BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Stormy Nights

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Here in the desert southwest we’re in the midst of monsoon season. Yes, that’s a real thing. The past three nights have brought huge storms with tremendous winds and rain.

Night one was the scariest. It started with a giant dust storm that swept through our area, whipping up leaves, debris, and dirt, and depositing a great deal of it into our swimming pool. The dust was following by a torrent of rain, and winds that just wouldn’t quit. Our metal shed couldn’t take the wind and slid around, banging into the adjacent wall. We didn’t realize that it was never secured in place. That will be remedied today.

Night one also did quite a bit of damage to trees in our area. Ours were spared, but our neighbor has two large limbs that are dangling precariously. I worry that the next storm might send them flying into my yard, or worse, into my home. Those limbs, however, are nothing compared to the giant limb that was ripped from one of the stately old trees in my school’s playground. Remarkably the district’s grounds crew had removed it by the next morning. I imagine they worked into the evening to clean up all the sites in our district. Kudos to them.

Night two had us a bit on edge, as we were concerned that it would be a repeat of night one, but in our area at least it wasn’t quite as bad. It didn’t bring the dust of night one, and the winds were slightly less fierce, based on the fact that the shed stayed in place during the storm. Unlike night one, that temperature barely dropped, making it uncomfortable to be outdoors.It was still quite a light show, with flashes and bolts of lightning entertaining us from a safe distance. My poor dog spent a second evening cowering in her kennel, convinced, I’m sure, that the world was ending.

Night three came in with a gentle rain that built steadily until it was a full fledged monsoon, complete with whipping winds and thunder and lightning. Again, there was less debris in the pool, mainly because most of it got dumped in there on night one. Again the shed stayed put, and again the dog cowered.

All three nights we watched the storm from our lounge chairs that we’d put under the patio cover, along with everything else that might blow away or get damaged. Nights one and three were nice and cool, relatively speaking, and I spent a good long time watching mother nature have her tantrums, but night two was hot and sticky and I retreated to the air conditioning after just a short time.

These storms are powerful and dangerous, but there’s no denying their beauty. As long as I’m safe at home and away from the lightning, I love a good monsoon. My poor dog can’t say the same.

 


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Doggy Dreams

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My Lila is asleep at my feet, and every now and then she lets out a long sigh.

Earlier she was making the most adorable sound, one that she only makes when she’s asleep. It’s not a cry or a whine or a woof, but sort of a hybrid of all three of those sounds. Clearly she’s thinking about SOMETHING when she’s doing that, but I’m not sure if it’s something good or bad.

Do dogs have nightmares? Are they afraid in their sleep? Do they see monsters and boogie men and lions and tigers and bears? Do they hear fireworks and thunder? Are they afraid of being abandoned?

Do they dream of hunting? Chasing down a rabbit or a squirrel? Do they dream about running on the beach and splashing in the surf? Or riding in the car with the window down and the wind flopping their ears? Do they dream of curling up on the couch next to their person at the end of the day?

I wish I knew what she dreams of. I hope it’s all good things. I never want that dog to feel fear or loneliness. She’s much too good of a companion for that.


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Runaway Roxy

I had the great pleasure of meeting an adorable older gal named Roxy recently. Roxy is a lovely steel grey miniature poodle with a sprinkling of white fur around her mouth, giving her a distinguished look.

The divine Miss Roxy came from our next door neighbors’ yard while we were all out festooning our properties with Christmas lights. I knew she wasn’t their dog, but they had company so I though she belonged to one of their guests. Well, Roxy kept on moving through our yard sniffing this and that and generally ignoring everyone.

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A Roxy look-alike

By the time we determined that she didn’t belong to any of us, she was on her way to the next yard. She wasn’t rushing, exactly, but she wasn’t holding still either. We grabbed some of Lila’s treats and tried to coax her, but she was having none of that.

I didn’t want to run up to her, because I was afraid she would bolt, and then she might end up in the street and who knows what could become of her. She had a collar and tag, so we knew she was someone’s pet. At last I caught up to her and was able to scoop her up.

Lucky for me, she was friendly, but I was taking a chance. I was a little leery about getting to her tag, a dog bite is nothing to trifle with, but she allowed me to check it out so I called the number on her tag. No answer. I called the second number, also no answer.

We put her on the leash, where she walked like she owned the block. I figured the best thing to do was start walking back in the direction from where she came. Maybe she would lead me to her home. It was only at that point that I wondered what I would do with her if we didn’t find her home. Gulp.

It turned out that I didn’t need to worry. As soon as we got to the next block, the folks working on the lights on the corner house greeted her with enthusiasm. Between all the in and out while working on the house, they had lost track of little Roxy, and Roxy decided to take herself on an adventure.

I’m glad Roxy’s story had a happy ending. It all goes to prove that my sweetheart is right, given the chance, most dogs will head for the hills, even if they don’t know where the hills are.