(series of contractions when you're surprised and don't know what in God's
name is going on. Often used by a nOOb. -- from the Urban Dictionary)
For the past few months she's been on my case about digging in her flowers. Digging up the yard, she calls it. "What's the matter with you?!" she asks me. Over and over, leading me to a hole, pointing and commanding, "Mikey! Don't dig!"
"Hey, I get it," I try to tell her. "Besides, it's not me. It's those chickens across the road."
But, she doesn't understand. Is it my fault I only speak Dog? I tried a variety of facial expressions, but somehow they always come out as Guilt or Shame. I think she was getting desperate, because last week she poured red pepper flakes in all the holes. "That should do it," I heard her say. Then she dragged me over and practically rubbed my nose in it. Wow, That's Some, Hot, Stuff.
The chickens and one rooster always come over here early in the morning while she's still inside, asleep. They run around the yard clucking, scratching and digging, while the rooster stands nearby, preening and crowing. You'd think the noise would wake her up and she could see for herself. But, by the time she is up, having coffee and inspecting the yard, those chickens are long gone, back where they came from and I'm taking the heat yet again.
The other day, I tried direct action. I left one of those chickens in a pile of feathers. The others took off, flying and squawking. I figured they wouldn't be back soon, if ever. Her? She threw a fit. "Mikey, how could you? She went on and on about "That poor chicken!" and then blamed me, again, for the holes in the yard. If she only knew. By the way -- chicken tastes just like chicken.
For some reason, yesterday she was up early, practically before the sun came out, having her coffee, and like clock-work here came those chickens and the rooster. Scratch, scratch. Dig, dig. "Hey! Get out of my flowers!" she yelled. The chickens looked up at her, then at me, and went back to digging. She grabbed a broom and ran after them. "Go girl," I thought. The chickens flew across the road and the rooster followed right behind,
"Mikey, those chickens have been digging up my flowers," she says to me. "That's what I've been trying to tell you," I try to tell her. We look at each other, and she hands me a bone.
"Wow! Sparky, you really stink!" says Mikey.
"Huh?"
"Like a skunk, or something."
"Wha?"
Then She tells me to stop picking on "little Sparky."
She's got a lot of nerve. O.K., so I brought that iguana carcass
back to the house, again. I know, fourth time in two weeks. But,
come on -- think of it like doggie beef jerky. How was I supposed
to know Sparky would roll around in it for 20 minutes. It's for eating
for Pete's sake.
"Hey! Sparky! Don't play with your food!"
Mikey
Santa Olaya, PR
He made a New Year's resolution last night. Said he would try to be more optimistic,
and keep his cup half full – with Barrilito** on ice.
MIKEY'S NEW YEAR: 12:02 AM, 01/01/15, Casa Mulero, Valle Mulero, barrio Santa Olaya, Bayamon, PR.
Auld
Lang Syne* Lyrics by Robert Burns (1788)
|
ENGLISH: We two have run about the hillsides And pulled the daisies fine, But we have wandered many a weary foot For days of long ago. We two have paddled in the stream From noon til dinner time, But seas between us broad have roared Since days of long ago. Here is a hand, my trusty friend, And give us a hand of yours, And we will take a goodwill draught (of rum) For days of long ago! And surely you will pay for my glass, And surely I will pay for yours! And we'll take those cups of Barrilito yet For the days of long ago! |
SPANISH: Nosotros dos hemos quedado sobre las laderas y apretó el margaritas bien, pero hemos vagado muchos pies cansados Para los tiempos viejo. Los dos hemos remado en la corriente Desde el mediodía hasta la hora de cenar, Pero mares entre nosotros amplio hemos rugió Desde los tiempos viejo. Aquí está una parte, mi fiel amigo, y nos dan una mano de la suya, y vamos a tener un proyecto de fondo de comercio (de ron) Para los tiempos viejo! Y seguro que pagará por mi vaso, y he aquí yo pagará por la tuya! Y vamos a tomar esas tazas de Barrilito aún para los tiempos viejo! |
*
In India and Bangladesh,
the melody was the direct inspiration for the popular Bengali song
"Purano shei diner kotha" (Memories of the Good Old Days)
composed by Nobel laureate Rabindranath
Tagore
and is part of Rabindra
Sangeet (Rabindra's
Songs), a collection of 2,230 songs and lyrical poems.
