Showing posts with label Defective animal gene. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Defective animal gene. Show all posts

Monday, February 11, 2008

Dog Show Day

It was a risky thing to do, I admit it. But the oldest wasn't feeling well, so I couldn't go along. I really couldn't. It's not my fault. Blame the oldest. (It was probably a conspiracy, now that I think of it.)

Here they are, ready for action. Those defective animal genes in high gear......



(For those of you unfamiliar with the defective animal gene, it is defined as "the inability to say "no" to any stray that comes within a 5 mile radius, the inability to say "no" to a shivery-scared-poor me look displayed by any animal in a pet store, and the inability to say "no" to anyone who asks you to take in the pet they have grown tired of." The gene also requires you to carry outside, all creatures (spiders, ants, mice, etc) that may inadvertently wander inside, and to cry inconsulably when you accidently step on any living thing).


Their senses queued up, ready to hone in on......



The Dog of our Family Dreams - a Newfoundland




Who is this guy with my prince and princesses? Get away! Don't you know these people have defective animal genes??



That's right. Turn around. Don't make eye contact. They bond easily you know. If they bond, it will be too late. You go dog, go. I'm not quite ready for you yet.....maybe one day.



I'm pretty sure I saw a business card or two in Prince Charming's hand when they came home....

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Animal Encounter Blessings

Why do these things always happen to us, to our family? Is it the genetic mutant animal gene? Is it because God knows we are open to these encounters so He "blesses" us with them? Things like this never ever would happen to the gardening sister, or the condo sister.

My kids and I were talking about memories yesterday.

Mom, do you remember that time we went to Florida and.....

Ah...yes.....


Our family was vacationing at Amelia Island, Florida one year, a few years back. We were collecting shells from the ocean just at that point where the waves roll in and crash. We had a system going. I would feel the really big shells with my feet, reach down and retrieve them, then hand them off to one of the kids who would take them to the beach where we could admire them and sort into "keep" or "put back".

I had just handed one off and was looking for the next, when my son yelled out...

Mom? "MOM!!! There's something sticking out of this one!"

Mind you, I hadn't really looked at it...I was kind of in a zone.... just me, the waves and the shells...

"Oh...it's OK. I'm sure whatever it is it's dead. Just put it with the rest."



"MOM! IT LOOKS LIKE AN OCTOPUS TENTACLE!"

"That's nice honey, now put it with the rest."

Obviously I was still in zone-mode and only half-listening...and that was so silly anyway...what were the chances of an octopus this close to shore?

"MOM! IT's CRAWLING OUT!"

OHMYGOSH! He was right! (I should have known...animal encyclopedias are his thing).

A real, live, unhappy octopus was crawling out of the shell --- the shell my son was holding in his hands.

But, don't call PETA yet, Prince Charming came to the rescue, grabbed the octopus in his bare hands (isn't he brave?) and tossed him back to sea.

We didn't even have a chance to grab the cameras. Prince Charming said the life of the octopus was more important than a scrap-booking moment. I'm sure Mr. Octopus thought so as well.

I hope he lived happily ever after.




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A2, the original photographer/srapbooking queen sent me this picture from her archives. This was the trip of the octopus. Maybe the Gardening Aunt will see how small this picture is and fix it. (hint)

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Mouse Mode

Yesterday Muncie was in the "Mouse Mode".



She focuses in on a spot and doesn't deviate. Her leg shakes, her back quivers, her whole being is on guard. It's never a good thing.

"Honey, she's in mouse mode again, can you set some traps?"

Here at the zoo, we only use live traps.

Several years ago, despite the 6 cats (well, I guess at that time we only had 2), we were having "Mouse issues." This happens periodically every since my mother (Eleanor/Grandma) built on her little haven, Maine Woods.

(Side note: She calls her room Maine Woods because when her 5 children were teens and preteens she always wondered if she ran off to the woods of Maine, would we be able to track her down and find her...But now that we're all grown up she likes us better, so I think the room on the back of the house is as far as we have to worry about her venturing).

Where was I?

Oh yes, the mice issues.....

So, this particular spring, we collected several mice which we would release into the wilds of the city. We made a big deal of it with the kids.

"This looks like a city park mouse."

We would take it to the city park and release it.

"This definitely is a bank mouse."

Bank mice usually showed up in the traps about the time Prince Charming would need to run to the bank. Interesting coincidence, don't you think?

This particular Saturday, it was a Dental rat. There happens to be a dental office at the entrance to our neighborhood, and this particular day we were off to the Big City to do some site seeing, thus, thought we would release the mouse on our way out of the neighborhood.

The children were with us, saying their good-byes as we drove down the street. I know this sounds unusual, but you have to understand that with our mutant animal gene, often I would come home to find that Prince Charming had set these captured mice up in style until an opportunity for release came. This meant their own palace complete with food, exercise equipment, water, etc. The whole enchilada. Sometimes they would spend a few days with us until being re-released into the wild.

So, there we are, releasing Mr. Mouse at the Dentist office.

"Let's drive around the corner and watch him run into the woods."

We ease forward slowly, not wanting to scare or frighten Mr. Mouse. We turn the corner just in time to see the unimaginable....

Mr. Giant Hawk sweeps out of the sky, plucks Mr. Mouse up into his razor sharp talons, and carries him off into the distance.

We still have not recovered from the trauma. And no..... life will never be the same again.