Wednesday Wine & Write
For the past 11 days, I have been house sitting for a friend. This includes looking after a menagerie consisting of three dogs and one cat. From frozen peanut butter bones to afternoon drags (sometimes called "walks") near the local waterfall; I hope I have made good impressions on the pups.
Buffy, the seventeen- yes -seventeen year old cat, who I've dubbed Buffy Willie Nelson, graces us with howling, child labor-sounding vocalizations at approximately 4:30 a.m. daily. She demands her Fancy Feast be delivered promptly at dinner, and that I mash it up into petite size pieces. I'm assuming this helps maintain for the tomcats.
Charlie, who was described by the owners as the "poet" of the family has proved true to his description. He can often be found laying down alone in a dark bedroom, or listening by the door as I pee. He seems the sensitive type, that Charlie; a German Shepherd mix who is slightly addicted to sticks.
Logan, I've found, is a war hardened veteran, who has one penetrating crystal blue eye. He calmly sits by my side and trots slowly around with me wherever I go. Except for bedtime. (Understandably, he's had a rough day). The way he sighs.. If only he could describe to me the things he's seen, things he's done. I could live a thousand years and never understand the trials this 9-year-old Catahoula has faced, or so it seems.
Zoey is an undeniable juvenile delinquent. Who knows what would've became of her life if these kind people never picked her up? Whatever is the equivalent of doggy college dropout-turned stripper, became Zoey. The black pointer mix is as cunning as she is cuddly. She angles her paw into the cat's bowl with delicate precision, sliding it to the edge of the counter with ease. She ate my entire dinner my second night, then slumped over in exhaustion, her full belly protruding. She definitely knows how to get her way, and the poor boys of the house are wrapped around her little front paw.
All in all, I've had a great time with the animals. I will miss their sweet faces and tenacious hugs the most, least of all: the groin-licking.
Justin, Paso Robles. 2011.
Buffy, the seventeen- yes -seventeen year old cat, who I've dubbed Buffy Willie Nelson, graces us with howling, child labor-sounding vocalizations at approximately 4:30 a.m. daily. She demands her Fancy Feast be delivered promptly at dinner, and that I mash it up into petite size pieces. I'm assuming this helps maintain for the tomcats.
Charlie, who was described by the owners as the "poet" of the family has proved true to his description. He can often be found laying down alone in a dark bedroom, or listening by the door as I pee. He seems the sensitive type, that Charlie; a German Shepherd mix who is slightly addicted to sticks.
Logan, I've found, is a war hardened veteran, who has one penetrating crystal blue eye. He calmly sits by my side and trots slowly around with me wherever I go. Except for bedtime. (Understandably, he's had a rough day). The way he sighs.. If only he could describe to me the things he's seen, things he's done. I could live a thousand years and never understand the trials this 9-year-old Catahoula has faced, or so it seems.
Zoey is an undeniable juvenile delinquent. Who knows what would've became of her life if these kind people never picked her up? Whatever is the equivalent of doggy college dropout-turned stripper, became Zoey. The black pointer mix is as cunning as she is cuddly. She angles her paw into the cat's bowl with delicate precision, sliding it to the edge of the counter with ease. She ate my entire dinner my second night, then slumped over in exhaustion, her full belly protruding. She definitely knows how to get her way, and the poor boys of the house are wrapped around her little front paw.
All in all, I've had a great time with the animals. I will miss their sweet faces and tenacious hugs the most, least of all: the groin-licking.
Justin, Paso Robles. 2011.
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