Monkeyjack message

I sit alone at the bar ... waiting, ever waiting...

What does that mean?

This text message needs explaining.

For Fun Reading, try Consumer Reports

I recommend March '06, regarding the Oyster Awards

Conumer Reports online

Penalty for failure is death 2

Our master got angry with our last droid and had him disintegrated.

I tried to retrieve data stored on these discs in the hard drive. It refused. I had no choice but to punish it. Also, some data is better not shared.

Taxes 2006

I used Turbo Tax this year and they charged me more than they should have $60 instead of $40. It looks like Tax Cut will get my money next year. Sorry, guys. Rob me once and you're done.

art project

Art project 2.6.06

Sweet boy Charlie!

Cat Tales (series) ep. 1

Introduction:
Many of these stories are first hand accounts. There are duplicate stories from previous posts regarding Max and Cali, cats of Monkeyjack. In some households there are are then two pets, so the inclusion of others is inevitable, regardless of the mix of species.

The family cat Stubby. Stubby, a runt and outcast of his litter was a farmcat. The family there was trying to get rid of the kittens in favor of expunging them. I remember seeing this little cat walk along the gravel and being given the word, "that's him". His tail was shorter than most cat due to some kitten injury. We got him home, and in this case I got to experience what cats tend to be like in a car -- electron comes to mind ... always moving, chaning everything's energy level when it touches them.

He was a small, but mighty cat. The dog, Princess, had a mortal enemy -- cats. Here, one enters the house and is entreated to stay. The first two days were great fun for the dog and cat. The cat ran around -- good exercise for a young cat. The dog got exercise chasing the cat. There were no reported injuries.
That did't work. The dog kept eating the cat food, to starve him out. That didn't work. After seven days, the dog wandered into the kitchen, looked at everyone, now with the understanding that the cat was going to stay, and peed deliberately on the floor.

Throughout the rest of his lttle life Stubby went on many adventures. The backyard was relatively free of any life, except for maybe ants. He killed birds, squirrels, rabbits, bunnies, moles, chipmunks, moths, butterflies, bees, wasps, nearly anything that moved. Spiders were slower moving and not much interest unless they were on the wall.

I remember many mornings letting him in or out that I found a "tubuluar" package on the cement. The prone position rodent was in full rigor, looking almost turd-like. This was a token, unspoiled, not ripped open, just killed and presented. There was a difference between that and a close (within visual range) hunted kill. Usually these were more like Predator kills, with their heads or limbs removed, disembowled and messy. Noticing some, there were clearly four types of kills:
peckish killings, with organs eaten
gaming killings, with several moral wounds
playful killings with grotesque pre and post mortem wounds and attacks
token killings with little damage to the body, presented so that humans would respect him

Also a treat were the scrapes and cuts and bloody wounds consistent with the tough-guy-on-the-block. My father thought we spent enough money on him to be a dependant for tax purposes.

He was super silly on catnip -- go figure and loved to climb. He didn't like to climb down.
My father once had a solution to his "tree" problem. He was in a neighobor's pine tree which wasn't ours and it wasn't good to climb. We begged him to help Stubby. He got out the hose. It was rational. Which did he hate more, climbing down or water. He hated water more and found a way down. The Bluejays, whose nest he inteded to raid were delighted with his leaving.

Sadly, I saw the most difficult thing with a cat -- slow demise. He developed feline leukemia (intestinal) and he was in pain for the last few months on his life. He died, crawling to my Mum ... dying in her lap. My father, usually saying nothing but sarcasm about the cat also wept. That was a rareity.

Before his passing was Princess' passing. She was going blind, but her one-time enemy, later friend walked beside her, making sure that she didn't bump into any walls. He was a seeing eye cat for her. It's funny that you apply compassion only to people, when no one was there to train him to walk her. He did that on his own.

-- T.B.C

Dog Tales (series) ep. iii a

Jake and Sid:

Before Charlie was born, Monkeyjack and Lori and these two silly companions. When they were out of town they would ask me to house and dog sit. I accepted. The problem was when they returned. The dogs were bizarre when they got home ... they came home late and had stopped at McDonald's. Jake was shaking and Sid was spinning around. What the -----?
eledteacher! What did you do?

I, uh ...., uh ....
What did you do?

