Tag Archives: pets

Etsy picks.

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Every once in a while I cruise Etsy because they have some wonderfully creative things. Some are useful….

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(Though a few decades late for me.)

Some are… not.

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Personally I don’t feel the need for a human dog bed…

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But if you do? Know that I am rolling my eyes at the thought of you sitting in that giant floor pillow… and so is your dog.

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This was kind of cute until I read what it was for.

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Dermatillomania is an obsessive skin picking disorder, and judging from the bestseller status of this product… it’s more common that I thought.

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This.

For when you really want to feel like you’re sitting on the throne.

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News you can’t use.

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News. It’s a subjective term these days, and that’s sad.

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I’m not going to comment on this one, because honestly… I just don’t want to.

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Well, if it can remove car battery corrosion …. stones shouldn’t be a problem.

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And we humans dutifully comply . Ookie Pookie must be kept happy… or there will be consequences.

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Of course she did. She’s 10.

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I don’t know. And I don’t care to find out… but gee, your mother must be so proud.

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This last news alert is from my town. And I don’t know about you, but I prefer it to vaginal squirting contests.

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Random photo dump.

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A cat and his mouse is a beautiful thing.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten hasn’t caught a live one in quite a while but he does enjoy sleeping with his toy version.

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On a recent trip to the orthopedist I began wondering if he has voodoo doctor credentials.

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Crystal bones are made for throwing.

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Note to self…

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Buy bigger bird bath.

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Even he has no explanation for those ugly things…

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Things I don’t need.

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My Facebook and Apple News algorithms are always coming up with ridiculous products they think I need to purchase.

I’m passing on all three of these.

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#1…. Swimsuit season is not approaching quickly in Maine, unless you count the Polar Bear plunge in February and I’ve never be crazy enough to do that.

#2…. My derrière is awake as it’s ever going to get. No caffeinated butt cream required. 

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No.

Just… no.

While I spoil Lord Dudley Mountcatten far more than my husband thinks I should, even I have limits.

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Do I want to carry around a 28 ounce gelatinous pouch of my own urine? I most assuredly do not.

Also, I spent my teenage years on an island in Maine where there were no public restrooms. I’m completely familiar with pissing in the woods if necessary.

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Hope springs eternal.

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These sparrows have it in for our poor cat and are seriously driving him crazy.

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All of a sudden there are flocks of them gathering on our back deck and Lord Dudley Mountcatten is positively beside himself with angst.

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He cackles, he cries, he paws at the window and howls to go outside.

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And then runs right to the bushes where they hide when I oblige.

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His Lordship is not a graceful feline and more often than not falls flat on his face.

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Unless he’s sticking it in the bush on purpose.

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He’s on a leash, but there’s not much walking going on.

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Those birds should be ashamed of themselves. Before long Dudley will be needing kitty Valium.

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News you can’t use.

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Because it’s more fun than the kind you can.

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I know staffing shortages around the country are bad, but… wow.

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This is good news, but it does make me wonder who studies these things… and how they got a worm to spit on command.

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Worm spittoons. Does Amazon sell those…?

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I’m going to pay $75 for an animal that eats dried poop in the park? No.

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I can’t find my own umbrella when it rains, now I’m supposed to remember my phone’s?

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Should we?

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This is a little disturbing.

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Makes me glad I never developed a taste for it.

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Let’s play.

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It won’t take much time.

I promise.

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This is an easy one for me. Calves liver with onions. My parents were fans, but I’ve been known to run screaming from the room at the mere sight of it. Basically any organ meat will elicit a similar reaction, but my mother cooked this on a regular basis so I had lots of practice avoiding it.

Liver tonight? Gee mom, I can’t. Softball practice.

Liver? Sorry mom, art club meeting.

Dessicated cow organs? I’d love to… but the circus is in town and they need a new elephant handler.

Any excuse would do. But she got wise after a while and decided to force me to eat it one night. Silly woman, thinking she could out stubborn 10 year old me.

She served dinner… I ate the potatoes and vegetables and left the liver untouched. She told me I would eat it. I told her I would not. She said I couldn’t get up from the table until it was gone. I said no problem and settled in for the night. If I wouldn’t eat it freshly cooked and hot did she really think I’d eat it cold and congealed?

The war of wills had begun, but after an hour and a half my father… ever the peacemaker…. let our notorious food stealing beagle in the back door and I ( accidentally, of course ) dropped my plate on the floor.

Bye bye liver.

My mother lost that battle and never tried to force me to eat it again. She did continue to serve it though.

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How about you? What meal haunted your childhood dinner table…

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The one in which Lord Dudley Mountcatten attempts to climb a tree….

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Dudley does well on his harness/leash and knows his limitations, which in actuality is 30 feet. His chest to my wrist. His Lordship chooses the direction and we walk, stroll, sit and occasionally sprint. What we don’t do is climb trees.

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Until the other day when he sat at the base of the Bradford pear watching a bird one minute….

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And jumped onto the bark the next. Problem is, his lordship does not have any tree climbing experience and literally just hung there.

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He scooched a little farther up, with me trying hard not to laugh …

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And finally made it up on a lower branch. Which is when he looked at me as if to say, what the Hell do I do now?

One aborted climb later..

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It was over before it really begun.

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I give him an A for effort, but a D for technique.

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