Thursday, December 21, 2017

The Naughty List

Dear Santa,
Good dogs don't steal snacks from the kitty litter pan.
He's a baaaaaaaaad dog...
a VERY bad dog!
Miss Kitty Perfect little JackRat...have you been slightly naughty these last eleven months?

I don't answer to that name, mommy of sucks!

Whoa...where did you learn to speak like that?

I listen to you all the time, mommy dearest.

Oh, so you choose not to obey me on purpose.


You're half 'n half...Jack Russell and Rat Terrier.

It's uncouth being called a rat, mommy dear.

Uncouth?  How did you come up with that word?  Did one of the cats look it up for you in the thesaurus?

In the whatus?

The  thesa...never what does my little terror on paws prefer to be called?

R. Russell!

Hmmm...R R.  You do remember your real name is Dustin, don't you?

Dustin Smustin...R. Russell is my real name from now on, mommy not so dear.

Okay, little stink pot, R R. it is.

R. Russell!

R R.!

R. Russell, R. Russel, R. Russell!

R R., R R., R R.!

:(  Are you sure we're related, mommy tough nut repeat-a-lot.

Of course, we're related.  I'm stubborn and my little doggy woggy, kiss kiss, hug hug is stubborn too.

:`(  Bluck, bluck, spit spit patooie!  Zoe says I have a big problem and I'm toast this Christmas.

Zoe...our cat Zoe?  She doesn't even like you.  Why are you listening to her.

She's smart.

Smart?  Who told you that?


Hmmmmmmmmm...  I'll have to think on this one a bit.

R. Russell!  




Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy...dinnertime!

Dinner's not for another two hours.  Let's talk about being toast at Christmas time.

Bow wow wow wow wow wow... :)  mommy being toast at Christmas time with strawberry jam on top...yeh yeh yeh!

What the hell!  We're going to talk about your chat with Zoe.  

What chat with Zoe?  She doesn't even like me, mommy dearest.


Has Santa been here yet, has he HAS HE HAS HE!

That's Christmas eve, my little bark-a-holic.  He only visits dogs who have been extra good.

:) I'm going to get gobs and gobs of stuff :)

Hmmm...have you been extra good, my ditsy little pooch?

I haven't bitten a single soul this past eleven months, and I only chew up shoes I can sneak outside when no one is looking.

What was that last part you said?

I said nothing, mommy dear.  You must be a little tired and hearing voices.

What about the five hundred fifty-two times you've barked at the window just this last month?

I'm sure it couldn't have been more than three hundred twenty-five times.  I'm just in watch dog mode protecting my mommy :)

What was that first part you said?

I said no first part, mommy love a lot.  Perhaps you could lie down and rest a bit.

I see you're up to your old terrier tricks again by being so boringly stubborn.  You know I have your number, little doggy-poo poo.  You gobble those tootsie roll snacks right out of the kitty litter pan every day :(

I'm just hungry, mommy sweetest, and saving you money buying less cans of dog food for me.  Cat yummy!

What was that, my little munchkin.  What did you say at the end, and don't tell me I'm imagining it all, little squirt!

Of course not, sweet mommy of mine.  Just my stomach grumbling cause it's hungry.


Has Santa been here yet, has he HAS HE HAS HE!  

Oh, good grief!  Pardon me while I go to my blank mind space with a glass of white wine and a package of salty peppered potato chips.  




Charlotte & Austin

Friday, December 1, 2017

The Arrival of December in Little Fourth Acre Gardens

It’s tough sometimes living our lives; therefore, this letter is simply about an endearing pleasure in the life that is mine to celebrate this holiday season.

No matter one’s beliefs in their journeys on this earth, it’s difficult to argue the existence of all layers of life as anything less than amazing.

The gentle pit pat of dry ash tree seeds letting go and showering the ground below have created an expanding network of dams along the pathway as they wash together with each passing storm. 

The crackling of leaves under the sweetspire bush signals the arrival of a pair of wrens intensely pursuing their quota of snacks for the day, while the dog growls softly as he races with nose to the ground following the scent of some mysterious creature that has passed through the night.

The pond is silent as the green frogs have burrowed deep into the mud for a long winter’s nap; and a few blustery days have rushed the baring of tree limbs so the ambers, oranges, reds and browns now mostly mingle as a mantle of many colors across the ground.

Under the branches of the old ash tree stands a young dogwood still clothed in its crimson leaves, creating a feeling of euphoria in the unveiled landscape.  It hangs out with a rowdy bunch of wild flowers, some still mingling around its feet in colors of silvers, rusts and greens.

The golden blooms of calendulas, the leafy green romaine, and the great white parsnips in the raised vegetable beds are still looking first class despite old man winter’s evenings of below freezing weather; and as the sun rests on the horizon, the sleepy turtlehead plants have taken on a vivid glow of chartreuse in the magic of the late day.

Nature has the ability of creating restfulness amid the turmoil, and beauty among the thorns; and while it accepts all as is, it is always constantly changing.  I close my eyes as darkness sets in, take a deep breath, and feel the coolness of the wind brushing across my face.  Life is good and I am content as the evening begins.  

Wishing you the joys of a thousand smiles this Christmas; and as you leave this old year behind, may you begin the next one anew.

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