CafeChatNoir

Tonight, we broke the rules.  “We” being myself and Moxley.

In season, dogs aren’t allowed on the beach in Southern Shores.  (One neighborhood north, they are allowed year round.)  I understand why - in any given population, there is X% that don’t clean up after their critters.  In the offseason, in real numbers, that percentage is tolerable.  During the season, it’s not tolerable as far as this neighborhood is concerned.

Well, when we got back from dinner this evening and I took the pup out for his evening sojourn, we headed for the dune deck to just take a look at the surf in the near full moon.  Mox was having none of this “watching” stuff and headed down the steps to the beach.  I gave a wide sweep with the maglite to see if we had company.  Well, we were alone and I had all the necessary accouterments should cleanup be necessary, so off we went.

I know, I know - we shouldn’t have, especially since the local gendarmes here already have my name on file.  But Mox doesn’t know the difference between on and off season and when he’s here off season, he is perfectly behaved on the beach and tonight was no different.  We chased a bunch of ghost crabs and had a lovely walk under the moon and left nothing but doggie footprints.  (Which seem to be around every morning on the beach. so I’m fairly certain we’re not the only miscreants about.)

Have to say, he’s a pretty good tracker.  He’d get a scent of a nearby crab and would go nose down into the sand and well, if you didn’t know he was following the track of a crab, you’d think he was drunk for all the weaving and figure 8’s as he followed the scent until he caught up with the crab, which of course would immediately head for the water.  Undaunted, he’d just start looking for the next one.

He’s a pretty good beach dog for being bred for the wilds of Tibet.

When the wildlife comes up and poses for you.

I was down on the beach, on my stomach & propped up on my elbows reading a book and minding my own business when something went skittering under my chest.  I sit up and find myself face to face with the biggest, boldest sand/ghost crab I have ever seen.  And he was rather insulted that I had abruptly taken away his shade.  He spent some time on the towel, then under my chair, then back up around to my book again as if to say, “Whatcha reading?”

Couple more pics: (more…)

Best Cat Ever.  Couldn’t have asked for a better 15 years from my furry friend.

What do you do with a piglet who is afraid of mud? Why get her a set of wellies, courtesy of a Paddington Bear doll.

Seriously, click it - it is TOO ADORABLE!!

Absolutely adorable baby monkey at the London Zoo - with video.

And it’s about damn time…  The awesome folks at Burke Automotive were able to take care of things right away and in the time it took me to walk over to the shopping center, grab some lunch and walk back, I had a repaired tire.  $35.  Nice.

Had to pop over to the vet and pick up flea & tick stuff, and met the newest member of Dr. Alt’s family - an adorable beagle/basset/cocker mix puppy named “Jill”- she had been hit by a car and her leg was broken, someone brought her in and no owners could be located.  (How you could not miss this darling pup is beyond me.)  So, she now belongs to him.  Well, the little one couldn’t have landed in better hands for a forever home.  Her leg seems to have healed up quite well and she LOVES to make new friends.  (Much to Moxley’s dismay when I returned home and smelled like another dog.)

Hundreds of villagers have flocked to a remote Indian village to see a baby girl who was saved by stray dogs after she was abandoned in a mound of mud by her mother, officials said on Tuesday.

Once again, I’m more impressed with animals than people.

OK, he’s a dog, he pretty much loves everyone. But her REALLY loves me right now.

In the course of making some nachos for dinner, not only did some refried beans hit the floor, but some taco filling and cheese to boot.

He’s a happy little critter right now.

Trying to get some alone time… (SFW)

Now that I have my critters back.  They also got nice report cards for their stay at the kennel.

Mox pretty well destroyed his green froggie toy I sent along with him - gutted it nicely.

Target yowled the entire way home.  The lady that tended to him remembered Snoopy from this summer and asked about him - I felt so bad having to tell her that he had passed away.  She said that Target seemed a little sad at times.  (I’m glad I signed him up for extra cuddle time.)  He looks like he lost a bit of weight, so operation “fatten up the kitty” starts today.  I am sure he’ll be amenable to some extra treats and goodies with his food.  Since he normally free-feeds, trying to get him to eat on a schedule doesn’t always work.

But they’re home and they’re happy and I’m happy.

It’s 45 degrees with 20 mph winds - of COURSE the dog is outside and absolutely refuses to come in. I do not understand his “wild dog of the north” complex he gets when it’s windy outside, but he LOVES it. Makes us look like we’re abusing him and locking him out in this weather, but he knows he can come inside whenever he wants, and if I open the door and ask him if he wants in, he looks at me like I have lost my mind.

The wind is bad enough that it blew the back door open while little bro & I went off to run an errand, so upon returning it was time to play the “find the cat” game. Searched the house, outside, shook the treat bag, called and yelled and nothing - and then out of nowhere he just appeared in the upstairs hallway with this look on his face of “WTF is with all the yelling? I’m trying to nap here.” I still have no idea where he hides out upstairs when he’s not snoozing on the bed.

