May 24, 2009

Cooking up some fun...

So, when I'm not totally overwhelmed and drowning in a sea of school- I actually like to do things... Like cook.. and take pictures (obviously).. and read... oh reading...... I miss you so.....
Where was I? Yes.. Cooking.
School is almost out for summer (cue music "School's out for summer!!"), and we have a long weekend and a guest. So here we go cooking up some fun.

For Jacob's family, here is some long awaited proof that Ashley does indeed eat olives even after apparently being scared for life by Bessie Ann eating black olives off of her finger tips.. It's a long story and one I don't know well enough to divulge..
So on to the proof. Voila!


Yep folks. Ain't she adorable? And her little dog too... Mwa ha ha ha ha!

(Wait a minute.. Maybe I'm internalizing students calling me the "English witch"... hmmm.....)

So today's post is going to be one of those that are primarily words words words...

Because I was too overwhelmed in the heat of our potential prairie dog attack to grab my camera.

Let me explain...
Yesterday I went on a run in some of my new marble clothes with my cool ipod and my adorable little lunging piece of fur I call "baby". I was oblivious in my own little world, putting one foot in front of the other, focusing on breathing over the pain in my knee, and singing along to such great hits as "Super Trooper", and "Chiquitita"... When Daisy began lunging off to the side.
Being the good dog mother I am (?) I paused everything and there, in the middle of suburbia stood/crouched, a frozen, staring little prarie dog- plastered to the side of a garage like Sylvester Stallone in the middle of a Rambo shot.
A million things ran through my mind.
Like how do they make Stallone look so tall when he's obviously so short? And who came up with the name Rambo anyway?
I jest.
I was thinking, do prairie dogs get rabies? Is it possible this little fellow burrowed up from around here? (we are essentially surrounded by fields). The softie in me wanted to help, but the teacher and part of me with a brain said, "Take your little white fur ball and run on big mama".
So I did.
Two hours later, me passed out in my room taking a cat nap, Jacob comes running in and saying that there's a prairie dog at our door. I said, "What does he want?"
Just kidding again...
Apparently, this little guy had skirted and "ramboe'd" his way two blocks down, around our house, and into our open garage, to start scratching at our garage door.
Thoughts of Ol' Yeller came flooding through my mind.
We tried to call animal services with no answer. I googled PD and rabies and got that they often don't get it, but often do get "the rut", which, in my summary, is like your pet rodent going INSANE due to hormones and trying to bite your hand off for say... 5 months... Note to self: never own a PD. Check.
So even if there were no rabies, I actually quite like my hands the way they are. So we got our broken down kennel, wedged it in the wall behind frozen rambo, and scooted him in with a shovel.
We then drove around looking for the nearest prairie dog town and released the little nut. When we got the kennel out of the back of the pick up he was on his hind legs and raising his little quarter inch claws..
Can I say that for such a small beady eyed dude those are some massive claws?.... So there we were, on a lovely Saturday night, me and my main squeeze, perched over a broken kennel saying "1.2.3. RUN!!!"..
Luckily, we didn't have to run very far, the little guy was finally unfrozen and took a run for it.
So we saved a prairie dog..
and didn't even run over him as we left.

3 comments:

zarafa said...

never heard of "the rut," but they have been known to carry bubonic plague... not to cause total freak out or anything, that's just why they creep me out.

Brandon and April said...

making a 37 weeks pregnant lady laugh that hard should seriously be illegal. my ribs hurt.

Jennie said...

A-mazing! you do attract the animals, don't you? Add it to the list of mini ponies and stray dogs...I love it! :) What a sneaky little rodent!

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