Critter Sitter's Blog

Friday, February 19, 2016

Exercise and Exorcise

I've got a couple of excuses for not blogging daily recently - first, our elliptical trainer arrived three days earlier than expected, and I've spent the past three mornings with a "too caring" and frightened house- and pet sitter, who just might drive me to drink. When we ordered the elliptical, it said "some assembly required" and, once the payment was accepted, the company said we'd receive it today, Friday, via FedEx. It arrived Tuesday morning, while I was walking Rosie and Tess, and, luckily, the FedEx man delivered the 90-pound box to the door and inside.
Upon opening the box, we found a wide variety of pieces packaged in styrofoam, bags and various types of cardboard cushioning. There were 93 numbered parts, and most of them came in sets of two, four, six, or eight. There were 213 pieces that I had to put together - thank the Gods that the manufacturing company included the 11 pieces of equipment needed to put the pieces together - so, I guess, really, there were 224 pieces in the box. I have to admit that it took me about 7 hours to get the thing put together. Two pieces were numbered separately, but were already connected, and that took a while to figure out; then pieces were shipped with bolts and washers in place, but they had to be removed and then fitted back to join other parts together. The easiest thing was connecting the computer parts and confirming they were working correctly. The thing that both Beatrice and I sweated over, for over an hour, was getting a single counter-clockwise bolt to sit flatly or precisely through two connected tubes and then screw into a large washer and finishing nut. That took the longest of anything, and I broke three nails into the quick when the blasted bolt slipped several times.
But, I got the elliptical trainer completely put together, following the instructions, with no extra parts, yesterday morning. I thought that since I walk 5 to 15 miles daily, using the elliptical would be an easy thing to do. Nope. With the tension set at the lowest number, and using the moving hand grips, I'm lucky to get 5 minutes done on the machine. So, right now, I'm doing my usual walking and putting in 5 minutes on the elliptical twice a day - once when I get up, and then while watching Jeopardy! at 6 p.m. Beatrice's job requires her being on her feet for 4 to 8 hours each day, with a lot of walking. She, too, is happy just to get 5 minutes twice a day on the machine. Of course, we plan on lengthening our times on the machine, and, eventually, tightening the tension bars - but right now, we're happy that we had the money to get the machine and that we have the drive to use it.
Of course it didn't help that I made a nice supper tonight - lemon-pepper baked boneless skinless chicken breast, four-cheese pasta, and glazed carrots. There were no left-overs, I'm ashamed to admit. And I plan on making another lemon pound cake tomorrow.....
Tomorrow I have three houses to care for - walking the spaniels, walking Tess, and feeding, watering and penning (for the night) Chocolate and Blackberry, who are bunnies. Tess and the bunnies are no problem. Actually, the spaniels are no problem, either. I have personal difficulty with the house- and pet-sitter of the spaniels. There are three King Charles Cavalier Spaniels in the house. A deaf female, who is oldest, and named Honey Bear; she's white with copper patches. Henry, who has a heart condition, is a gorgeous golden brown. Watney, the black boy with rust markings, is allergic to a lot of foods and the majority of things found outside - including grass. The dogs walk wearing (what I call) extended figure-8 harnesses. Henry and Honey Bear are walked together with a joining couplet. Watney, who pulls, is walked singly.
I met the owners, the dogs, and the house-sitter in early January. The house-sitter was cold, and sat by the fireplace talking only to the husband; I sat and talked with the wife. I was told that Henry was on medication for a heart condition, but that he was fine. Honey Bear is deaf, but she is fine otherwise. Watney will urinate on everything in the house, if he is not closely watched. The house-sitter and I exchanged telephone numbers and e-mail addresses, and we went our merry ways. I was told that I was being hired to help walk the dogs, as the house-sitter had recently had back and knee surgery. I have to admit that the woman completely amazed me. Other than in the cinema, on television, or in the comics, I had never heard a person bleat in real life. This poor lady is afraid of everything - we arrived at a multi-use crosswalk, with huge signs on either side of the road stating that all vehicles must stop for those people using the crosswalk, be they pedestrians, bicyclists, runners, dog-walkers, school children, who ever - a car was going to turn onto the street which we needed to cross. The car was 300 yards away. The woman would not cross the street until the car passed us by, and no vehicles were in sight at all. When I crossed the street before her - she bleated like a little lamb. It was the most amazing sound I've heard in quite a while. While walking, she informed me that we couldn't walk on the sidewalk on 19th Street, because the street was "too busy" and "the dogs would be killed." The sidewalk on 19th Street is four feet wide, has a grass easement on one side, has a cement curb on the other; the curb is next to a four-foot wide bike lane, then there are the traffic lanes, and another bike lane on the far side of the road. I kept Watney from consuming anything while we were walking, keeping him directly in the middle of the sidewalk, the first morning. Yesterday she decided I needed a much shorter leash, so I "could keep better control of him," and I took it.
Wednesday, the first walking day with the spaniels, we walked a little less than a mile and took more than 75 minutes. Yesterday I was also told that I had walked both the dogs and her "too far." That Henry had had heart problems Wednesday afternoon because I had over-tired him in the morning. I asked what had happened, and she informed me that Henry took several naps during the afternoon, when he was normally jumping about. I asked how that showed heart problems, and she just got all flustered. Yesterday and today, and through Tuesday, I will allow her to choose our walking route. I say I have problems with her.... she doesn't wear a watch and asks me what the time is every few minutes; she forgets things inside the house before we leave, and the dogs and I end up standing for 5 to 10 minutes while she locks and unlocks the door and goes in and out; after all that, she doesn't bring poop bags to pick up after the dogs, and then asks if I have any, and then acts completely surprised and amazed that I do have them in my pocket. Today, her telephone rang while we were walking the dogs on the middle-school track. Let me correct that. I was standing, with Watney, in the middle of the school's track, while she let Henry and Honey Bear root around and chew on things in the grassy area. When the phone rang, she jumped, pulled it out of her pocket, looked at it, and said to me "Ii don't know who it is that's calling. I'll just ignore it." As soon as she put it back in her pocket, it rang again, and we played the whole scene over again. When it rang the third time, she said, "Oh, dear. I don't know who it is, or the number. But it might be important. Maybe I'd better answer it..." I really didn't care. We were not moving and I was trying to concentrate on Watney and give him attention while the other two dogs were playing and digging in the grass. She answered the phone on the fourth call, and just stood there repeating, "Hello? Hello? Hello?" then looked at me and said, "Nobody's there." That was rather obvious....
And I have another four mornings of her inane conversation to survive. I'll need an exorcism come Tuesday night!

