Posts Tagged With: Boston Terrier

Let this be a cautionary tale, if you replace your roof either board the dog or prepare to drink heavily.

Lulu has taken to her bed.

Lulu has taken to her bed.

Lulu and I survived the installation of the new main and front porch roof. When the roofers arrived at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am they began removing the old shingles. This activity produced a sensation of the house shaking and swaying. It was like being on some godforsaken carnival ride, the kind you agree to ride to appease a 5 yr. old. The sort of ride were once seated you begin to question your own ability to gauge personal safety. Then before you know it the ride ramps up and you find yourself fervently praying that the carnies tightened all of the nuts and bolts. Throughout the duration of the ride you envision yourself being thrown like a sack of wet cement onto the unforgiving blacktop. That kind of ride.

Lulu and I being accustomed to a stationary structure around us found this shaking sensation very unsettling. Then there was a lull in the shaking and old shingles began raining down past the windows. At first this new development intrigued Lulu. I expect she thought it was a new sort of prey to be hunted and killed. Her intrigue was short lived. The shaking began again. It should be noted that upon the shaking of the house,the forbidden tootsie roll makers (the cats) exited the premises like rats abandoning a sinking ship. Their loyalties are best summed up as conditional. Lulu however, being loyal, stayed by my side.

Needless to say we survived the house shaking. As the roofing efforts continued the shaking was replaced by the sound of the nail gun. For those of you unfamiliar with the noise a nail gun produces; the closest I can approximate it to would be the sound of small arms munitions going off in successive volleys, for hour after hour after hour. This racket was accompanied by the sound of an air compressor. It was thumping along like rotors on a deranged helicopter. All of this was punctuated by Lulus near continuous, stacco, backwards barking.

The noise continued unabated for hours like some sort of medieval form of torture. My nerves were frazzled and Lulu was exhausted. When I saw the bossman arrive to collect payment I was relieved. It isn’t often that I am happy to hand over large sums of money to others but today was different. The bossman accepted the payment and regaled me with the wonders of the new shingles as I signed the invoice. He told me that the shingles came with a 50 yr. guarantee. I looked up at him, pen still in hand and giggled. I think I may have scared him when I said with an obvious hint of delight, “Ohhh that means they will outlive me!” He smiled quietly and told me I could keep the pen I had used to sign the invoice. No doubt he was hoping I would be distracted from the topic of my previous comment.

In retrospect, I suppose he did not know how to interpret my delight that the shingles would outlive me. Little did he know I was not excited at the prospect of my own mortality but simply giddy that I would not be experiencing such a day again. I, thinking the project near completion was devastated to hear him say, “Oh and we will be finished here in another 2 or 3 hours.” My happiness collapsed into a weary wave of despair. I shook my head in affirmation of his comment and walked back into the house. The next few hours passed as did the preceding ones, in an unrelenting nerve wracking cacophony of noise.

Once the roofers were packed up and left the premises the cats nonchalantly wandered back into the house like nothing happened. Lulu has taken to her bed in a state of utter exhaustion. Tomorrow she will be happy to see us go to work so that she can sleep all day. I am hoping that the shingles do indeed last 50 yrs or more! Next project, painting the porch! Quietly.

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Installment 2 of the Claw and Fang Society: Dead Chipmunk Running. He chose his fate.

This story has been moved to my animal specific blog

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Write a Story

Try writing a story. Take a small but unusual event that has happened to you and record it. It doesn’t have to be long or complicated. You can set it up in any format that you like. The details are for you to decide. This isn’t English class. There are no rights or wrongs, just try.

Here is one of my more recent stories. I use my own style and formatting, why? Because I like it that way!

Enjoy- Mary

The Claw and Fang Society presents:

Mouse in the House Chapter 1:

A herd of cats and one terrier with free range to the house and yard and still a mouse managed to take up residence under the refrigerator. Really? Omg. Off to buy mouse traps tomorrow.