–
Wikipedia.
** Barrilito rum -- produced and bottled in Bayamon, PR
– Ministry of Rum
By RICK GLADSTONE
DECEMBER 11, 2014
Pope Francis has given hope to gays, unmarried couples and advocates of the Big Bang theory. Now, he has endeared himself to dog lovers, animal-rights activists and vegans.
Trying to console a distraught little boy whose dog had died, Francis told him in a recent public appearance on St. Peter’s Square that “paradise is open to all of God’s creatures.” While it is unclear whether the pope’s remarks helped soothe the child, they were welcomed by groups like the Humane Society and People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, who saw them as a repudiation of conservative Catholic theology that says animals cannot go to heaven because they have no souls.
“My inbox got flooded,” said Christine Gutleben, senior director of faith outreach at the Humane Society, the largest animal protection group in the United States. “Almost immediately, everybody was talking about it.”
Laura Hobgood-Oster, professor of religion and environmental studies at Southwestern University in Georgetown, Tex., and an expert on the history of dog-human interaction, said she believed that there would be a backlash from religious conservatives, but that it would take time.
“The Catholic Church has never been clear on this question; it’s all over the place, because it begs so many other questions,” she said. “Where do mosquitoes go, for God’s sake?”
"Meanwhile, I'm just trying to work my way up the ladder," sez Mikey.
Guinness World Records announced that the world’s smallest dog, at least when it comes to height, lives in Puerto Rico.
The brown Chihuahua named Miracle Milly is shorter than a soup can, standing at 3.8 inches (9.65 centimeters). She is nearly 2 years old and known for repeatedly sticking out her tiny tongue.
Guinness also has a second category for world’s smallest dog when measured by length. That title is held by Heaven Sent Brandy, a Chihuahua in Largo, Florida, that measures 6 inches (15.24 centimeters) long. Guinness officials made the announcement Thursday.
For full article, see: Worlds-smallest-dog-is-in-Puerto-Rico
"Now there's an idea I could sink my teeth into," says Mikey.
MIKEY
Casa Mulero
Mulero Valley
Santa Olaya, PR
I've been trying to get him to explain to me what Symbia is and where it's located, what the Symbianese Electronic Army is, and why they'd be interested in my humble blog. After all, although I'm a libertarian hedonist, I hardly represent any sort of the type "reporting the news and influencing debate" -- so what do they want with me anyhow?
I'm likely more inclined to be bringing you news that's fit to chew, or line the bottom of my new doghouse, provided of course that that S.E.A. group doesn't decide to come back and camp out on my door step, again.
Well, stay tuned, and I'll do my best to try to bring you the latest updates, at least in the way I see it here in the remote jungles of rural Mulero Valley.
Until next time ...
MIKEY
Casa Mulero
Mulero Valley
Santa Olaya, PR
photo caption: Mikey (me) and him near the precipice. Santa Olaya -- April 14, 2013. Photo by Ozzie Forbes.
Guy walks into a bar with his dog and says he'll bet anyone $100 that his dog talks. The bartender says, "O.K. You're on..."
The guy asks his dog, "What's on top of this building?
The dog replies, "Ruff."
"No way," says the bartender, "I'm not falling for that one."
"Well," says the guy, "how about double or nothing? I'll ask him a different question."
"Uh, O.K.," says the bartender.
"Who's the greatest baseball player of all time?"
The dog looks puzzled for a moment, then says, "Ruff!"
They guy and his dog find themselves sprawled on the sidewalk in front of the bar where the bartender has unceremoniously dumped them.
"Was it Dimaggio?" asks the dog.
"Shut up," says the guy, "You got 200 bucks?"
MIKEY
Casa Mulero
Mulero Valley
Santa Olaya, PR