Go Into the Light! Go Into the Light!

Finally - finally - finally.  Sunshine and warm temperatures.  This morning it was 50 degrees - the warmest it has been in the morning in months.  And...what's this?  The forecast is for mid-70's tomorrow, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday!  OK, so it's supposed to rain, too.  Who cares??  It will be wonderful to be wet and not freezing!!!  And next week starting on Monday - mid 70's all week!!!  Woo Hoo!!!

We Floridians can now stop bitching and moaning and whining and hibernating.  We can stop digging in our closets and storage units for gloves and thick socks and heavy jackets that we used to need only a couple of times a year.  We can turn off our heat pumps and quit listening to their asthmatic wheezing as they start up and shut down.  We can open our windows...we...can..grunt...o*p*e*n...bang!...our windows. 

The lawn guy was mowing my yard today when I arrived home from work.  I laughed out loud for joy!  It's been three months since I've seen a lawn service truck on our street.

My neighbor spotted our armadillo the other night.  Another sign it's warming up!  Can the snake-in-a-bucket be far behind?  And...be still, my heart....the tree frogs should start singing the next time it rains.  And mating in the driveway puddles.  And sticking to my backdoor.  YES!  And, Harley, the lizards should be sunning themselves soon, buddy!

Harley and I can go to the beach without dressing like we're hiking in Alaska.  I can dust off my sandals and put my socks away!  I can sit outside at FA Cafe!

Spring!  Spring!  I may dance naked in my backyard.  I may not.  Spring!  Spring!

10 Positive Effects of this Freakin' Cold Weather and Rain

1.  I had fun shopping for rain boots with my granddaughter.  I bought her bright yellow boots with a picture of a monkey on them.  I purchased pink ones (monkeyless) for myself.  Of course, we had to borrow scissors from the cashier to cut off the tags and strings, so we could both put on our boots (YOU TOO, GRENAH!) right there in front of God and everybody at Target.  Then, out in the freezing cold again, Kinsey spies a nice puddle and jumps in.  Yes, our feet stay dry.  Can't say that for my pants.
2.  Another cold Saturday is a good excuse to wear my Christmas snowflake earrings.  Oh, no.  I packed away all my Christmas stuff already.  Of course I did.  It's February in Florida.  Why would I keep out snowflake earrings?  duh!
3.  The local vegetation is getting watered.  Well, what's left of it.  So much has been killed off by the freezing cold temperatures that NE Florida is going to look like Death Valley this summer.
4.  Snowbirds are here and business is good.  But, even our snowbirds are getting cranky.  After all, they travel all the way here from Michigan and Ohio and Canada to get away from bad weather.   Saying a bright "Good morning!" in the library or Publix parking lot to someone with out of state plates can get you run over.
5.  Isn't it wonderful to spread joy and laughter?  That's what happened today when I asked various salespeople if they had any gloves left.  They laughed and laughed.  So glad I could brighten their day.
5.  The local wildlife which enjoys terrorizing me has not been spotted in a while - no tree frogs, no armadillos, no snakes.  No, they are all safe and warm in their burrows having lots of sex so they can have millions of babies when spring does arrive.

There are no more positive effects.  It's either cold and wet...or cold and sunny.  It sucks.
49 out of 50 states had snow yesterday.   Stupid Hawaii.

THE OMEN

Something caught my eye as I eased up my driveway.  The afternoon was bright and sunny, but with the long shadows of approaching winter.  I turned my head and peered through my windshield and what I saw caused me to slam on the brakes.  A large bird - I think it was mostly brown both on its body and its wings, and I could only see it from the neck down and from below - swooped over my car and then rose over the back fence and the house behind.  A snake dangled from its beak!  (At this point I'm still fairly sure it was its beak and not its talons, but I was in awe and my memory is imperfect.)

The snake was colorless in the strong sunlight.  It was about one and a half times as long as the bird and I believe it was still writhing in protest.  Of course, it could have been swinging but I think it was moving.  The bird flapped its wings and soared over my neighbor's house, then descended out of my sight.  I wondered at the time if it was going to land in my neighbor's front yard and finish off the snake.  I sat in my car for several moments just letting the feelings wash over me.  Amazement.  Wonder.  Creepiness (afterall, it was a SNAKE).  The awe that nature inspires. 

My part in the small drama was over.  I started my car and pulled into my parking spot.  As I walked to my backdoor I kept turning around and looking for another glimpse of the bird and its prey.  I wondered what kind of bird it was.  What kind of bird hunts snakes?  I opened the storm door, unlocked and opened the back door.  The *FLB stuck his nose out in greeting and I invited him to come out and relieve himself.  I watched him as I thought about the bird.  Was it an osprey?  An eagle?  Some kind of hawk?  Harley decided to run off as I stood there.

