A Pet Shop! I MUST go in there! Very disapointing..here, most pet shops only sell fish..& the poor buggers are prone in a plastic bag with enough water to keep them from drowning, but insufficient to allow them to swim.
I’ve felt sorry for a few fish in my lifetime. The one Toni, my niece, killed (2nd degree homicide) when she was 4 years old; she decided it was thirsty (plucking it out of its bowl & dumping it into a glass of orange juice). The 2 that died resulting from my compulsive use of Pea-Beau to combat the flies & cockroaches in Tolaga Bay. The 3 I was convicted of understandable, but slipshod care of when I cleaned their FILTHY POOEY stones with liquid Ajax & neglected to rinse sufficiently. The most tragic story of all..Christmas 1985, living in Te Kaha, the Mackintosh clan (Ben’s father’s family..all 7 of them), my Dad with his new wife & her 2 kids (14 of us in total) descending on my two-bedroom home..the Christmas Day kitchen was a frenzy from 5am. I’d moved the fish bowl from the kitchen table to the stove top (temporarily). Dad, bless his 1st-in-a-lifetime helpful jandals, turned the stove on around mid-day. Before we knew it, there was a foreign & awfully bad smell in the kitchen..”OH MY GOD..Goldie & Horny!” Too late..the bowl was melting, the water was boiling, G & H were cooked! No up-side..they were too small for filleting. I’ve never had a fishbowl since!
So what’s in this glass tank? YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRKKKK! A god-damned tarantula! YOU’VE GOT TO BE JE-YOKING! Nup..it’s true..they’re for sale in pet shops..5 tanks of them! Yes, I write “fuck’ reasonably regularly, but there’s NO WAY I’m going to share the quantity that day, or the myriad of other filthy words that went through my mind when I saw THOSE tanks!
Tanks of snakes, mice, rats, gerbils, & other vermin-like things..some isolated ‘mummy’s with their squirming furless yam-like off-spring..gross!
5 happy tanks for me..4 containing cutie puppies; one with 3 lizards..dunno what they were, other than fascinating.
The Cats: Ow-ow-ow..the strays make my ears bleed with their yowling, my heart ache because I know they’re hungry & need some loving, & my lap crave for a furry cuddle. Back in February, Sybil grabbed my arm & gently maneuvered me away from the 1st ‘little baby’ begging me to take it home.
Lots since then that I’ve had to force myself to be tough over.
The 2nd night I was back in Aguascalientes (the latest tour of duty) I was sitting at the kitchen table when an ear-splitting yowley racket set up in the reception area. Out to investigate, I found a tiny wee fur-ball skittering from the doorway under the client interview table, then from the client table to under my desk, then from my desk to behind the leather couch, then from the couch to under the coffee table..”yeehaaa” it yowled as it found a clear path to the kitchen..”Doh!” No escape route! Not true..the little bugger shot through my legs back to the reception area as I opened the fridge to get it some food. NO WAY was it going to take food from me..not even delectably pulsating imitation KFC. It quickly found the door it originally came in through.
All that fright hasn’t stopped it from making nightly visits..& today ‘Mum’ came to call. She didn’t deign to dismount the high wall from which she was observing me, but she had a lot to say for herself. We had quite a good chat!
The Accountant’s office may end up with a nice wee family before I depart!
I think I’ve already written about the small dogs that wear doggie clothes to ward off the chill of +25°C, live on the roofs, & make me giggle.
Since then, I’ve had a run-in with a couple of German Shepherds. They were co-residents of my Guadalajara compound. Most of the time they were cooped up in their pens, but one evening they were let loose for their daily run earlier than usual. I returned from my evening hour-long stride, stepped in through the gates only to be confronted by two territorial dogs. I gave the male my hand to sniff & said “Hola”. He stepped back, looked at me, then lunged & took the knee out of my jeans! “Aaaaah, ya bastard!” I shouted. As I leaped back from him his bitch grabbed my arm in her teeth. “FUCK OFF!” I barked as I wrenched & cunningly whipped back through the gate. I buzzed the landlord’s house & asked that he come & collect his dogs so I could get back to the safety of my hobbit-hole. 30-MINUTES LATER, the dogs were penned again. In the meantime, a golden retriever, smelling the terror oozing out of my pores, decided IT should bark & growl at me on the street! A BAD evening..I’ve never had dogs hate me before (other than one senile old codger that took exception to me walking home after dropping Ben off on his 2nd day of school). For the 1st time since I was 4 years old I’ve felt an all encompassing fear of dogs. The problem here is they don’t understand English, & I don’t speak Spanish.
