Romps and Roombas
12/24/09 17:09
December 24, 2009 -- a few days after I and my three big dogs moved 30 miles south
I Can Smile Now... Be Very Afraid Of a Day Like This!
Polar opposite to the peaceful day before, starting with the realization that I needed to change the locks. Made scrambled eggs with toast. Barely had the food hit a plate than we had a dog fight. Pinta Bean did not want her breakfast and Willy-Chu started eating it before I could retrieve the bowl. They smashed an aloe vera plant in the den, toppled the DSL modem, had rounds in the kitchen, wrestled into the living room. No serious injuries. Timeout in the yard for Willy and in a bedroom for Beanie.
I launched the den’s brand new Roomba, which cleaned up the area nicely before it got stuck under the little modem/router table. Too many wires around defeat those clever wheels. Breakfast was quite cold by then. Before I could eat anything Oso arose and rapidly pooped on the floor before I could get him outside. In dealing with the pugilists I had forgotten to urge the old fellow out the back door for a second time.
Found a locksmith a dozen miles north to take care of seven locks, and while waiting for him discovered that the younger dogs had pried a board loose in the “dog run” along the south side of the house. This would be the one place where Wheelchair Does Not Go Where Wheelchair Never Went Before because of a high step up and across an irrigation pump! So I decided to place Willy-chu into his brand new backyard pen, which had been constructed and then reinforced two days later after Willy squirmed out. Thus when the locksmith had doors open, the canine cutup would be prevented from making a mad dash down the road.
The man arrived in the yard as I was backing down the hallway. Concentration impaired, the back wheels of my monster power chair ripped a bedroom door off its hinges, swinging it into the hallway, blocking me. A wrestling match ensued. When at last I got to the front door to let the young man in he spotted the protruding door, gave me an odd look, and trotted down the hall to move it out of the way for me. No words! What a guy! Ten minutes into Joseph’s visit Willy-chu danced jauntily through the back door with a few tender spots around his eyes. So much for the second round of enhanced dog pen security. This time the determined character had peeled the chain link up from the bottom of the brand new gate.
A friend showed up with a few groceries, bless him. I handed him a hammer and asked him to bang in the nails on the loose boards. He came back after a long while, reported that he had banged in a lot of loose nails along the line of pickets, and that the dogs were loosening up the cinderblocks below the wood... Help me, Lord. The friend departed with dark mutterings about the need to “get rid of that dog.” Which reminded me of how the contractor's disgusted crew mumbled, while hammering in huge metal spikes to anchor the chain link two days after they built, then reinforced, the pen, that “Willy is a bonehead about escaping.” At the time of those comments two big fellows were sledging in concrete spikes on one end of the pen while Willy’s big nose and paws pushed out the other end... It took me a while to discover how Houdini had escaped today.
Sometimes it's really hard to miss a message, but I managed. How did I get Willy-chu in the first place? Oh, from the animal shelter. He'd been found joyously running loose in the streets. A kind hearted woman had taken him in, but nothing could restrain his urge to roam. After he knocked her down one day she'd had it, and off to the shelter the young fellow went. Sleek and shiny, hiding his determination behind the melting gaze of those brown eyes of his.
So I put Willy back into the pen to watch him from a distance -- how angelic he was! I decided to get another anchor and cable to put him on inside the pen, so I could leave the place. Couldn’t leave him inside -- the house would be trashed, gnawed, chewed, spit out and up. Yeah, maybe he required more exercise than I could give him. Ya think?
Later decided to run the bedroom/hallway Roomba -- which cleaned nicely till it got stuck under the bed, had to be retrieved, then proclaimed its brushes needed cleaning. Gathered up the tools for that job, and promptly managed to drop a tiny yellow plastic “nut” from the end of the brush into the half-full trash bin... Spent a hateful 15 minutes sorting by hand through the soil and many broken pieces of aloe vera along with coffee grounds, a yucky avocado, papaya and orange peels, eggshells and various wrappers. Horrid! Only found the nut after sifting repeatedly through the crumbles in the bottom of the cardboard box into which I had slowly emptied the wastebasket’s contents.
Helpful Household Hint from Emily (forget Heloise): Never take apart Roomba brushes directly above the trash.
And be Very Very Glad when a day like this has ended!
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