Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Rug Rats and Kitties just DON'T Mix
One of the huge irritations around here is when the grandkids come to visit. I call them Rug Rats and in general, Rug Rats and Kitties just don't mix. However, there is one RR that is especially terrifying. Her name is Isabella--Bella for short. The Kid is pure Hell on Wheels and possible/likely death to all animals smaller than her. She may appear All Sunshine here, but don't let the outfit fool you. Let me tell you, she has the look in her eye and any animal with a particle of sense can spot it--Cruella Deville in the flesh!!
Take last Easter...Becky had the brilliant idea to buy ducklings for all the grandkids. Never mind that I wanted to kill them and had to be locked out of the laundry room.....little did they know that the REAL AND PRESENT danger was Bella. To her it was killing them with kindness-
"Lemme hold da duckies, Lemme hold da duckies."
She was so beside herself when she saw that little yellow ball of fluff, her hands would start shaking trying to grab it around its scrawny little neck. If they left her alone in the laundry room with them, invariably you'd hear a very frantic high pitched quacking coming from there.....and usually they wanted to blame it on me. But sure enough, it was Bella with a strangle hold on one. (Have you ever seen bugged out duck eyes...not pretty.) Guards had to be posted at the duck box at all times if Bella was around. It nearly ruined our Easter.
One day Becky had enough of those pooping little quackers and had another brilliant idea....NOT. "Gee, Let's send them home with the grandkids" Yes, they were safe from me, but suddenly thrown into a whole new horrifying situation... Though I never heard of them again, I could only but wonder what their final demise looked like. I just couldn't understand why it wouldn't have been at least somewhat better for ME to end up with them in my tummy, rather than being tortured by those awful little grandkids...
And Speaking of feathered things, we have a permanent resident here at Full Circle Ranch House....his name is Pip, The Maniacal Singing Canary. (I know, I know Pippen and Pip--creative, huh?)
Becky has this idiotic idea that everyone should own a canary. The first time she heard one sing--so the story goes--she just HAD to have one and wondered why everyone didn't own one.
EXCUSE ME?? Did anyone ever tell her that besides Rug Rats...Boyfriend here and birds just don't mix?? That tweeter drives me to distraction--and I'm not the only one! Just ask Number Two Son, Jordan and Number Two Daughter, Anna what THEY think. Those two spoiled kids have been known to throw a blanket over that bird's cage during the day just to shut him up. He's so dumb he thinks it's night and won't sing. Mu Ha Ha Ha Ha Meooowww! (Works for me.)
Actually, another trick that stuns him to silence is when I've managed to fly through the air from the bureau right smack onto his cage--It's happened twice now, but that didn't go over so well. A spray bottle of vinegar water sits nearby just for such an occassion. I got sprayed like a bug til I was drenched and stinky. I think I licked fur for two hours--HAIRBALL time!! And speaking of which...gotta run... Achk, achk kkkuk