They pace from one window to the next, sticking their eager little faces under the front-seat seat belts and the windows, just to get a better look out the front window. All the while, charging themselves with freakishly massive amounts of static electricity. Inevitably, they will decide they need some pets, and will ever so lovingly and kindly rest their sweet heads on our shoulders, reminding us that they are there, in the backseat. Unfortunately, every time they shock us with static electricity from their cold, wet noses to our dainty, exposed little human ears.
There is nothing in this world, not even J-E-R-K-Y, that Buster loves more than riding in the car, watching trucks go by.
He looks frightened here, but really he is just really, really into the passing traffic. If you look closely, you can see nose smudges on the glass from when he forgets there is glass even there and tries to jump out and follow to damn trucks. Stupid, adorable puppy.
***We were happily zipping our way up to the north-central-ish part of the Big Red Square State to visit A.'s family. Both his sisters were home with their kids, and it was a special treat to see those from Santa Fe.
His older sister and mom taught me how to make lefsa! I grew up eating this, but never knew how to make it myself. There is a debate between members of the family as to whether you eat this with butter and sugar or butter and brown sugar. I like the plain sugar the best, though we grew up eating it with butter and honey. When I mentioned that at the dinner table, conversation paused briefly. Apparently, that is considered a special form of culinary treason within this family.
***The Universe decided to hand me a couple of gems over the weekend to help me reconsider my recent longings for a kitty to join our family.
First, A.'s sister B. mentioned that her cat, Lilly, shits in a litter box in the car during the long trip from Santa Fe and how that was mildly unpleasant. Mildly unpleasant? I nearly died right there.
Then, Buster came up to me, all happy, wagging his tail and grinning he ass off. He and Belle LOVE it at Grandma's house. They get to run on 40+ acres without a care in the world. But that wasn't what had him so lit up. He had found himself a new treat.
As he was panting, I had never smelled breath so foul in my life. My brain started leak out of my left ear, my nose sealed shut, and my tummy started threatening to barf and barf and barf. I looked over at A. in horror; why did our dog smell so bad? Can the others smell this? Offensive didn't even begin to describe this dog's breath. What the hell was going on?
Turns out, Buster had eaten cat shit.
Um. Now, from reading some of your blogs and some conversations with Black Sheeped , I know this is not an altogether uncommon occurrence. But, my lord. The wretched stink! I am getting all kinds of gaggy and antsy just recalling that horrific, horrific, smell coming out of Buster's mouth. *GAG*
Also, Lilly scares the living hell out of Buster, and even has Belle keeping a distance from her. The hissing and spitting and viscous swatting every time one of my dogs comes near her give me pause. Also, that hissing, and especially that fucking crazyass spitting thing that she does just manifests the evilness that I fear lurks within all kitties. That is some scary shit right there.
Here is the evil kitty, only barely disguising her evilness:
But Phoebe, one of the other kitties? SO. SWEET. Needless to say, I am rethinking the kitty adoption.
***It was a full house. There were eight adults, three children (4 yrs, 18 months, and 11 months), four dogs, and three cats. BUSY. Lots of feet. It was very happy. It was relaxed. It was comfy. We celebrated an early Thanksgiving because everyone was home. A. smiled a lot. I am so glad we made the trip, so thankful for such wonderful people in my life who so openly welcome me into their own. It was one of those weekends were I fell even deeper in love with A. It was a good weekend.
A. with his nephew, M. Go, Avs!