Princess

So I got up around 2 a.m. to work on my taxes and wandered into the living/work room. 

Sitting in the middle of Missy's dog bed was not on Alaskan Malamute but a huge, bug-eyed frog.  It just sat there staring at me very calmly. 

Of course I freaked out.  Panic mode! Someone has turned my princess into a frog!

Ran outside and whew!  There she was, sleeping under the moon, my sweet Missy.  It was just a frog. 

I tiptoed around it gingerly and in the morning it was gone.  And my taxes were done.

Sad Old Dog

Missy has been convincing me that she is a sad older dog -- walking slowly, sighing, sleeping a lot, not eating her food with the usual gusto.  So of course I thought I could trust her.  As usual, she was simply keeping an eye on the groceries and lulling me into a state of lowered vigilance.

Case in point:  The other day I took a pizza out of the freezer and put it in the toaster oven.  Missy uncharacteristically showed no interest and continued to slumber on her dog-bed.  Suspecting nothing, I left the pizza on on the counter to cool and took a phone call.

On my return, there was no pizza anywhere no be found, only a very self-satisfied Malamute licking her chops and twinkling her snappy brown eyes at me.

It was really good, only not the green peppers -- Missy out

Late Whale Watch

Went for a late whale watch with Sue L. from Alberta, what a a hoot!

Left from Maalaea Harbor this time, just beautiful,

toodled around the gorgeous West Maui Mountains.  Unusually green and fuzzy at this time of year.

Followed a trio of 2 males and a female, discovered a female with an adorable baby -- spent the rest of the time watching mama teaching the baby tricks like slaps and breaches.  Too cute!  Hard to remember the pup is as big as a bus itself ...  Stopped off to see the turtles.  What a great trip.

Topped off with drinks at Buzz's, of course.  Next time, the Ocean Center to visit the rays.

Pacific Whale Foundation

Batshit Crazy Birthday

For a 56-year-old, I'm still pretty strong.  How did I find out?

Well, it was the single gal's worst nightmare.  I got locked into the bathroom!  Did Missy go for help or unlock the door from the outside?    Noooooo, she had a nice nap throughout.  I tried to use the scissors and stuff available to remove the hopelessly locked doorknob, but no luck.

So I kicked out the door.

Seriously.

I went batshit crazy, got all claustrophobic, and started kicking at the door.  First a little hole next to the doorknob to try to open it from the outside -- nope, locked -- then a huge hole big enough for my enbonpoint to crawl out of.  Got big sratches up my legs from the wood, but hey, I was a Amazon!  A Cowgirl!  A Badass Bitch!  Kicking down a door!!! Booyah!

Smacked by a dog

Hmmm, Missy is pretty sparky for a fourteen-year-old.

Yesterday we were getting ready to hit the beach.  I loaded up the car and then went to call Missy, who was howling in the house.

I opened the back gate and leaned down to catch her, but she barreled straight into my face, smashing me against the water spigot.  I was wearing sunglasses which took the brunt, but still got a good egg on the temple and a shiner this morning. 

Of course Missy ran out into the drive and had to be caught and cajoled into the car.  What a character!

Can't a dog barf anymore?

Without being dragged off to the vet?

I suppose my humom did not terribly enjoy being awakened at 2 a.m. by my robust retching right outside her window.  Not to mention three more times before 8 a.m.  In any case, she hit the panic button and called the vet, and there I was getting osculated and palpated and every other -ated.  Never mind that I'm a Malamute and Mallies eat everything on earth and then sometimes we barf.  No, humom had to get all flustery and have me Tested.  

Getting Tested at the vet means the girl has to try to find a vein.  First she tries one arm and stabs around with no luck.  Then humom suggests shaving some of my thick fur, and they have better luck in the other arm, by which time I am thoroughly Fed Up.  Fortunately, the girl has some primo cookies.

The blood tests, of course, show that I am in the prime of life and in superb health.  The vet opines that I have "garbage gut" -- not nearly as elegant as my usual designation of Cast Iron Stomach.  

Several hundred dollars later, we're back home where I have a hearty dinner and make plans for something really appalling for this 2 a.m.
--- Missy out

Unsympathy

I keep having to learn that Missy is a dog.  A Malamute, no less.

I've been really sick recently and what do I get from the beast? An ounce of sympathy? Any consideration? Nuh-oh way in hell. 

Her Excellency the Queen of the Universe expects to be walked and played with and if I've got my head in the toilet or am lying on the floor groaning the quiet groans of the moribund, well, that's just too bad. Up and at 'em!  The Miss woooos and howls and whines and vocalizes up a storm to let me know her royal displeasure. 

Does she come and give me a gentle hug or a bit of companionship? Fuhgeddaboudit. She's all about talking the neighbor into taking her for a run.  This is an over-13-year-old dog who doesn't really run much anyway.  But she does like her routine, and that includes being waited on paw and claw.

And?  --- Missy out