Yes, you read that right - because today, Moxley is certainly not MY dog. Little bugger has been driving me up the wall today.

I just now got him to come inside after being out for about six and a half hours. (Today’s high: 46 degrees.) Today’s trick was to come to the door, sit and look pathetic and then when I would go to let him in - RUN AWAY!!!!!!! WOOHOO!! Let me just tell you, that gets old after a bit.

In the morning he gets biscuits after he goes out. Since he didn’t want to come in, I just set the biscuits on the floor inside so he could get them when he finally came in. Well, the cat comes downstairs and is sitting too close to said biscuits - so, what does the little dingbat do? Barks at the cat - through the back door - but won’t come in because said cat is blocking his path. The cat that is about 10 pounds to his 30. Of course, the cat sees no need to move since the dog isn’t actually coming inside, and the dog won’t come inside because the cat won’t move.

I know the cat enjoyed that little episode.

The dog is already asking to go out again.

Little bro liked the turkey and had no arguments when I informed him that the leftovers were allllllllllllll his.

Other than the rolls being a touch *too* golden brown, everything was good.

Target, who normally doesn’t pay a bit of attention to any kind of human food, was rather perplexed. I lost count of how many times he walked into the kitchen, head high smelling the turkey, and then ate his food and looked at me as if to say, “Why doesn’t this taste like the rest of the kitchen smells??” At one point I had to put the roasting pan on “his” counter for a moment, and it’s a good thing it was only a moment, cause he was ready to take a header right into it. So, he got a tiny bit of turkey with his dinner and was a VERY happy cat.

Thank you for all the nice words about my little buddy Snoopy. One day he was fine, the next I’m hauling him to the emergency vet and it’s all over. Good cat to the end, when it came time to make the decision to let him go, he made the decision easy for me. I had a really nice dream about him last night, so I know that wherever it is that good cats go, he’s there and OK.

You were a really good cat, and I’m gonna miss the hell out of you. It was an awesome, fluffy 14 years.

Rare Chinese cat captured on film.

Leona Helmsley leaves $12 million to her dog.

Moxley does not seem to have a problem with this type of estate planning.

TiVo Alert: BBCAmerica will be running 6 episodes of Creature Comforts from 3:00 AM to 6:00 AM on Monday morning.

Careful with the topical sports cremes: Teen dies from too much use of it. They don’t specify exactly how much is “to excess” - but I’m guessing it would have to be a lot.

ESPN is doing all day horse racing coverage from the Belmont track - no mentions at all of any dippy blonde chicks.

And just some cuteness (courtesy Yahoo):

Mox was awesome at the party. My realtor throws it every year for his clients, and I should have expected that it would be catered - as I recall, his wife is an exceptionally practical woman and I am sure put her foot down on the first go-round on this and said, “You want a party for your clients, you get it catered.” :) One thing we did discover about Mox is that he has become well conditioned in certain situations, especially when it comes to food. Every time one of the servers came around with food, he would sit down the second he saw her, so no worries on him tripping someone for a mini country ham biscuit. He also is pretty much the only dog we’ve owned that has an actual sense of his size.

Today I’ll get to see if the legal system actually functions in the best interest of society and actual justice or if it’s just “if A, then B” check the box system. Should be interesting.

In a couple hours, my brother and I will be taking the hound to a birthday party. A dog birthday party. (Not quite as weird as it sounds, basically an excuse to have a summer cookout and get all the dogs together to play.)

The catch? He’s never done anything like this. He runs up and down the fence with the dogs next door, but I don’t know of any occasion where he’s gotten to really play with other dogs. (I haven’t gotten up the nerve to take him to the dog park.)

I’ve been telling him all day that he has to BE GOOD tonight. So, he’s spent the entire day being a bit of a brat, barking at the cats, barking at my brother, and generally not being a dog I want to claim as mine. There’s going to be some serious ball playing in the next hour to see if we can’t wear him out a bit before the festivities.

My cat Snoopy has always had a thing for boxes. When he was a tiny kitten, he could fit perfectly in the little shoebox that my Keds came in. However, he grew up into a big and super fluffy cat who couldn’t quite fit into those particular boxes anymore, but developed a penchant for the shirt/sweater boxes that are so prevalent at Christmas time…

After this past Christmas, he had no fewer than 3 boxes to choose from. However, cleanup must eventually happen and the 3 were culled to a single box. Which yes, is still sitting on the hearth of the fireplace, complete with red tissue paper. He still loves to cram himself into it - and tonight I noticed one of the pieces of tissue paper had managed to make its way across the room. So - given the choice between chucking out this piece of red tissue paper or carefully placing it back inside the sweater box in front of the fireplace, what to do?

Those with pets arleady know the answer. And Snoopy seems to be quite content with having the full complement of tissue paper back in his box this evening.

So, the dog is sitting out on the deck this morning, and I hear a voice from the yard say “Hi, doggie” - just the meter reader.

The dog? Jumps up! Looks at him! Runs inside and looks at me as if to say, “There is someone in my yard, make him go away!”

I feel so safe…