Tag Archive | animal tales

My new job as Physical Therapist … give me a whip!

 

Leading the Geezer - "Only two more miles."

Leading the Geezer – “Only two more miles.”

 

I’m added another title to my many accolades – Physical Therapist. The Geezer’s recent hip replacement has him shuffling along and I’ve decided to take a personal hand in getting the old boy up and operating at full speed! What ever that is for him. Here we’re walking in the morning Florida sun.

I’ve found training him presents its challenges. The use of a dish of ice cream as a treat reward overcomes all obstacles, however. This is another example of how we canines are human’s best friends.

 

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Meet my friend Thomas!

 

Read Thomas’ description of life as a lady author’s cat.

 

Hi Gals & Guys - Meet and welcome my feline friend, Thomas

Hi Gals & Guys – Meet and welcome my feline friend, Thomas

The Five Best Things about Being the Cat of an Author

Hello, everyone! My name is Thomas, and my human, Kate, is an author. I’m sure Sandy has shared lots of stories about what it’s like to be the canine companion of one of these odd humans. However, I thought you all might like to know a bit more about the feline side. So, without any ado (I’ve got to catch my afternoon cat nap!), here are my favorite things about having an author for my human:

  1. I get to help!

Sometimes, Kate sits down with her laptop to write and the words get stuck in her brain. Just when she thinks about giving up for the night, it’s Tommy to the rescue! I’m the perfect size to crawl up in her lap and lay on top of her arms. With me being so sweet (and pinning her hands to the keyboard), she can’t help but keep working.

  1. Procrastination = Tommy Time

Whenever Kate is trying to avoid working on her author business, I reap the benefits. She’ll bustle around the apartment, cleaning my litterbox, gathering my misplaced toys, and giving me fresh food and water. It’s like having my own personal maid. Now I’ve just got to train her to sprinkle a few kitty treats on top of the regular food …

  1. She’s easy to cuddle.

Much of Kate’s author “research” involves reading other books (especially those in her genres – science fiction and fantasy). Most of the time, she reads in the bed (that is, in my bed), propped up against the pillows. While she takes up more room than I’d like, it’s the perfect time to get my cuddle fix and a few good ear scratchings.

  1. It’s all about me.

Kate says that her career goal is to be a full-time author, so that she can stay home with me all day long. If that isn’t devotion from a human, I don’t know what is! I know she’ll get there and that’s not just my feline loyalty talking. She is really good – all you have to do is read some of her work.

  1. I’m on the fast track to fame!

Part of Kate’s author work includes social media and sending an email newsletter. Often, she likes to take pictures of me to share with her growing readership. (Probably because I’m way more photogenic than she is … and who doesn’t love cats?!) I’m a frequent star on her Instagram, Facebook, and I even get to make a few appearances on the blog. Give it a couple years, and I’ll have my own YouTube series. Just you wait!

If you’d like to learn more about Kate (and me!), you can visit her author website at www.KateMColby.com. And don’t forget to follow her on social media to see all my adorable photos!

It's me Thomas! Oh those humans in the background are MY humans, author Kate & husband Daniel

It’s me Thomas! Oh those humans in the background are MY humans, author Kate & husband Daniel

 

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Meet the Manatees – my wet buddies …. Their reality show screen test

    Meet some of my big wet friends, Mathew and Matilda Manatee. They just stopped by to say HI! Some facts about my friends … they live in the warm tropical waters around Florida and in the Caribbean. Mat and Matilda eat vegetation varying from sea grass to mangrove leaves. An adult can reach eight feet in length and weigh 500 pounds or more. They’re mammals, but can slow their heart rates to less than a beat a minute allowing them to stay submerged for long periods of time. They come into our sheltered canal each spring to make more manatees. You know – the birds and the bees thing.

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A Gift of laughter from Sandy and the Geezer —-

Merry Christmas!

