La Cucaracha!

My advance apologies for the boring post:

cock·roach [kok-rohch]

noun

any of numerous orthopterous insects of the family Blattidae, characterized by a flattened body, rapid movements, and nocturnal habits and including several common household pests. 1624, folk etymology of Sp. cucaracha “chafer, beetle,” from cuca “kind of caterpillar.” Folk etymology is from caca “excrement.”

Anyone who has lived in Arizona can attest to the fact that these vile creatures are here to stay, and my apartment has been no exception.    I’ve seen a few in the kitchen, a couple of them in the bathroom and even one crawling up the wall near my bed.  The bug man is fogging my place today, so Winnie and I have to stay away for three hours.  We’ve imagealready been to the book store and lunch at the Big Burrito, (they were cool about her being in the restaurant, thankfully,) where we found out that she likes guacamole.  A lot, but then we have yet to find a food that she doesn’t devour.

Now we’re in the management office, staying out of the heat (it’s 103 today.)  They even let me use the verboten facilities, which was mighty kind of them, considering.  We’ve got an half hour to go, and I have to put the whole place back together when we go back inside.  I’d gladly trade for a nap, and I’m betting Winnie would, too.

I suppose I should learn some great lesson from this, but I haven’t found one, so, no clincher.  Sorry, folks.

Dog Tale

IMG_4775I was never a “dog person” until my former husband and I brought home a rescue we named Keilidh (pronounced kaylee.)  Six months later, we brought Tsuki (zookey) home.  The two were fast friends and are growing old together with Pete in Wyoming.  It was terribly sad to say goodbye to them.

Since then, (over a year,) I have felt a void inside that only a dog can fill.  My Mom has a dog, my best friend Christy has five of them.  Her Mom just got one, too.  I have been surrounded by mutts since I came to Phoenix, but it’s different when they’re yours.  There’s an implied level of responsibility; this creature depends on you for it’s well-being.

I went to the pound on Sunday and picked out a dog.  She’s a two-year old chihuahua mix who was named Oprah upon arrival at the dog pound.  Yes, I changed her name, to Winnie.  “Winnie” is a beautiful, mostly well-behaved but stubborn little girl.  She sleeps a great deal of the time and isn’t really into chasing a ball or tugging on a stuffie.  She’s great with every kind of stimuli that might potentially agitate a dog, like thunder, vacuums, cats, children other dogs .  She’s the polar opposite of Tsuki and Keilidh in so many ways;  they are reactionary psychotics compared to Winnie.  She loves to be held and only barks when I leave the apartment.  She has the cutest little howl.

You would think I’d be over the moon with this seemingly perfect dog, right?  I mean, I brought her home because she was laid back, but I had no idea just how mellow she really was.  Winnie wants to be on the bed sleeping practically 24 hours a day.  She doesn’t show particular interest in anything else.  I’m hoping it’s a hangover from her experiences and not her true character.  She’s sweet, don’t get me wrong, but she takes “chill” to a whole new level.

Here’s hoping Winnie strikes a balance between raving lunatic and practically dead.

*Update*  Aside from the complete lack of desire to play with toys, chew bones or engage in play of any form, Winnie is a real dog.  She lives for affection, food and sleep.  She is great with all people and kids (what a relief!)  She is nuts for men, in fact there a couple of guys in my complex she’s just crazy about.  So, It’s a tradeoff:  no playfulness for a wonderful disposition.  Now, to find out how she gets out of her crate, door closed…