Twenty minutes later I caught him five buildings east of mine.  Unlike a large dog who will galumph around a neighborhood in the joy of being FREE FREE FREE to run, the FLB is like a nosy neighbor who takes the opportunity to check up on everyone.  He trots up to all the doors and sniffs with great gusto.  He snuffles the various pet scents and he checks out other wilder scents:  armadillos, possums, whatever floats his dastardly little boat.

I didn't call for him.  I knew it was a waste of time and, besides, I was embarrassed.  I knew better than to let him out of the house without a leash.  He didn't even have his halter with his ID tag on it and I was just a tiny bit afraid I would lose him for good.  That would be my punishment for being careless.  I spotted him bouncing up the sidewalk of a pale yellow triplex and kept my eye on him as I approached.  When I was even with him I called out his name in a voice like you would use when you run into an old friend.

He looked up from his snuffling and actually looked happy to see me.  He took a few steps in my direction and stopped.

"Harley, come!"  I said in a more serious tone.

At that point he decided to give in, but he wouldn't do it without a small win on his side.  He cowered.  He crawled to me on his belly looking like the most beaten, pathetic, abused animal you have ever seen.  I tried not to look around to see if anyone was watching; that would make me look even guiltier.  I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and looped the leash around him in a slip knot.  As soon as the FLB realized he was caught and was not going to be kicked and beaten (at least in public), he jumped up and headed for home, pulling on the leash, wagging his tail, and holding his head high.

When we got home I filled his water bowl and he drank all of it.  Running away is thirsty work.  Then he laid down to rest.  I will never never never let him out again without his leash.  (Famous last words.)  I should have known when I saw the bird and the snake that something bad was going to happen.

I looked up birds of prey last night, and  I've decided it must have been some kind of hawk.  The osprey is primarily a hunter of fish and, though it could have been a juvenile eagle, odds are it was one of the seven species of hawk that either live here or migrate here in the winter.

Postscript:  I have a new palm tree in my living room that I purchased on clearance at Home Depot last week for only $7.00.  I needed to water it this morning, so I retrieved my cheap plastic watering "can" from the back patio where I leave it for my granddaughter Kinsey to use to water Grenah's outdoor plants.  I filled it and when I tipped it to pour onto the palm, the water gurgled and only trickled out.  What?  I guessed that some kind of outside gunk had gotten into the spout.  I carried the plastic can back to the kitchen sink.  I fished a bamboo skewer out of my kitchen supplies and was just sticking it into the spout when something caught my eye.

A tree frog looked up at me from the watery depths of the watering can!!!

My blood ran cold, my bowels turned to water, and I nearly fainted.

I grabbed the watering can and carried it carefully to the back door.  The frog swam frantically from side to side while keeping at least one of its bulging eyes on me.  I fumbled with the door knob.  Oh crap, it was locked!  Was the frog getting ready to jump?  Keeping one bulging eye on the tree frog, I flipped the lock, pulled the door open, pushed the storm door open, set the watering can down on the patio, and backed away.  Then I ran back inside and slammed and locked the back door.

The palm tree will have to wait.

*FLB=Freakin' Little Bastard

HAVE I BROUGHT THIS ON MYSELF?

I really really was not going to post about this again.  I don't want this to be the dog & critters blog, but I've started to wonder:  have I brought this on myself?  There is this school of thought - New Age, whatever - that what you envision is what you will receive.  So if you think about a fabulous new career you will eventually obtain that fabulous new career.  And the reverse is true; if you think only negative thoughts then your life becomes full of negativity.

So...can blogging about critters bring MORE critters?  You tell me.

Last night I was surfing the 'Net and saw this headline:  WOMAN:  DEAD FROG IN GREENS.  So who could resist that, right?  The story is about a woman in East Texas who purchased a bag of Glory Mustard Greens (and I have purchased Glory Collard Greens & Turnip Greens & even Kale) who put her greens in a pot and noticed "a pair of eyes staring out at me".   Jiminy Cricket!   Is nothing sacred?  Greens are actually GOOD for you and now I can't even buy those anymore!  This is beyond gross...and ....he looks like a tree frog, doesn't he?