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Various Photos

Venus, a different kind of cat

Red squirrel

Old cypress knee in freezing surf

Siamese and German Shepherd

Clearing 3 feet of snow off the roof in Ouray, Colorado

Beach wrack on Sanibel Island, Florida

Odds and Ends

We're half-way through February in a new year, Thoroughbred foals are being born all over the country, horse racing enthusiasts are starting to talk about the Kentucky Derby and the Triple Crown in the United States, and the British Triple Crown in the United Kingdom. I am looking forward to Saturday, the 20th, when Ziconic will make his racing debut. Unlike his elder brother, Cozmic One, Ziconic seems to realize that racing, and going under the wire first, is the name of the game in his current life. Cozmic One, the oldest son of Zenyatta (by Bernardini), has raced twice but not with his Mom's need to win. In his first race, he finished last in a field of six; in his second race, he was seventh of nine contenders. Cozmic One doesn't seem to be able to focus on his job. Ziconic, the younger brother, by Tapit, seems to enjoy racing much more. I'm looking forward to his race on Saturday. Zenyatta, herself, is due some time in March with a second foal by War Front. This foal is eagerly awaited, as her last foal (also by War Front) died from injuries in a paddock accident. I hope her progeny can continue her winning ways.
One of my four granddaughters, a pre-teen, has just won the National Cheerleading Team title with her squad. She is certainly making her parents and grandparents proud. I only wish my husband could be here to express his encouragement to her and the other participants.
I can start collecting my retirement pay from working at Shands Teaching Hospital at the University of Florida in a few months. They have given me the choice of a lump-sum payment, or a monthly stipend for the rest of my life. The lump-sum payment is enticing, but I'd lose 30% of it due to federal taxes, and then there are state taxes, too. I'm pretty sure I'll choose the monthly stipend over the lump-sum.
I had to laugh this morning - I have on my calendar that, beginning tomorrow, I walk the DD dogs every morning for at least an hour. Another woman is house-sitting, but she is recovering from a back and hip injury, so I'm to walk two of the dogs while she walks one. I sent an e-mail to both the dog owners and to the house-sitter earlier today, asking for confirmation that the trip was still going to be taken, and stating the dates. I also asked the house-sitter at what time she wished to walk the dogs each morning. The house-sitter called me back, almost immediately, and said she'd visited the people and critters (3 dogs, 1 cat) yesterday, and that I had the dates wrong. The family was returning on the 25th, not the 23rd... I read her my three letters from the owner, which designated the dates each time - she looked her original contact notes and found she'd made a mistake - I was correct. Then she asked if I could meet her to walk the dogs at 7 each morning, in order to avoid the middle school students. I told her that I could, but that I would have to arrive later on the weekend days. She asked why, and I told her the first buses that ran by my house on the weekend came by at 7:30 - there was an earlier one, but it heads east, while the dogs' home is west of me. She was completely taken aback by the fact that I don't have a car. She wanted to know how I got around, and I told her, by bus or by foot. She was also amazed that I don't own a smart phone....
I guess I live to the beat of a different drummer in more ways than one.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