Mouse in Our House Chapter 2: The Search Begins

Last night the moving of the refrigerator commenced. No mouse was found but he did leave behind his DNA. Scrub, scrub, scrub the mousies stink away. Hmmm… no mouse to be found.

So today I got Lulu ready, I assumed Tim cat was available on standby, as he was right there. I ripped off the cardboard grill on the back of the fridge and…out POPS, yep he POPPED, that mouse! And then he RAN across my foot. I screamed, the mouse jumped straight up into the air and down and then scurried away, all the while I am yelling “Get it Lulu, get it, get it!” And what did Lulu chase you ask? Lulu ran in a different direction after a dust bunny that also popped out of the back of the fridge. As I was doing a ninja dance and screaming at Lulu to get it; Lulu was after a dust bunny, Tim cat raised his head and looked at me quizzically. Then he looked around and went right back to sleep. Obviously, this mouse was not meant to die today, but there is tomorrow.


Tim Cat “The Ever Vigilant”!

Mouse in Our House Chapter 3: The Dispatching.

10 pm last night, upstairs. The cats had a mouse, I didn’t know if it was the kitchen mouse or one they brought in, but either way they wouldn’t kill it. No, like some sort of sociopathic serial murderers, their intent was to torment it to death. I don’t like mice but I hate seeing things tormented. It was obvious that no cat was going to give this poor rodent a quick death and there was no way that I was going to kill it myself.

I decided, in what I considered a brilliant strategic offensive move, to throw the wastebasket over it. Yes! All of those hours of playing RISK had paid off! (For those of you unfamiliar with RISK, it is a game of skill and strategy which obviously comes in handy when addressing critical junctures in one’s life such as world domination and mouse catching.)

This move solved the problem of the mouse running amok but left me with a logistical and moral dilemma. Do I try to get the mouse from under the basket and let it loose outside? No, the thing had a broken leg and who knows what else, so a lingering death would be the outcome there. If I tried to slip something under the basket I ran the risk letting the mouse loose. Ugh.

Time for Lulu to redeem herself! Off I went, downstairs and woke up Lulu (she sleeps on the couch because of her snoring and a propensity to chase the cats for her own amusement regardless of the time, be it day or night). “Lulu, Lulu”…she looked at me sleepily. Raising her head she yawned and gave me the stink eye. “Lu, I have a job for you, wake up.” Yawn and stretch and she got up, no doubt thinking big dogs finally lost it. I emphatically pointed at the steps and said “Come on we have to go upstairs. You have to get the mouse, upstairs.” She looked at me, looked at the stairs and looked at me again. “Upstairs, come on.” I said, trying to feign enthusiasm.

Lulu dutifully darted up the stairs. The cats scattered in all directions. I quickly closed all of the doors so only the hallway and the mouse under the basket were available to Lulu. Eureeka! I thought I had hit the mouse dispatching formula! Umm, ya… no.

Lulu saw me standing in front of the bathroom door, even though the door was closed, she surmised I wanted to give her a bath. She eyed me warily and went to go back downstairs. Lulu began to slink away around the corner of the landing towards the staircase.

This is was when I resulted to, well, what amounted to me begging a 32lb. dog to rescue me from this crisis. “Lulu come on, come on, look here, come, get the mouse.” She stared at me suspiciously. I could just imagine what she was thinking… big dog is saying the wrong words for bath, hmmm no bath? I tapped on the wastebasket…”under here come get the mouse.” She must have gotten a whiff of the mouse smell because she barreled towards the basket like the doors were just opened at a Walmart on Black Friday.

Lulu stationed her face right to the base of the basket, eagerly squirming with delight. I knew what was coming, this wasn’t Lulu’s and my first mouse rodeo.  I clenched my teeth and tilted the basket up, Lulu dove into the basket and the mouse was no more. Lulu ran down the steps with her macabre prize and spit it out on the living room floor. I praised Lulu up and down for being a good dog. Then I disposed of the body.

After all of this, I have decided two things: 1. That mouse had some seriously bad karma and 2. It’s going to be a long summer.


  LuLu the Redeemed.


Continuing chapters can be found at my animal specific blog

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