What do you mean?
We got home and they went crazy! Did you give them something?
Maybe.
What? Do you feed them something.
(Finally, it clicked. I understood the conversation)
Yes. I got them, a ... um ... hamburger.
A hamburger?
um ... yeah... each a hamburger ------------ and fries

You got our dogs combo meals?
yes ...

(loud at this point) No wonder they were crazy! Jake was shaking like he was having a seizure. He was waiting for his burger. eledteacher, you are a bad, bad man!
Sorry.

To tell my side of the story now, I knew that they were, "tired" of the kibble fare. They like car rides and we went to ... a fast food place ... or two ... and got food there. Jake happily rested his head on my hand while I shifted gears. Well... how do kids react to having fast food, despite it being cheaper quality than burgers you would and could make -- they are ecstatic.

Sid also snatched a piece of fish from a tray when I got Fish of Stroh. I never knew dogs liked fish. I think she just figured I didn't have to bother serving her ... she'd just serve herself.

Dog Tales (series) ep. iv

Sid, officially named, Yensid, is a whitish German Shephard. She's wily and wooley and big and loud. According to Monkeyjack, she's convinced that the postal workers and squirrels are colaborators in a syndicate to bring about world ruin for dogs. To this effect she always barks at the postal workers, Fed Ex, UPS, DHL, etc. She has found dead squirrels that have been tossing toys and has killed a few. I think she offers no quarter to birds either. All animals are subject to termination, especially cats (right prey size perhaps?).
Anyway ... one early memeory of Sid the puppy was her nipping my nose. Sad for me because prior to this injury I had a septum puncture that opens up every now and then giving me nice, bloody noses. This was just such a case. It wasn't her fault, she was a puppy.
She started small enough to fit easily into a bathroom sink. Now, she's large enough to push others out of a kid's wading pool. With her tail usually erect and her watchful eyes -- she loves to play. Out of jealousy she destroys Charlie's toys. She doesn't like to share ... nor did Charlie. I think he's getting over that now.
Sid had an old-man playmate Jake, who insisted that he ran the roost, though he was much, much smaller. He was the same height for a few weeks, then she grew. Later, he would easily run under her. He taught her to distrust postal workers, how to chew on people, if necessary (she doesn't employ this, but just escapes) and how to "sample" drinks and food left at the right height.
Sid loves beer as much as the dog from Strange Brew. She's an accomplished beggar and, while distrusting of Charlie, she vultures around him while he's eating because Charlie drops some food and intentionally offers some to her. She loves doing walks and used drag Lori around while she was on roller blades. While I walk her, I feel like a sled being pulled along by her.
She hops up to the door, her face in the window to see who's at the door. The are around the window is ... um ... bare of paint. It is intimidating when you hear the barking and then the face at the window. It reminds me so much of Marmaduke comics.
I used to call her "Baby". I so often used this that Lori pointed out that if I didn't stop, she's think her name was "Baby". She still greets me in the silly way she always does ... happy circles running near me, but not quite to me ... many figure eights. Then I get to meet her. When Charlie was an infant, I had to greet Sid outside because of her grand greeting of me. So silly!

-- T.B.C.

Dog Tales (series) ep. iii

Maia, meaning mother, perhaps is mother of that which is silly. When over at MR's house, she jumped up on the sofa to sniff through my pockets. While I entered bearing beggin' strips, that I tossed onto the floor for her, she insisted that I must be hiding something better in my jacket. This was not the first time that she checked out my jacket.
On a seperate occasion, my jacket moved up and down, as though life were entering and leaving it. Upon closer insepction, Maia was rolling it and tossing it to gain access to pockets.

Her more typical trick is to "misplace" a toy under the sofa or table or in small space behind the chair. "Woof! I don't know where it could be. Woof! I can't quite reach it, though I put it there. Woof!"

Really, she's MR's dog -- he should write this.

Dave's house

I wasn't going to write it, but it's just too funny not to write it ... sorry I beat you to the punch on this one Dave.

When they were looking at the house, they found some ... peculiarities. One error was a sagging basement ceiling. While the excuse doesn't bear out reality (positioning of shower), it is nonetheless, memeorable as "No new taxes" and "What's the definition of is?" -- trapped in a hard place, lie!

Well, the ceiling is warped because one of the teen boys fell asleep in the shower and plugged up the drain with his butt.

A very comical lie. Sadly, it was the only given explanation as to the ceiling problem.

Thanks Dave!

