Don’t Fence Me In – Or Out

“But wait. How am I supposed to get over there? Usually I just go between the strands, but this fence is different.”dscn6756a

“What if I get hung up on that barbed wire?”

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“I can see where I want to be, but … your leg is in the way of me jumping.”dscn6759a

“You’re kidding me, right? Okay, I’ll wind up and jump.”

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“Was that high enough? But I’m still on the same side.”

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“Okay, I’m sitting down like you told me. Now what?”

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“Hoo-whee! Yowser!”

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“All RIGHT! Let’s find those birds.”

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*PS If anyone is interested in entering a low key writing contest, please see my post of Oct, 15, 2016, on https://annelisplace.wordpress.com/2016/10/15/writing-contest/

 

Sea Monster?

The slightest change of colour in foliage adds to the splendour of autumn. Here on the Similkameen River in southern British Columbia, the warmth of summer lingers as the leaves begin to change colour.dscn6480_edited-1

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The clear waters allow us to see sticks and stones but they won’t break our bones … or will they? Emma sees a stick that threatens to turn into a sea monster. Will it break her bones?

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Back legs ready for flight, she nevertheless lets her curiosity take over.

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“What?” she asks. “You’ve never been scared by a stick before? … and I’ve got what on my face?” There’s no eggs around here.

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The Dog Days of a Summer Heat

Emma is in heat, and I’m not referring to the weather.  I have to be on guard every moment of her life for the next three weeks, especially during week two.
I don’t let her have the run of the yard anymore (even though it’s fenced) unless I’m out there with her.
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I’m a hot dog!

Today I had an appointment in town so I put the dogs in their kennel, a big fenced play area with two doghouses in it. The dogs are safe inside the chainlink fence of the kennel. They won’t get run over while I’m away. Nothing can get at them and they have plenty of shade from the trees that grow beside the kennel.
When I came home, I let the dogs out into the yard. In just a few seconds, Emma had a visitor. Lucky, the little toy dog from across the street  came over to see if Emma wanted to “make love” even though he’d be shooting blanks (he’s been neutered). He’s a cute little dog with brown and white curly fur, a lot like a tiny teddy bear. He’s a barker and has a mind of his own.
I had a time getting Emma to leave him. Whatever he was promising her, he was very persuasive. I don’t know what she sees in him. He’s only about half her size. That’s why he’s able to get through the gate even though it’s closed.
I got Emma to come to me, and then Ruby came to offer assistance. She didn’t bark or growl. She knows Lucky. She came over and stood tall beside him and said, “You’d better go home now. Emma can’t play today. She has to go into the house and keep her legs together.”
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It’s a good thing I’m looking after Emma. She’s so naive!

As I’m writing this, Emma is lying on her side near me, with one ear sprawling away from her head on the floor. I’m sure she’s dreaming about Lucky and his attentions. Emma is probably mistaking his professions of love for a promise of marriage. Foolish girl. He’d just knock her up, if he could, and leave her to be a single mother of ten toy puppies. I can just see it now, ten curly-haired smaller-than-usual spaniels, brown, white, black and all the mixtures in between. They’d be high-strung like their mother and useless, but pretty, like their father.
No, I don’t think I could handle that!
I have to make sure that Lucky doesn’t get lucky.

Fruit to Nuts

In our case, the saying has to be reversed – from nuts to fruit.

We have a few fruit trees in the backyard, and this year the apple trees are loaded. Branches are hanging low to the ground, easy pickings for us and even easier for the dogs. You’d think I didn’t feed them.

In previous years, Ruby used to pick up the hazelnuts that fell. I could clean up under the nut trees, but every time the wind blew, the problem (in the shape of a springer spaniel) reappeared. She cracked the nuts with her teeth and ate the inside, sometimes with bits of shell still on them. I was constantly chasing her away from the nut trees and trying to get the nuts picked up before she got them. Not only was she swallowing sharp bits of shell, but she was cracking her teeth.

When we got Emma, our English field cocker spaniel, Ruby taught her all her bad habits. That’s when we decided to cut the nut trees down. We had two more big nut trees in the front yard (enough for us) so we thought this would solve the problem.

But now without the nut trees in the backyard, Ruby has been harvesting apples and teaching Emma to do the same. I figure an apple a day for two months, times two dogs, equals about 120 apples. Why do I even bother to water the trees? Sometimes, I’d rather turn the hose on the dogs.

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Sometimes you just need a man

In many households, mine included, barbecuing is the man’s job. But with the Captain away, what’s a girl to do? Although I’d had little practice with the barbecue, I thought I would grill some burgers for myself. I knew that if I made them too thin they might fall between the grate, so into the hamburger, I mixed some chopped onion, some finely cubed bits of bread, and an egg. I made nice fat patties, four of them, so I could reheat a couple tomorrow, and I put them on the grill with a bit of barbecue sauce on top.

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After a while I tried to turn them. That was a bit messy. The first one broke up. You can see that a lot of the burger components fell through the grate. I would have to bring the patties in and fry them in the pan after all. I brought the first broken one in and set it in the pan.

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Kind of a mess but at least I could finish cooking it. I decided that I might as well bring in the other three burgers and give up on the barbecue idea.

But when I tried to take the burgers off the grill, they broke up badly. I gathered up the barbecue sauce and the brush and the plate of burger meat – oh, and the portable phone I had out on the deck in case the Captain called. With all these things in my arms I tried to maneuver the sliding screen door open.

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A lot more of the burger meat fell on the floor than what you see here, but I slapped as much as I could back onto the plate.

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This gave new meaning to the term, “a dog’s breakfast.”

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My vest, full of barbecue sauce went straight into the washing machine, and while I was downstairs I let the dogs into the house. Darned if I was going to clean up that mess by myself. I let them help – and they did an excellent job. They left the onion pieces for the last, but they ended up eating those too. Very thorough, they were!

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