A Canine from Across the Pond

Today I got a message from the dog Rosie, who currently resides in Switzerland with Evan's Parents. So today is a guest post, of sorts, from Rosie:

Harriet, hi.

Hork up any good hairballs lately?

Things are quiet here.  I can't walk much, but my digestive track is working ok and it's been a while since I've had to rush a warm gushy cream-hued heave out onto one of the better Turkish carpets.  I'm Turkish, so where should I heave?  No recent butt-geysers either.  Guy-with-Funny-Whine-Voice seems to like not having to use that little spray container with the chemical smell (offensive when offal would do nicely) and all those bunches of white paper to wipe it all up.  In obvious gratitude (he is well-trained) he now gives me more scraps when he's taking the chicken off the bones of a roaster.  I am grateful.

The other day I caught a sniff of my arch, the Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, and launched myself down the stone-like stairs at him.  He is the only male dog who must die and I don't know why.  That is just how it is and I will not be swayed from this universal imperative.  Anyway, his scent seared my nostrils and I was lost in the passion of the moment.  My hind quarter problem got the better of me when I hit the bottom of the stairs and I could only lie there barking and snarling.  Still, neither he nor his owner (Yellow-headed Nordic Biped by breed) have been back on my turf.  It's not that I don't like breed dogs.  That black dude I first came up with, back in the day, he was well bred.  And, oh, did I like his scent.

Female-Who-Does-All-I-Need is much absent of late during the day and very tired in the evenings.  She comes home smelling of many complex compounds I do not know (what dumps does she roam when I am not there to guide her?) and I am afraid she knows more pain than I. Her spirits smell intact, however, and she has maintained focus on the priority of caring for me, so all is well and many moments are sweet.

The weather has turned with short days and cold rain and the Magic of the Warm Tiled Floor has once again appeared (I must make an offering).  This allows me to lie spread out on the floor soaking up the warmth.

Woof for now,

Rosie

Feline Summer

We are in the midst of what is referred to as an "Indian Summer," my furry brothers and sisters. I'm not really sure why it's called that. It has something to do with snow melting and American Indian raiding parties attacking white people. Although it's really beyond me why anyone would hunt or raid in a party. As we superior beings have demonstrated, hunting alone is clearly better. How could you possibly sneak up and pounce on anything if there is whole group of you?

Anyway, what the phrase actually refers to is a period of summer-like weather during the Autumn. The past few days have been very lovely and warm, with high temperatures in the upper 80s! But there are still plenty of fallen leaves blowing around for me to stare at longingly through the window.

I think the warm weather is bringing other unwanted visitors to the house. I have come to the realization that I am not the only cat in the neighborhood. I mean, I thought this may be the case when I heard my humans talking about other cats, but this year several of these "others" have come up to the back door of my house. They stand on the deck and look in the window at me. There is one black and white cat named tuxedo who comes by occasionally. There is one calico, who's name I don't know, who has been stopping by. I try to scream insults at them, but they don't seem to hear them. I don't think it's doing much for my reputation around the neighborhood.

Speaking of my reputation, I think Evan and Sudha's human friends don't like me very much. So I've been slowly trying to work on that. It has now been at least six times in a row where visitors have come to my house and I have refrained from hissing at them. Now letting them pet me, that's a whole different story. There are only a few people who I trust enough to pet me. Strangely, each of them has fed me at some point or another. I wonder if there's any pattern to this?

I have been spending more nights on the bed with my humans lately. Now that it's not brutally hot all the time, it's  nice to hog a good chunk of the bed with my tiny body. I think they still like it though, as long as I don't swipe at their feet.

Until next time my furry brothers and sisters!