Island Views

Chincoteague Calling

I wish I could convey the yearning I feel each time I think of the Eastern Shore of Virginia. The Teaguers used to say that a person "had Chincoteague sand in their shoes" if they kept returning to the island and ended up moving there. I wasn't born on the island, but my Mother was, and her family ancestors have lived there since the mid-1600s. Chincoteague was always my place to escape - and still is. I'm sitting at my desk, gazing westward out my window and seeing the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, the foothills and Flatirons of Boulder. I see beauty in them, and their rugged graciousness, but I don't feel the compelling (almost tidal) pull that I feel when thinking about, or looking at photos of, Chincoteague and Assateague Islands. Island friends and family say that I have Chincoteague sand in my heart and soul. I guess I do.
Boulder, Colorado is a wonderful place. I love my clients as an extended family, and I love all the critters I care for as if they were/are mine. While in Boulder, and it's surrounds, I have come into contact with wildlife that I haven't experienced "up close and personal" before - but that also happened when my husband and I lived in Crows, Virginia. I had my first experiences with groundhogs there. Each place I have lived has allowed me insights to the natural world - walking into the back yard and finding a mountain lion crouched over a freshly killed deer, watching groundhogs raid the vegetable garden, seeing bobcats and bears mark the trees in their territories. I learn from each of these experiences. I look up information on whatever weird questions pop into my mind regarding an animals' behavior.
Mom and Dad told me to never stop questioning. I don't think I have. One of my biggest questions is, why do I have this compulsion to return to Chincoteague and Assateague? Yes, my maternal family has lived there for over 350 years. They were watermen and farmers. Do I get all this yearning for the islands as an ancestral need or memory? I love to hear the skree sound of a hunting hawk or eagle, but my heart bubbles with joy when I hear the cacophony of a flock of sea gulls squabbling over fish offal, or emptied clam and oyster shells. All I know is that I want to smell the odors of the sea, of the salt marsh and hear the cries of sea-faring birds and hear the surf on the shore. I can be happy in a forest, I can be happy in the mountains, I can be happy in a museum or reading history, I can be happy exploring another country and their culture - but I am only truly joyful on two islands off the coast of Virginia, in the Atlantic Ocean. There is my home.

Friday, February 12, 2016

Random Thoughts

While I was blase regarding the Broncos win in Super Bowl 50, the following morning, I could not get Queen's song, "We Are the Champions," out of my mind. And I would have loved to have been at the Broncos' World Champions parade in Denver this past Tuesday - but I don't like crowds anymore - and it was estimated that over one million people were along the parade route and at the Civic Center Park to celebrate the win. Just looking at the huge amounts of humanity shown by the television news helicopter there was enough to convince me not to go.
The Super Bowl advertisements were a disappointing lot this year.... I did like Helen Mirren's Budweiser commercial; I loved the Audi R8 ad; and I liked Christopher Walken's sock puppet. I had hoped to see another fantastic Clydesdale commercial from Anheiser Busch, but was greatly disappointed there - a few seconds close-up of the horses mouthing their driving bits did not pass my love test. Most of the ads this year were not humorous and some were just plain stupid. At least that good defensive game was worth watching.
I'm still having very vivid dreams, thanks to my anti-depression medication. Yesterday morning I awoke totally convinced that I was living in my grandparents' house on Peterson Street on Chincoteague Island. I stretched in bed, and then bounced up, ready to go out and ride my bike to the beach. I was very disconcerted to look out my bedroom window and see the outlines of the Rocky Mountains. I felt cheated, also. Having awakened in an excellent mood, and being ready to go out and enjoy the sea air, the smell of morning marsh mud, and a delectable view - I was hit by the realization that a Chinook wind was blowing down from the mountains and that the island was 2,000 miles to the east.
This morning I dreamed that I was in a huge house - part sales emporium, part haunted mansion - and I was trying to find all of the pets that I'd ever had in my life... Collecting the hamsters, the bunnies, the chickens, the horses and the dogs was easy. The cats kept running off to explore other movements of other creatures that were hidden in distant rooms. It seemed like an effort in futility just before I woke up. So, does the gathering of my pets mean that I'm too clingy? Does it mean, as one psychiatrist said, that I'm too attached to objects? Am I too attached to animals and not to humans? I don't know and I don't care. It's just good to "see" all my critters happy and healthy...