So I started getting a small case of heebie-jeebies and decided that was enough.  I walked to the back door - which is a storm door and the screen was rolled up to let our delicious autumn breeze in - and just before I called Harley for his goodnight walk - I saw him.  A little tree frog on the glass of my storm door.  And he was very alive - all pulsing and throbbing and oozing.  I decided Harley could hold it until morning.

This morning I take Harley for his morning walk - without incident.  I get back home and I open the dishwasher to pull out a glass and what runs on the inside of the dishwasher door?

That's right:  a Palmetto bug.  The first gxd-damn Palmetto bug I have seen in my home since I moved here 6.5 years ago.  GD...son-of-a-bitch...shxt!  Now I am pissed off!  This is beyond gross and I will not put up with this!  He has crawled (scuse me if I make many typos - I am flinching and twitching and running my hands thru my hair like a nutcase as I type) on top of a large bowl.  My trusty lizard/frog-killer Harley is standing right by my side.  I c.a.r.e.f.u.l.l.y lift the bowl out of the dishwasher.  The disgusting filthy animal stays.  So does the bug.  I tap the bowl on the floor in front of my trusty lizard/frog-killing machine and the bug lands right at Harley's feet.  The bug sits there and Harley looks at me like, "What"

I yell, "Get him, Harley, get the bug!"  This startles the bug who starts skittering on the floor - the motion FINALLY catches the *FLB's attention and he's starts after him....and....

The gd s.o.b effing bug goes under the refrigerator.  Damn, Harley!  I could have stomped him but I thought you'd be faster.  I didn't say this out loud to Harley but I sure did think it.  I moved Harley out of the kitchen and grabbed my can of RAID and sprayed a killing perimeter all around the refrigerator and then under it, too.  Stupid effing bug might get out but he wouldn't live to enjoy it.

I then placed a step-stool next to the refrigerator because the step-stool bugs Harley and it would keep him away from the killing field all day.  Then I went to work.

I was busy working on my computer when I noticed a bug on my monitor's screen.  It was a stinkbug.  Very common down here and it's actually considered kind of a "good" bug because it eats other bugs.  Every so often a couple stinkbugs will get in the office; the office sits in the courtyard of the inn and is surrounded by vegetation.  Usually I let the stinkbug crawl on top of a piece of paper and carry him outside and let him off onto a leaf.  So PETA of me.  I let this little guy crawl around on my screen, because after seeing effing GODZILLA in my dishwasher, this little guy was like a pet. 

Later I was in the lobby talking to Kelly and she said, "Hold still." and picked something off my shirt.  "What is it, a bug?" I joked.  She opened her hand.  It was the stinkbug.  She crushed him before I could stop her and tossed him in the trash.  Poor stinkbug.

That afternoon Mike stuck his head in the screen door (the weather here is really really nice right now) and looked up and said, "Good grief, what's that on your ceiling?"  I looked up.  I kid you not - there were between 5 and 10 stinkbugs walking all over the ceiling and one was right over my chair.  I didn't have a broom or anything long like that so I threw a dog toy (don't ask) at the ceiling until I knocked him down. 

I am phobic about insecticide (except in the case of Palmetto bugs) but I'm about to get over that.  If I have stinkbugs tomorrow, the gloves are off.

And no, that is not the end of the story.  The last straw is coming.

I'm relaxing in my big fat chair reading a book tonight when I hear Harley running like he's chasing something.  I get up and walk around to the dining table.  It's that Palmetto Bug!  (And don't give me any "How do you know it's the same bug crap....I know it's the same one because if it's not the same one I can't live here anymore!)  So Harley puts his paw on it  - and I realize he's been playing with it.

"Kill it, Harley!" Harley lifts his paw.  The bug runs under the living room sofa.  Next to my big fat chair. 

So I had to write about it because I'm not going near the living room until I find its dead body.  Meanwhile, Harley is whining and crying because he can't find his new toy.  I even moved the sofa out from the wall so Harley could search all around the sofa.  Every now and then I think he spots it because there's the sound of running feet.  Then he starts whining and crying again. 

Damn.  Just damn.

*FLB=Freaking Little Bastard

Wild Kingdom

I was NOT going to post about this.  Not again.  But then...2 events in less than 12 hours?

So last night I take the *FLB out for his evening peepee.  I didn't even slip on my shoes, just strolled outside in my socks.  Didn't even turn on the outside light; my neighbor's outside light was on and light shined through my storm door glass.  I have to admit I felt a little nervous stepping in some shadowy places.  All the recent heebie-jeebie blogging has kept me in a rather agitated state - twitching now and then, feeling "things" in my hair, brushing my shoulder (what was that?).  I decided to quit being a baby and just take the damn dog out and not think about critters.

