Moving In

She just comes in and helps herself to the food and drink, makes herself comfortable, invites her friends to come and join her and does whatever she wants. No respect, no thanks, no gratitude. And when I have had enough of her gimmie, gimmie attitude and ask her to leave what does she do? She ignores me. Do you think I would go to her house and go about eating her food and bringing my friends to party? No, of course not. But, she does not give it a second thought. As if I owe her a living. As if I owe her the comfort she demands.

Of all the places in the world she could go, why does she have to pick on me? This is my house. I pay the rent, not her. In fact, she does not even offer to pay rent or offer any kind of compensation. Nor does she bring home groceries to share. No, she just assumes that her food and shelter will be provided. And, who invited her anyway?

And she eats, eats, eats. And what she can not eat she chews up in an effort to eat what ever she can get her teeth into. Why doesn't she take up chewing tobacco? That would keep her chewing response alive and well.

It is not enough that she is pees and poops on my floor and in the cabinets every night. No, that is not enough. She has to steal my pens and pencils as well. Then she helps herself to other small items, items easily concealed. Items like my USB memory sticks, my small San Disks and other valuable items so long as they are small. Well, for the record, I have had it. I am fed up to here!

I know it is not the wholesome thing to wish for, but quite frankly, I wish she were gone. And since she will not leave on her own, I am forced to take drastic measures to throw her out for good. Pesky little pack rat! Lets see if she likes the new tainted food I put out for her. 

Copyright 2016 by Richard McDonald

Entries are the works in progress. The finished work appears under 'Categories' or in the Pages Bar. All content on this blog is the copyrighted original work of Richard McDonald.

Obnoxious Barking

My wife and I were riding the bus home after a long work day. We were thinking warm thoughts of the supper we would soon be enjoying when suddenly this older woman pushes her way in to sit between us and begins talking, “I'm Jan and I have C.O.P.D.,” she says, “and that makes it hard to breath. . . .” We didn't know this lady and we had no interest in her medical issues. Besides that, we had not invited her to share our bus seat.
Clearly she does not care that she has intruded and she pulls out her Ipad and begins to show us videos of her and her dog; her and her grand children and her blowing out candles on a birthday cake.
“Since I started with Spiriva, I feel much better. . . . “
We didn't really care about her favorite drug. We just wanted to get home to our supper.
“Ask your doctor if Spiriva is right for you, she says just before she finally gets up and leaves.
We're pleased she is gone, but then a few minuets later she returns, pushes her way between us again and begins as if we had never heard her spiel before.
“I'm Jan and I have C.O.P.D. and that makes it hard to breath. . . .”
Finally, our stop comes up and we leave her going through her pitch to no one in particular. The next day was similar. This time it was an older overweight man who pushes his way between us. “I'm Mike and I have Diabetic Foot Pain,” he says. He too, pulls out his Ipad and begins to show us videos of him playing golf.
We try to tune him out, “. . . Ask your doctor if Lyrica is right for you,” he says as we look away. That pattern repeats every night- night after night.
Oh, wait! We're not on a bus in the city on our way home. We're sitting on the couch in front of our TV at home in a small desert town in Southern Utah, waiting for our supper to warm in the microwave.
A thin looking woman in a white lab coat comes on the screen. She's walking around talking to what appears to be her patients. Then she speaks to the camera, “I have dry eye . . . .” That's when I push the mute button.

Copyright 2015 by Richard McDonald

Entries are the works in progress. The finished work appears under 'Categories' or in the Pages Bar. All content on this blog is the copyrighted original work of Richard McDonald.

The Evils of Tessa

We have a dog. A very evil dog. Her name is Tessa but we call her Tessie. She is a yellow lab mix and weighs around forty pounds- a beautiful short hair pale yellow dog with black eye liner.
She was eight months old when we adopted her and in the beginning we thought she was the sweetest of all dogs. We have now learned the truth. As she began to learn about mastering exploration and how to navigate the desert mountain landscape where we live, we could see that she had intellectual abilities far beyond simply sniffing out carrion and eating it, although we were very quick to learn that food was an exceptionally powerful motivation for her.
Before she came to live with us, our other less mischievous dogs were quite satisfied to search the hills and valleys for animal treasures they could bring home. And for awhile, it seemed, Tessie was also content with these prizes, but she needed more of a challenge, it seemed..
Our nearest neighbor in the valley below is approximately a half mile away, and there are two restaurants at the highway intersection three quarters of a mile away. In the summertime there are occasionally hikers who sometimes camp on the Federal land nearby.
None of this has quite explained where Tessie, one fine summer day, got the unopened loaf of bread she brought home, nor the stick of butter she carried home a few weeks later. None of these places has quite explained where Tessie got the half pound of cottage cheese, the packet of burnt toast, the partially eaten hot dog in a bun, the opened medium sized bag of potato chips, the prepackaged sliced beef with mashed potatoes and gravy lunch, the partially eaten cheese and cracker snack packet or the shrimp salad in a sealed Tupperware bowl, the half pound of very moldy cheese or the large partially eaten sweet peach.

A Fly In The Night

Here we are again, three weeks after the monsoon rains and thunder storms and we are in the thick of fly season. And they are everywhere, especially if you have any kind of animals- dogs, cats, horses, llamas, alpacas, livestock, etc.

At our house we have dogs, cats and llamas. The llamas like most to hang around the house, though they have acreage upon which to roam. They hang out near the house- don't even venture down the hillsides where the sweet and tender bark and plant shoots are. Nope, they wait for their daily dose of 'four way' grains in a plastic dish and their staple- hay.

This concentration of animals creates a picnic ground for the flies. And those little flying creatures explore every animal that appears on the landscape. When I am outside working I have to remember to keep each bare skinned limb moving lest the flies find my flesh worth exploring. Once they land they often find that a sample bite is justified to see if I have begun to rot yet. There is some comfort in knowing I am not the only animal they want to survey. They do the same to the faces of the llamas and the dogs especially around their eyes and mouths.

A Breakfast Guest

It was slightly gloomy for a desert summer day. I was returning from my morning shopping and was carrying the bags of apples and oranges I had bought.

When I approached the deck stairs I could see this guy, this roadrunner, on the railing. He seemed a rather presumptuous bird. I hadn’t seen him before but there he was, sitting on the deck railing looking all puffed and proud as if he owned the place.

He watched me ascend as if I were the intruder, then without so much as an introduction, he began to tell me all about his adventures from the previous afternoon.  I guessed he was a bit lonely from the way he spoke, as if we were friends.  I expected him to fly off when I reached the front door, since we were only a couple of feet apart, but he stayed put.

Moving In

She just comes in and helps herself to the food and drink, makes herself comfortable, invites her friends to come and join her and does wh...

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