on his breakfast. Mind you, it's 11:50 in the morning and we usually feed the hounds around 6:00. But Rocky rarely eats then, for whatever reason. If we leave his bowl down, he will spend the entire day guarding it. He won't move, he'll bark at anything that looks at his bowl. Even me.

So, today, Tammie is feeding him, a few kibble at a time, by dropping them on the floor for him to scavenge. She's thrilled. It's a good thing she adores the hell out of that dog, let me tell you.

Douglas is doing very well. He's lost enough weight we cannot call him a sausage any more. He has found a new purpose in life, and that is taking over everything. He can jump up on the furniture and snuggle with whatever human happens to be sitting there. His favorite thing in the world is to cuddle up next to a person and have Thor join in the pile. Then Douglas will clean Thor's ear until he's tickling the single working brain cell inside that damn cat's head. Then Thor will turn to get the other ear cleaned out. It makes them both happy.

Miss Bitte is fine. Just fine. The new residents are annoying, although jumping onto the back of the recliner is a lot more fun now. The old woman who sits there makes all kinds of interesting noises. But she always has at least one chihuahua in her lap, so there's no going in for a scritch, despite the magic fuzzy blanket of warmth. It's quite the conundrum for her furry little brain, warm place with chihuahua, or high perch and the knowledge that her presence is annoying. Such a dilemma.

Then there's "Teeny" the dog that came with Tammie's mother.

Let's just fast forward to the point where we can go for a mile walk at a reasonable pace and no one dies. When she first got here, I got her to the end of the driveway and half way to the corner before she had to be carried back. She's an older dog, but no one seems to recall how old she is. She's also discovered what it means to be a dog and have the run of a secure yard (with grass!) and only two limited meals per day. Two meals of a single serving each! Plus some kibble snacks for good behavior.

She's a sweet little thing, and has decided I'm pretty cool, mainly because I take her for walks where she can sniff at giant piles of bear poop, snuffle around the coyote poop, and bark at raccoon poop. She will also leave her contribution to the poop parade, usually at the doorstep of the local wild rabbit warren in the vacant field of blooming sneeze (a.k.a. Scotch broom). Her likes include, ignoring the boy dogs, chasing Miss Bitte (that cat is gonna wallop her a good one soon), snacks, breakfast, snacks, dinner, walkies with Karen, pooping, and visiting the rhubarb. She also loves Rocky's favorite teddy bear and will give it a vicious shaking and play tug-o-bear with it, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ROCKY!!!

Her dislikes: loud noises, walking when the wind is blowing (unless it's blowing from behind her), tall grass (which, when you're a chihuahua, is pretty much everywhere), and being told NO! especially if it involves food. Tammie carries scars from trying to get her to drop something she shouldn't eat.

Thor is still the dumbest cat on the planet and I really don't like him. He's taken to finding new and creative places to take a dump, and has also taken up the hobby of bathtub peeing. Really. I do not like that cat. His only redeeming quality is my darling love adores him. If she didn't, he'd be an outdoor cat.