The Geezer and I wish you all a very "Merry Christmas"

The Geezer and I wish you all a very “Merry Christmas”

The Geezer and I have a present for you and your friends. It’s a package of laughs in the form of a blog post named “Claus and the Consultant.” Learn what happens when Santa seeks help from an efficiency expert. Visit my human’s blog to read it  —-  http://www.dlhavlin.wordpress.com  —- and enjoy. (There’s a link on this page)  Spread the joy to friends and associates.

 

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The Tree Frog Band

You’ve met two of my three new buddies, Gofo the tortoise and Tina the rabbit, in previous posts. They’re gentle, laid-back folks that match the area we live in.

Then, there is the Tree Frog Band. I count them as one friend … they function that way. They are natives. However, they’d fit in better on one of the “B” streets, Bourbon or Beale. I can see them strolling Rodeo Drive or 42nd Street.

Frog band with 2nd set of instruments. Courtesy of Matlacha Menagerie on Pine Island

Frog bank with 2nd set of instruments. Courtesy of Matlacha Menagerie on Pine Island

The Tree Frog Band is a quartet. There’s Gooey Feet who plays guitar, clarinet, and sings tenor, The Mad Hopper pounds the keyboard, blows the trumpet, and sings “Dew-up,” Green Jeans strums base and sucks the sax, and Croaker is the lead singer … and … well … croaks. They were the first folks I met after we moved in. What a group! They can do endless sets, never taking a break. They’re a gregarious group, always ready to hop on the stage and do their thing. Unfortunately, that thing is one song … A Rainy Night in Florida.

I’ll never forget meeting them for the first time. I was walking down the stairs intent on finding the right patch of grass when a voice crooned, “She has natural rhythm.” It was Croaker.

“Yeh, man, a maxed-out, cool bitch,” Green Jeans offered.

“Look at that tail swing. Dig that for a drum beat.” Gooey Feet was right in there,

The Mad Hopper added “Dew-up.”

Croaker asked, “Have you considered the stage, Golden lady. New York? Maybe Vegas? Picture you in a bikini with feathers in your fur.”

I said, “I ha—

“Hows about Hollywood and the flicks? You’d wow them in Caan.” Green jeans said.

I said, “Well—”

“She’s a natural for Nashville,” Gooey Feet opined. “Let me hear you yodel.”

“I can’t—”

The Mad Hopper added “Dew-up.”

“What a beauty,” Croaker said – “What a body,” Green Jeans said – “What a voice,” Gooey Feet said – “Dew-up” The Mad Hopper emphasized. In unison they declared, “She’ll make billions!” “Dew-up,” The Mad Hopper finalized.

About that time the rain started. “OUR QUE!!” Croaker screamed. “One, two, three … It’s a rainy night in Florida” – and so it continued. I was forgotten in an instant.

It’s the same routine every time I go downstairs after or during a rain. The lines and lies are identical. I know it’s all just frog poop … they’re spreading their bologna … except for the Mad Hopper … he’s a square up guy … but I enjoy it. A girl just can’t get enough flattery.

 

Sandy

“Shudder” – My friend Tina

In my last blog I mentioned how living out of my home while its being re-mediated has allowed me to meet new friends like “Gofo” the horny old Gopher tortoise. I thought I’d introduce you to two more new acquaintances. You’ll meet “Shudder” this time.

Shudder is Tina the tiny rabbit. I’ve nick-named her Shudder because when she first met me she shook and shuddered when I got close. Tina lives in a huge asparagus fern in the front yard where we’re staying. The first time I saw her, she was hiding from the Geezer who’d walked around the house one way while I went around the other. Shudder was less than half the size of other rabbits I’d seen. She had to be very young, not much more than a baby. I walked up behind her and got within two feet before she realized I was there.

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I said, “Hi, I’m Sandy. I’m a Golden Retriever. I want to be your friend.”

Shudder earned her nick-name right then. She vibrated like a banjo string, her ears stuck out at odd angles, her eyes were wide and her nose and tail twitched. She said in a terrified voice, “You’re not a Golden Whatever, you’re a dog! I know about your kind. Go away or I’ll hurt you!” Tina covered her eyes with one tiny paw and pitifully swung the other in my direction.”

