(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 06-16-19)
Now many of you are aware of my current living sitch (kidding…seriously, just kidding. If I ever actually use “sitch” instead of situation, like here, in the future, or any abbreviation of the kind, or use any acronyms for that matter I give you full permission to swat me about the head with something blunt or maybe soggy heavy or even poke me with a pointy stick).
So, beginning again, many of you are aware of my current living situation but for those who aren’t I have a wonderful two bedroom place above a three car garage in the house of a landlady (Celie) who owns/runs an animal shelter and sanctuary. For all of the complaints I may have about living paycheck to paycheck and the difficulties that presents, of just being able to get by, where I, and my Bella and the Unintentionals lay our heads is not one of them. It’s a best of spots. The Unintentionals by the way (not btw) are Mimi the Quirky, Cricket the Blind and a new big guy named Duke who I’ve come to simply call Dude, ’cause, well, he seems like one, and who came to be here from a sad situation that I won’t go into (we’ll keep him well Hope, I promise you). Suffice to say he’s here at the moment and just needs to get along with my Bella and said Unintentionals, the Band if you will. He has some windows with plenty to see, a sort of cat TV, drama’d with the stories of cows and horses and chickens and roosters and cats and dogs, is fed well and has a cat guy who gives him kisses on the forehead. For a new misplaced dude? I hope that is, at least, some of what he could have wished for.
One of the things that has fascinated me from day one, Celie and I were talking of this this morning as a matter of fact, is how all the fur here get along, and there is a lot of fur. There are seven dogs, Pea, Polly, Chrissy, Eve & Senta (the big, really big, I mean wolf size big, German Shepherd sisters who thankfully have never thought of eating me) little Spanky (who has also never thought of eating me though I’m sure I could fend off the ankle advances) and a new bouncy, belly rubs welcome small one who I’ve named Georgia. Initially I came to call her “Gorgeous”. There is a cat here named Handsome so why not a dog named Gorgeous I thought? Then Gorgeous morphed into Gorgeous George (as for some reason I remembered an old wrestler) and then Georgia. The naming thing can be a process.
There are also numerous cats starting with Bruce, who is the man, and on down. Honey Bob Tail “Boo”, Cujo (who earns his name on occasion), Dolly, Sharky, Penny, Buck, Florida, Millie, Lola, Handsome, Trucker, Little Mama…and that’s only in the house. There’s also Dutch, Spud, Curly, Lumpy, Ghost and the B&W twins who come and go through a cat/dog door in the garage and lest we not foget the couple of nameless ones who have comfy spots on the front porch. I think I got everyone, apologies gang, to any of you I may have missed. And there’s new kittens, baby raccoons, baby skunks and even baby groundhogs all underneath my ass in the garage, the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, the sun room, the little barn and the big barn etcetera etcetera etcetera. It’s a wonder of all spots here, all filled with fur and life, life just looking for care and it is a LOT of care. Cheers to you Celie, Momma Doolittle, for that, for them. As my Dad would have said “You’re a better man (Woman) than I am Gunga Din”. Miss you Dad.
Anyway, as to the getting along and what this long winded post is leading up to? Just a couple of perfect pictures (not pics) that exemplify this coexistence. A (daddy) Pea and a couple of the latest arrivals…plus my new misplaced friend.
Here’s to still breathing and still being able to note our lives.