Sunday, September 30, 2007
Ouch!
9-30-07 This morning at the rescue ranch, Tony informed me that Abigail Van Buren, a pretty 1 yr. old red mutt and Randy Travis, a 6 yr. old mutt jumped out of their pens and got themselves porcupined. Quills were all over their faces and the porcupine was nowhere to be seen. Abigail, who is harder to catch than bin Ladin finally got caught along with Randy and after finishing feeding the dogs and cleaning their pens John took them to Kerrville to have our vets remove the quills. Tony and I will pick them up tomorrow after we register Tony for his photography class.
Flour Power!
Around 5:30 in the morning, on September 28, 2007, I was awakened with a loud bang! I sat up in bed, the room was dark, and Tony said, “Sorry about that, I dropped the shop vac. Go on back to sleep.”
“What? What are you doing?” I asked, trying to wake up. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m putting the shop vac back into the closet. Abbie got into the flour last night and I just cleaned it up,” Tony explained. “I made the coffee and am going to town to drink some coffee with my friends. I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you.”
After Tony had left, I crawled out of the bed, and headed to the kitchen to see what damage Abbie had done, and to have a cup of coffee to help wake me up.
Well, there was no need for caffeine that morning, because when I flipped on the kitchen light—I flipped out! My trailer was literally covered in flour! Abbie, our nutty, rescued, seven-year old, black Lab, had taken the recently purchased two pound sack of all purpose flour from the countertop and flung it everywhere! She must have really enjoyed herself because it looked like an avalanche of falling snow had passed through the kitchen and the “great room” of our single wide trailer! The countertops, stove, sink, chairs, breakfast bar, plants, stereo, books, television, bookcase and even the cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling were covered in the white powder. I didn’t know if I should scream or call the ski patrol!
Not wanting to have a meltdown, I took a deep breath, counted to thirty, because ten didn’t cut it, and then I poured myself a cup of coffee while Lucky, our rescued eleven year old, three-legged cat made screaming sounds, as he angrily tried to scratch off a drift of flour that had blanketed his food dish.
Wondering what all Tony had cleaned up earlier, I dragged the shop vac back out of the closet, plugged it in and then turned it on. In less than an hour, the scene of the crime was nearly all cleaned up—except for the wooden floors. For some reason the blobs of flour on the floor wouldn’t budge—it was like it was stuck to the floor and then I realized why.
Mixing flour with water equals glue as in paper mache— Tony must have used the mop!
Right about that time, Tony returned from Medina wearing a big smile on his face. “The trailer looks great! I’m sorry that I didn’t have time to vacuum everything. I ran out of time,” he said, proudly. “I vacuumed all that I could, and then I mopped the floors for you.”
Following his, unbeknownst to him, confession, I thanked him for his good deeds. When he went outside to feed the dogs and clean their pens, I got down on all fours and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed the flour encrusted floor. After scrubbing up most of the flour, I was satisfied with my work, and knew that within time, maybe a year or more, my trailer would be a “flour free zone” once again.
That evening, Tony and I enjoyed watching our dogs lick and claw at the flour blobs still stuck to the floor.
“What? What are you doing?” I asked, trying to wake up. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m putting the shop vac back into the closet. Abbie got into the flour last night and I just cleaned it up,” Tony explained. “I made the coffee and am going to town to drink some coffee with my friends. I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you.”
After Tony had left, I crawled out of the bed, and headed to the kitchen to see what damage Abbie had done, and to have a cup of coffee to help wake me up.
Well, there was no need for caffeine that morning, because when I flipped on the kitchen light—I flipped out! My trailer was literally covered in flour! Abbie, our nutty, rescued, seven-year old, black Lab, had taken the recently purchased two pound sack of all purpose flour from the countertop and flung it everywhere! She must have really enjoyed herself because it looked like an avalanche of falling snow had passed through the kitchen and the “great room” of our single wide trailer! The countertops, stove, sink, chairs, breakfast bar, plants, stereo, books, television, bookcase and even the cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling were covered in the white powder. I didn’t know if I should scream or call the ski patrol!
Not wanting to have a meltdown, I took a deep breath, counted to thirty, because ten didn’t cut it, and then I poured myself a cup of coffee while Lucky, our rescued eleven year old, three-legged cat made screaming sounds, as he angrily tried to scratch off a drift of flour that had blanketed his food dish.
Wondering what all Tony had cleaned up earlier, I dragged the shop vac back out of the closet, plugged it in and then turned it on. In less than an hour, the scene of the crime was nearly all cleaned up—except for the wooden floors. For some reason the blobs of flour on the floor wouldn’t budge—it was like it was stuck to the floor and then I realized why.
Mixing flour with water equals glue as in paper mache— Tony must have used the mop!
Right about that time, Tony returned from Medina wearing a big smile on his face. “The trailer looks great! I’m sorry that I didn’t have time to vacuum everything. I ran out of time,” he said, proudly. “I vacuumed all that I could, and then I mopped the floors for you.”
Following his, unbeknownst to him, confession, I thanked him for his good deeds. When he went outside to feed the dogs and clean their pens, I got down on all fours and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed the flour encrusted floor. After scrubbing up most of the flour, I was satisfied with my work, and knew that within time, maybe a year or more, my trailer would be a “flour free zone” once again.
That evening, Tony and I enjoyed watching our dogs lick and claw at the flour blobs still stuck to the floor.
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