“A Golden Retriever is a dog. It’s just the type dog I am. I’m not a rabbit dog … I’m a duck dog. You don’t have anything to worry about. Let’s play.” Each time she’d head for the fern I’d get between her and her home. I call the game block the other animal unless I play it with humans. Then I call the game block the dumb butts. Finally, Shudder tired of the game. She froze, put her paws up in a prayerful manner, and implored, “Make it quick, please!”

“Make what quick?” I asked.

“Aren’t you going to eat me?” She asked.

“No. I don’t eat my friends! Where did you get such an idea?” I laid down in the grass and rolled to let her know I wasn’t going to harm her.

“My momma told me dogs eat rabbits, cats too. She told me not to trust anyone.”

I reflected on that for a couple minutes, before saying. “Generally speaking, she’s correct. But, hey, I’m Sandy, the most unaggressive, but protective dog in the universe. If I’m around, I’ll keep you safe. But if I’m not, you better hide if you see some other animal. Besides dogs and cats, snakes, racoons, eagles, owls, hawks, all would make you lunch. You’d better hide if I’m not here. By the way, where is your mom?”

Tina began to cry, “She left one morning and never came back.” I consoled Tina and promised to look out for her. I hope she grows fast enough to be safe on her own. Anyway, we play every morning when I go out for my constitutional. I sure do love little kids.

 

Sandy

How an old problem brought new friends — “Gofo it”

In my last post I told you about the Chinese drywall problem that has caused the Geezer, Mrs. G and me to temporarily leave our house. Of course, Oreo came too. Oreo is my feline friend. Or as he might be called if he were of native American heritage … “He who has smelly pot.” He and it stay on the screened porch.

Being jerked out of the only home you’ve ever known is an unsettling experience. The only place I can remember living is at the Geezer’s place on the canal. My humans made me queen of the realm when I was eight weeks old and I don’t remember much prior, other than snuggling up to my mom. There, everything is where it should be, smells right, and I know the best places to hide, sleep, and aggravate the Geezer and Mrs. G. The place I’m in now has things like sliding glass doors which always seem to be closed when they should be open. Ouch!

I’ve made friends with most everybody around our home. The humans call me the “neighborhood greeter.” I miss all my friends in the Canine Chowder and Ham Bone Marching Society, Matilda the manatee, the night heron families that nest across the canal in the mangroves, Pete, Pedro, Pauline, and Petulla the pelicans, and a bunch more. Hell, I even miss Hiss and Sneaky B the black snakes. I’m sure they’ll all be there when I return, but…..

There is one good thing about being in a different place. It gives you the opportunity to make new buds. Take one fellow I met last week. The home we’re living in has a canal in the back yard just like ours. The Geezer and I were sitting near the seawall, boat-lift, and dock. The Geezer had dozed off and I was sleepy myself when I heard this old baritone voice saying, “Gofo it, gofo it, gofo it, gofo it.” It was coming from a large Gopher turtle that was waddling down the seawall. He looked and was old. I said, “Hi.” The old turtle nodded and kept repeating, “Gofo it.” He trudged down the seawall, out on the dock to the tip end, looked around some, and retreated. It was obvious he was trying to get across the canal.

I was curious, so I had to ask. “Say old timer, you trying to get to the other side of the canal”

He answered, “Un-huh. Gofo it. Gofo it. Gofo it.”

“You’re gonna have to go all the way to the end and walk around.”

He nodded continuing to walk and talk.

“What’s with the … Gofo it? You stuttering or trying to remember something?”

“Remember. Gofo it.” He resumed his ritual.

“What are you trying to remember?” I asked.

He said, “Youngster, when you get older you have to stay focus to remember. About 35 years ago, them damn humans built this canal. My girl friend lives on the other side. That makes for a long walk to visit. So, to keep focused, I keep tellin’ myself … Gofo it!”

 

Sandy