Dog Tales (series) ep. 2

Titan, bold, hyper dog of the century. A good and well meaning dog who never thought of himself other than a dog. There was a neighbor dog, Eli a taller, longer Great Dane, I think, that liked to race Titan along the fence. There was no serious animosity between the two, merely typical rivalry and show-boating. On one occasion, they stood ready and aiming at each other.
Chicken was the game, or perhaps headbutting sheep is a better description. Either way, they agreed at a dog-perceived signal that the time was, now! They ran full-bore at each other and collision! They didn't hit each other, but rather a post, along the fence that spearated them anyway. Ouch! Dazed and confused for so long it's not true -- for them, it was. "Uh, we meant to do that."

Titan, so bold, even flying dustballs were his enemies and he would cry to you to make them. CDs were great, as they would shine a nice rainbow on the walls to chase. Any game had to do with chase!

There was hide and go seek. A group would walk along with him, then split. He would panic, then scramble to herd everyone back together again, whining the entire time from panic ... must get sheep together ... must get sheep together.

He would drop his toy for his two humans, but for nearly no one else. JF, my neice, his ... cousin? was the only exception. For her, he would jump, run, do whatever. She never needed to shout, merely say, platz and he would lie down. It was comical.

He favorite thing above all was river wading and swimming. Ah, creeks, rivers, streams, anything muddy and foul-smelling. He loved it and would swim for a day, if given the chance. His other dream, never accomplished was to chase the llamas next door. Oh ... they look so good to chase. Please? He chased deer and other critters, but ignored birds entirely. Bees, wasps, flies ... they were "good eatin'" Spiders, not the best critters for the humans there, neither of them liked them, were also interesting fare, when he could get them.
He was never able or intersted in catching the thumb-sized mice that were in the house during the winter.

He also didn't destroy a stupid little ragamuffin of a squeak toy dog that bit him. He was on the sidewalk walking when a speck of a dog bit his leg. The owner quickly fetched the dog announcing the dog's sheer stupidity in attacking Titan (meaning large / mighty anyway) who could have chomped it to death without thinking.

As far as fast food -- I think he preferred Burger King.

-- T.B.C.

Dog Tales (a series)

unorganized, but so are dogs -- sometimes.
the following stories are based in fact, but some details are sketchy, many are from first hand or second hand accounts.
-- please note initials represent real or pseudonyms to protect their identities from laughter at work

Thunder (short for Thunderheart) while wonderful around people, for he thinks he is one, doesn't like many other animals. Squirrels are great to chase, capturing is great! Dogs must always be assailed with torrents of angry barking.
The folks were visiting my sister's family in Denver. Typically, luggage is "late" really misplaced. At three a.m. loud pounding resounds on the front door. [loud pounding] (continues while Thunder snores, back against the door). TO gets up, not wanting the kids to wake and goes to the door. [pounding continues] TO has to push Thunder out of the way to open the door. [Slide ugh! Opens door to unhappy airport delivery guy and takes baggage]
This same dog scared the pants off many people not knowing him. He's a long, black Shepherd with a taste for ... human


food

To this effect, Thunder has conived people out of their food, so that he can eat it, never bothering to chew, then suffer gastro-intenstinal problems usually culminating in fire hose diarhea. "Fire hose" in two senses; visually spraying, then the need to spray the area after he goes.

Also what makes this dog special is patience. He has often trick-or-treated with a costume, been Barbie -- worn make up and had his nails painted.
He was also called, Sir Marks-a-lot, in that nearly any standing object had to smell like him through urinal or fecal means. He also wasn't to be outdone when the boys, while hiking in Colorado made use of "outdoor plumbing". He would hastily make sure it smelled like him too. He, probably like most dogs invariably wound up smelling like the family because of walking in a stream ('enough said there).

Also exceptional is his "bad tennet" status in kennels. Normally this would be attributed to those who trash their rental or those who, in some way warrant their eviction. He was evicted / denied access to a large number of kennels for the following reason:
"He wouldn't stop whining and crying just throughout his stay. I've never heard of eviction from crying. His belief that he's a person lends himself to believe that he should not have been there. His crate training also brought on teeth injuries, trying to eat through the cage.

I guess they should have just resigned themselves to believe in his perspective that he was a quadraped human.

To his credit, he has also been "too sore", "too tired" to eat. The kids have brought handfulls of water to him to lap up and handfulls of kibble for him to be hand-fed.

-- In this series, all stories are presumed to be continued