Once again..my beloved Aguascalientes has worked its magic.
I can’t remember the name of the film, but do you remember it? Tom Hanks, can’t remember the name of the actress who played the vet/love-interest..she’s famous though, & the MASSIVE dog named ‘Hooch’.
Well, Hooch’s great-great-great-great…-grandson lives across the road from me. He’s gorgeous! He’s a bugger! He ‘monsters’ anyone foolish enough to walk past his fence..but the fence is a strong, tall, chicken-wire jobby, so he can’t do any damage. That said, he hasn’t once become agitated by my voice & foreign language. I’m taking him a whole minced cow before I leave, just to say “Thanks, & I think you’re lovely!” I’ve watched him during the recent storms..he gets so excited by the rain. He runs around his yard, leaps at the back-boards of the utes parked there, springs off them, twists in mid-air, lands, & races off on another circuit of the yard. He’s very daggy! I feel sorry for him..he’s locked in the yard 24/7, & is a ‘junk-yard-dog’..he’s fed & watered (though his water bucket is a disgusting stagnant pond..no-one thinks to clean the bucket), has maybe 15-minutes of ‘human-therapy’ each day which he’s ecstatic about. On the other hand, he has more area to race around in than any dog I’ve seen here yet..so he’s also lucky. On the OTHER hand, again I feel sorry for him..with the heavy rains, at the highest & driest point of his territory, he’s snuggled into a 1-inch puddle. (I refer you, at this point, to my comment about 7am showers..COLD!)
He’s given me a few sleepless nights; “Why’s he barking this late? What’s that rattling noise..is it my gate?”..on the hour, every hour! Nada, pequeño cabrõn (nothing, little bastard)!
I’ve started talking to him, & calling out “Hooch, enough! Shut up! Go to sleep!” It hasn’t made any difference of course, but at least knows my voice.
Friday, 02 June 2006 Too much for me, Hooch was going off his rocker tonight. I sifted through the kitchen crap & grabbed a polystyrene plate that I loaded with onion, garlic, chilli & mint loaded mince, plus a raw egg mixed through, & a small plastic container filled with fresh water that would fit under the fence. “Sod off with your water, gimme the food!” The poor boy is painfully skinny! Mince gone in a gnat’s breath, I was back to the kitchen to find something else to feed him. A couple of plastic bags with scorned crusts, & a paper bag with half a delicious bakery bread loaf turned to concrete..the concrete bread softened with water & flavoured with a chicken stock cube in my best bowl; back to ‘my boy’. I tentatively fed him the crusts through the chicken wire (aka poked it through & whipped my hand away before he could bite it off)..no need for fear, he has the softest mouth in the world! After discovering that, I poked my hand through the wire gaps & let him eat the bakery bread & lick the chicken stock juice from my hand & fingers. I jimmied the fence enough to get my bowl through to him so he could lap up the rest of the stock..he was STILL hungry! Back to the kitchen & I whipped up 4 eggs that failed MY freshness test, plus a couple of stolen soft taco’s torn up & mixed in. “OK Hooch, this is all you’re getting tonight!” He allowed my arm into his territory to retrieve my bowl; & has been quiet for the rest of tonight. I still have 4 ‘not for Pru’ eggs that he can have tomorrow.
I’m expecting to be paid some peso’s tomorrow..that’ll buy me & Hooch enough mince & bread to feed us both for the next week. I just need to work out how I can get a big bucket of fresh water into his compound.
Saturday, 03 June 2006 Hooch & I are firm friends! I shared my breakfast, lunch, & afternoon tea with him.
Rene, doubting the friendship, demanded I show him how nice Hooch actually is. He watched my lack of fear (in comparison to the terror the Guadalajara Shepherds instilled in me), Hooch came to my call & gently lapped food from my hand. Rene watched as I poked my hand through the fence to feed Hooch, & was amazed that a dog so starved would take food with nothing but his softie lips.
Hooch & I both passed the test..he’s a nice dog; I’m a dog lover.
Rene spoke to the neighbours, & they all agree Hooch never has fresh water, & is seldom fed. We linked a series of hoses so we could fill two huge buckets of water for Hooch.
The latest edgy law-break game..Rene, the neighbours & I are planning to ‘jail-break’ Hooch. The only catch..”what’re we going to do with him?” As far as I’m concerned, it’s easy..”He’s coming with me!”
Ahhhhh..there’s nothing like ‘fur-therapy’!
Love from Pru, the lizard, kitty, & doggy lover! XXXX
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