Thursday, January 03, 2008, 15:00
The Best-est Time Ever!
If our little Shetland Sheepdog, Pixie, could talk, I know what she would say.
"This is so much fun! I LOVE cleaning the house!"
Wednesday, Pixie had a very good time. In preparation for my (okay, I'm back; I had to stop to rescue my mailing labels from Snowflake. The ones I put on the flap of envelopes that say "Buy the books; ruralroute2.com" I order the labels, along with address labels, in big rolls of a thousand and put the rolls in a plastic bag so I can get at them when I need them. The end of the roll was sticking out of the bag, and my little black kitty cat grabbed the end, pulled and proceeded to chew on the labels -- sigh.)
Anyway, Pixie had a very good time Wednesday. In preparation for my Christmas party on Saturday, I decided it was a good time to wash some quilts, blankets and afghans. Pixie loves washing clothes. Well, not the washing so much. It's the drying. I turned the dryer on about a dozen times, giving Pixie a dozen excuses to bark joyfully at the dryer. She got to bark at it when I first turned it on, and then again and again when I stopped it to check to see if the quilts, blankets and afghans were dry.
Pixie just loves to bark at the dryer. She's a Shetland sheepdog, and in the absence of sheep to herd, I think as far as Pixie is concerned, the dryer will have to do. My first Sheltie Krissy (Kristina of Wyndcliff -- that was her registered name) loved to herd the lawn mower.
Now, the lawn mower I can kind of understand because it moves. Pixie loves to herd the lawn mower, too, except she's not quite as dedicated at it as Krissy was. We actually would have to put Krissy in the house because she would bark until she made herself sick on a hot summer day barking at the lawn mower. Pixie barks until I yell at her to stop, and then she retreats to a shady spot where she can keep an eye on me -- or on the lawn mower, really.
Pixie had fun last night, too, when Randy got out the vacuum cleaner to go over the living room carpeting. She had a ton of fun earlier in the week as well while I was cleaning my office. I used the vacuum cleaner to clean all the nooks and crannies as I moved and sorted things in my office, and every time I turned it on, here would come Pixie.
Painting
Pixie was glad, I think, about Randy using the vacuum cleaner in the living room Wednesday evening seeing as I wasn't do anything nearly so much fun -- I started painting the bathroom. But while Pixie does not think painting is anything to write home about, Snowflake, on the other hand, is fascinated.
I kept the bathroom door closed most of the time while I was working, except when I had to paint by the door and had to open it and turn on the hallway light so I could see what I was doing. Snowflake must have brushed against the wet white paint because now she's got streaks of white along her right side.
When I started painting above the towel rack, Snowflake sprawled out on the counter below, watching carefully. She got up at one point and put her paws up on the wall, stretching toward the paint brush. It was then that I decided I ought to put Snowflake out of the bathroom and close the door again.
Doorstop help
I will have to close the door again today, too, while I'm painting so I don't get so much help from Snowflake. I am hoping she won't drive me crazy, reaching under the door with her paw to grab the doorstop.
Do you know how much noise doorstops (the "spring" kind with a rubber tip) make when a cat is thwanging it with her paw? Snowflake does that, too, while I am taking a shower. It means she wants to get in the bathroom. If Randy is home, he comes and lets her in. Then she gets up on the counter to wait -- or sits on the rug waiting. She worries, I think, that I am doing such an un-cat like thing as standing in running water.
Of course, in addition to Pixie helping with the office, I had Sophie's assistance. I don't know why, but Sophie was fascinated with the whole process. She would find a relatively safe corner and would then sit and watch. I haven't been working much in my office lately and have been using the laptop for most of my work.
My office needed to be thoroughly straightened out before I could work in it again, and I suppose Sophie was wondering what I was up to, tearing it apart and making such a mess. Like I told Randy, "Don't worry. It has to get worse before it gets better." He would look in my office from time to time and would then mutter "It was an earth-shattering ka-boom."
I'm happy to say I cleared out all of the newspaper files and put them in a big box and now, finally, have gotten the office in shape again so I can do my own work. (I took the files to the newspaper office Wednesday afternoon. Yippee! Woo-hoo!)
Sophie, surprisingly enough, likes to come and sit by the computer in my office sometimes to get pets on the head. The little gray kitty cat who almost died when she was a kitten doesn't *like* getting petted, so I don't understand why she sits by my elbow and waits for pets. If I do pet her, then she gets this look on her face as if to say, "Oh, that hurts. It hurts. It hurts so much." But still, she wants a few pets. Then she usually makes her way to the kitty food table for some dry kitty food.
Sophie is the grumpiest, meanest, nastiest cat I've ever known. I tell her frequently that I don't know why she is so grumpy and thinks everyone is out to get her. All anyone has ever done to her is try to save her life when she was a kitten. I had to poke her with a needle to give her subcutaneous fluid when she was a kitten, and I don't think she's ever forgotten it.
More fun
But even though Pixie won't have much fun while I'm painting the bathroom, I have a surprise for her. There's one more quilt in the washer, soaking. I will finish washing it today, and then I will dry it in the dryer.
She will get to have even more fun later on when I start vacuuming behind things in the living room and when I vacuum the bookshelf. She might even have a chance to get vacuumed herself. If I vacuum something close to the floor with the attachment, then Pixie often comes and wants me to run the attachment over her. You'd think it would pull her hair, but she doesn't seem to mind.
All I can say is -- it's a good thing I've got so much four-footed much help around here. Otherwise I would never get anything done. . .
LeAnn R. Ralph
Tuesday, January 01, 2008, 18:40
Guinevere
Our beloved Guinevere died this morning at 10:30 a.m. The infection was just too much for her. Randy and I were both with her as she took her last breath. She was able to lift her head one more time to look at me. And then she was gone.
Randy fixed up a wooden box for her. He engraved her name on the cover. We wrapped her in one of Randy's tee-shirts and an old flannel shirt of mine. We put a tape measurer in the box with her, a sprig of spider plant, one of my old work boots and this note:
-------------------------
Guinevere
Born May 15, 1991
Thompson Stable
Whitewater, Wisconsin
Died January 1, 2008
You were our bright, cheerful, wonderful Guinevere -- the official greeter of the household, polisher of boots, player with the tape measurer and the spider plant.
We love you. And we will miss you always until that day we find you at the Rainbow Bridge.
Love,
Your Mummy Always,
LeAnn
and
Your wonderful Randy, whom you always hugged before he left for work.
Randy
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I have cried a gallon of tears, because, you know, I'm selfish. I should be happy for Guinevere. She is at the Rainbow Bridge with her brother, Tiger Paw Thompson, and our little Nightshade and Juliet and all the others. She is happy and whole and running and playing and napping in the sunshine.
But dear God, I am going to miss her.
We put the box out beneath the lilacs. When spring comes and the ground thaws out, we will bury Guinevere next to her brother, Tiger Paw Thompson.
I am kind of shot right now. And I can't be. I've got the house to clean and the bathroom to paint before we have Christmas here on Saturday.
LeAnn R. Ralph