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My new buddy! Ruger! He’s a real son-of-a-gun.

This is RUGER! He’s my new relative. Cousin Ruger has more energy than tens dogs should have

Meet the newest addition to our family. He is an Australian Shepard named Ruger. Ruger owns my human’s daughter and her family. Ruger, Lori, Mike and Bradley came down to visit and fish with the Geezer. Did you notice his eyes? Intense!

Of course, Ruger is a puppy. His perpetual puppy spring is still wound tight. He’s always on the move chasing something or somebody. From the time he bounded up the stairs until the time Lori and Mike’s pickup left for North Carolina … I was his primary objective. Being young and being male, well I’m sure you understand. I was polite and didn’t get harsh with him. However, I spent a lot of my time in a sitting position.

Ruger is a chaser. Balls … birds … beagles … boys … it doesn’t matter. He’s a very love-able character. Enthusiastic about everything, I got tired just watching him.

Ruger and me. Note my position.

 

“Chow Hound” should be Ruger’s nick-name. Here he drools over a lobster toy

 

The Geezer, Mrs. G, and I all enjoyed the not-so-little guy. Oreo our black and white cat was less thrilled. They stared at each other from a distance and Oreo chose the high ground. Stairs. The balcony. Back of the couch. The high ground.

 

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My goodness, is there really a cat-house in River City?

This is not the type “cat house” my friends were speaking about.

It has been sometime since I’ve attended a meeting of the Canine Chowder & Marching Society. I have to admit I miss the gossip, but lately it seems every get-together conflicts with my schedule.

Last meeting was held the same day Mrs. G went to the bank. Couldn’t miss that. The lady in the drive-through window is a real softy. She always gives me triple treats and if I look disappointed she doubles them up. Time before I had a case of the “Shags” … you know, a dog’s condition when his human looses the defurminator. I couldn’t stand thinking of all the comments that would be made about my coat. You know, the neighborhood dogs can be so catty! There was a reason I missed the meeting prior to the one before the last meeting I missed that wasn’t the last meeting. Or something like that. I’ve missed so many recently I can’t keep up.

My friend Lucy, the cocker spaniel, asked me to go. There was a motion to adopt a no peeing on the rose bushes rule that the lady Marching Society members backed and the male contingent opposes. You’d think the boys wouldn’t mind that little restriction on their lift and sprinkle, but no … Honestly, they are screaming like we were asking for universal castration. Male ego … Ugh! I decided to support my gender so I went.

We hadn’t gotten a place to sit when Fifi the poodle raced up to us and said breathlessly, “Did you know there’s a cat house on Pine Island?” Gossip! Wonderful, gossip!

I tried to act relatively uninterested and naive. “A cat house? I live in a cat house, or at least a house with a cat in it. What’s unusual about that?”

“Not that type cat house. The other type of cat house.” Fifi looked exasperated. Lucy looked consumed.

Lucy said, “Oh how exciting! What can you tell us about it!”

“Exciting?” I said. I ignored Fifi’s statement about another type cat. “What’s exciting about having cats in your house. I have one. Fifi you have a Siamese and Lucy your human has three. What’s the big deal?” Sometimes I get great pleasure from being obtuse. Maybe its a gal thing.

Fifi leaned close and whispered, “They’re two legged cats.”

I tried to look dumb and remain silent. Both are difficult for me.

Fifi forgot to whisper. “They’re whores!” Everybody at the meeting glanced our way. Fifi lowered her voice. “I saw four of them sitting at a table playing cards and talking about rubbers.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lucy asked.

Fifi was emphatic, “YES!”

I asked, “How do you know? Were they wearing fishnet stockings, short shorts, high heels, and driving Mercedes convertibles.”

“NO! They all were wearing tee shirts that said, I’m a proud Matlacha Hooker.

Lucy and I laughed. I said, “Fifi, you’ve had a brain fart. The Matlacha Hookers are a lady’s civic club.”

Some dogs shouldn’t be taught to read.

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My human asked me to include some of his propaganda in my post. He feeds me so I figured I’d better.

 

Welcome to the Menagerie

Hot author behind hot books in Matlacha

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’d love to have all of you that can, visit me at the Matlacha Menagerie this Saturday from 10:30 to 3:00. This unique boutique gift and book shop is located at 4604 Pine Island Road. Matlacha is a quaint village located west of Cape Coral. The 40’s buildings and Bohemian decor are reminiscent of the “old Florida Keys.” Loaded with art galleries, unique gift shops, and sea food places, Matlacha is on the way to Florida’s Mango capital, Pine Island. Come chat for a while.

 

Here I’m doing my historical presentation, “The Loyal 14th Colony, Florida in the Revolutionary War”

Excuse me, I have to brag a little. Sandman Book Co. owner Heidi told me she put a RSVP for 30 seats at this presentation and 20 were filled in the 1st hour.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had a great crowd at the Sandman Book Co. last Saturday. The attendees were enthusiastic and really into history. The type of people who attend these presentations prove my contention that READERS ARE THINKERS.

 

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July & the temperature’s sweltering. Florida’s less fun in the summer.

Florida in July & August. It’s too hot to move.

“Summertime,” the song from Gershwin’s classic, Porgy and Bess, tells us the living is easy this time of year. Well, the fish may be jumping here in Florida, but it’s because the water is so hot they are afraid they might get boiled if they stay in it too long. And the humidity … Yuk! My human just smiles when I complain. He’s lived here most of his long life and is reconciled to be miserable three months of the year. If my grumbles get loud, he laughs and says, “Sandy, just keep counting the days. You only have 75 more until October and relief.” Not funny!

I get even when he takes me for a walk. Even if he’s just left the shower, his clothes are drenched with perspiration by the time he reaches the driveway. Plus, I get a little more revenge. Early in the mornings when we go out, the clouds of sand-flies and mosquitoes are active and hungry. My Golden coat protects me. Not he … he, he, ho, ho, ha, ha.

Even the owls are staying underground!

The wildlife is smart. They stay in the shade and take it easy during the middle of the day. Those that can, conduct their “business” at night; the rest get things done mornings and evenings. Even gators and snakes look for a cool hole to hide in.

I envied Margret the Manatee … until she told me the water is 89!

Everyone in our house stays inside and slows down this time of year. Oreo, my feline brother, slows to stop. He’s shown below after he ate lunch. Oreo is always demanding, but this time of year he insists that his fish fillets be cut into very small pieces so he doesn’t have to expend energy wagging his jaws. He told me he requested his litter box be mounted on an I-Roomba and be programmed to follow him around so he didn’t have far to go … to go, but the Geezer turned him down.

Oreo prostrate from his toughest activity of the day … eating.

The Geezer may give me a hard time about complaining, but I’ve noticed he’s not scheduling any out-door book events right now. An example. This Saturday he will be doing one of his historical presentations, “The Loyal 14th Colony, Florida in the Revolutionary War.” I notice it is going to be held in the spacious, air conditioned environs of the Sandman Book Co. Sandman Book Co. is located at 16480 Burnt Store Rd., in Turtle Crossing Plaza, near Punta Gorda, Florida. He’ll be speaking from 11:00 AM until noon. If you live near by (or not) stop and see him. You’ll be cool!

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