After his initial marking, the *FLB insisted on walking past the edge of light and to the line of grass along our fence.   I walked gingerly - looking carefully where I stepped and feeling foolish about it.  He dragged me all the way there, then stood on the pavement and stuck his nose in the grass.  That was going to accomplish nothing.  I "encouraged" him to step into the grass but he ignored me.  I became impatient and pulled him back to the patio telling him out loud, "No way, mister, am I standing in the dark so you can sniff the grass while standing on the pavement."  We walked back to my patio, I opened my back door, hustled Harley inside, and something skittered across my laundry room floor.

"Lizard!" I squealed.

Harley was skittering across the floor after the lizard-thing and I couldn't see around him to see what he was chasing.  I wasn't too concerned; I've had lizards (those little gecko lizards) get in the house before.  Harley always hunts them down and catches them.  It's his own life insurance policy.  And it fits with the 11th Commandment:

THOU SHALT NOT COME INTO MY HOUSE IF THOU IS A BUG OR SMALL CRITTER.  THOU SHALT LIVE OUTSIDE WHERE THOU BELONGEST AND WILL BE LEFT ALONEST.  IN MY HOUSE THOU ART FAIR GAME AND WILL BE HUNTED AND KILLED.

 So I encouraged Harley, "Get the lizard!", but then I saw it.  It was a small brown tree frog.

SCARY MUSIC PLAYS....

 I pulled Harley away; thank goodness he was still leashed.  The frog looked unharmed and I really wanted him back outside.  I don't like how they jump and I don't like their little sucker feet.  Tree frogs don't hop like toads  Toads hop and move a few inches here or there.  Tree frogs JUMP 4 or 5 FEET in the air.

One time a tree frog jumped through our front door - well not THROUGH the front door - but my brother opened the door and the tree frog jumped through the open front door - and the entire family (except for my father who was watching TV in his recliner - erupted in shouting and screaming as the tree frog jumped down the hallway and around the dining room.  The tree frog jumped from the floor onto my dad's HEAD and then hopped onto the living room wall with 4 kids and a beagle chasing him.  We actually chased that frog back out the front door before my dad even realized what happened.

So...back to last night....I stepped over the frog and tried to shoo him out the back door but he jumped up on the door, then jumped back into the room.  I screeched like a banshee - I thought the little sucker was going to jump on ME.  He jumped onto the wall behind the door.  He was hanging on the extra-long leash that hangs behind the door and I made one more attempt to get him out by removing the leash with him on it.  He jumped again.

That must be when I peed my pants.

I was fed up and decided he had broken the 11th commandment.  I unleashed Harley and said, "There he is, you can have him."  And that *FLB looked all over the wall and couldn't see him!  I had to practically take his face and point it at the frog!  What's up with that?  He can see a cat 300 yards down the street!

So the *FLB jumped up and grabbed the frog off the wall, but then he dropped it on the floor and it started hopping all around the room again.  I screamed some more, but this time I added some moon-dancing and ultra-studio-54-twitch moves, too.  Harley grabbed the frog again and finally took him into the kitchen to "play" with him.

Now don't get all "the poor frog" on me.  I did the best I could.  If his little sucker-feet had touched me I wouldn't be here blogging to you today.  I did feel bad because Harley played with him a LONG time.  A really LONG time.  I finally couldn't listen to him anymore and went to bed.  I even felt guilty.

This morning I looked for the ... remains...but Harley was guarding it.  I said a quick prayer that the little frog was dead and hadn't suffered too much.  No, I didn't really, but it sounds nice to say.   I knew I'd find him in the afternoon and give him a proper burial - wrapped in a thick wad of paper towels and scrunched into the trash can.

I took Harley for his morning walk. 

We were returning from our walk and came around the corner of our building when Harley smelled or spotted something.  He was acting aggressive so my first guess was a cat.  It's DARK when we take our walk and I carry a flashlight.  I haven't forgotten that a green-and-brown snake lives under my septic-bucket.  And I don't want to step on anything living or dead.  So I pointed my flashlight where Harley was straining to go.  I saw something....gray.......an armadillo.  eewww.  He standing over by the septic-bucket-snake-house.  Harley went ballistic - barking and pulling and twisting on the end of his leash.  The armadillo looked at us for a couple seconds (another big eewww) then hurried up the septic tank hill and into the brush. 

Kind of explains all the little holes in the yard and the lack of slugs this summer.  Maybe I'll just put a fence around the property and sell tickets. 

*FLB = freakin' little bastard