A Pre-Thanksgiving Day Surprise

On Wednesday, Calvin, who is 19 months old, and is our only male grandbaby came to visit. I am very excited when the grandbabies come to our house because I have so much to teach them. And they frequently drop food.

To be honest, when the grandbabies age, I lose interest in them. Once they get old enough to pick me up, squeeze me, and cause general uncomfortableness, I get done with the sniffing and greeting then I am cool with finding a place to hang out where they can’t bother me. They have Pocket to carry around the house, pet, poke, jostle and generally annoy.

But I love the little ones who aren’t coordinated enough to annoy. Who stumble around, fall to their knees and laugh. Who crap in their pants. They are my peeps.

When Calvin came over Mommy gave him some loose goldfish treats, and a sealed box containing more goldfish. He would eat one, and then drop his hand, and I would be all over that hand, licking, nuzzling and ticking until I got a treat. It was like taking goldfish from a baby.

Once Mommy told him to watch his hands because I was stealing them. Calvin looked down at me, smiled, and handed me a goldfish. What a wonderfully smart boy. But then tragedy struck. We ran out of goldfish.

We did have the unopen box of treats. He picked the box up, held the top near his mouth and shook it. “No Calvin!” I said as the humans laughed at him. “We need to get the top off before we can eat them.” I ran into the kitchen and barked at the knife drawer but Mommy told me no. For some reason she didn’t want the kid running around with a knife. I know. I can’t figure it either.

Calvin was looking at the box, and then he lifted it over his head and threw it down. We both were expecting it to burst open but it only made a small dent in it. I told him to do it again. He bent down, picked it up, held it over his head, and threw it down. The dent got a little bigger. Now we were making progress.

He picked it up again and this time it hit a corner. I was sure it was busted open this time. But that little box held. This was the most frustrating thing I had ever been through. He kept throwing, I kept hoping, but the hardest substance man has ever made, cardboard, held up. Finally it was time to go, the box got put away, Calvin got dressed and the dream slowly faded away.

But before they left I picked up an important piece of information. Calvin’s mother is having a litter. Two kids at the same time due in May. I don’t know why humans waste their time having one baby at time, way too time consuming, so I am glad she wised up and is having a duo. So in a little while there will be two babies crawling around, and with two babies I know we can get that carton of goldfish open.

That was a nice surprise and gave us something else to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

Mickey Red Fish swims to Rainbow Bridge

Our fish died this morning. His name was Mickey Red Fish. We called him that because he was red. I used to go over and watch him swimming back and forth…..oh who am I kidding it was a fish! It was in a vase with a plant on top of it. The poor thing got zero lap time. It wouldn’t come out and play, it never stopped taking a bath, the thing shouldn’t even of been called a pet. It was a screen saver with a heart. You’ve got to know when you’re a pet and you hear Mommy’s making supper and she says she’s frying up some of your cousin Felix’s family that you’re not the most beloved member of the clan.

I really didn’t have much interaction with Mickey. Occasionally, in the morning, if I am enough of a bother, I can get Daddy to put me up on the table so I can get a good scratch and be Pocket free, and I’d look over at Mickey, and he’s say to me, “I’ll give you $50.00 if you break the vase and I’ll try to slide my way to the door.” I did not take him up on the offer. I seriously doubt he had that kind of money floating about. Once a month Mommy would change his water, he was such a fuss-budget, and that was time she could have been giving me lap.

Now Mommy says they are going to have to go out and get a new fish. I am sorry but this offended me a little. Why go out and buy a fish when you can adopt one of the millions of fish in the ocean who are in need of a good home? But no, not Mommy and Daddy: no, they are going to run out to some place like Pet Smart and slap down three or four dollars for overly bred fish that probably came from a fishie mill where it’s poor Mom lives in a coffee mug, breeds 400 times a year, and has babies who think living in a vase with a plant on top with six inches of swimming space is a sweet deal!

This morning we all walked over to the toilet with him so he could begin his journey to Rainbow Bridge. When we puppies die we bounce off the moon, fly over the sun, and peacefully land beyond Rainbow Bridge. When you’re a fish you make a break for it like Tim Robbins in the last act of Shawshank Redemption. Mommy said how Mickey was a tough little fish, how each morning she expected him to be tits up (excuse me, I’m not sure about fish tits, but if they exist, they sound like they’re made by Nabisco) but he always gave my Mom a little wave of his tail saying “I’m still here.” She then poured him into the bowl and gave him a three flush salute because he was a great fish and Daddy overstuffed the john again.

I guess I will miss you Mickey Red Fish. Do a flip out of the water and say hi to Moses, Barge, Buttons, Daisy, and my other bridge friends. At least your swimming free, my little friend.