Silent Sunday

Foo Dogs -- The Perfect Memorial

You know what’s hard?

Trying to find a Chinese Foo Dog in the middle of Oklahoma.

You know what’s harder?

Driving around rural Oklahoma AND the Osage Nation Native American Reservation trying to find the one and only store in the middle of Oklahoma that sells a Chinese Foo Dog.

Not to mention keeping my temper when I discover that the one and only store in the middle of Oklahoma that sells a Chinese Foo Dog only takes cash.

All in all, it’s been a rather weird day.

But I get ahead of myself…it all started about a month and a half ago when I had to say goodbye to my 13 year old Chihuahua, Peek-A-Boo.  I still can’t bear to talk about it, you can read about his life here.  Anyway, my mom wanted to get me some sort of memorial of him and since he was always outside in the garden with me, she thought I should get some sort of garden statuary.  But she wanted me to pick it out, because she wanted it to be just right.

To be honest, it was challenging to find the exact right thing…largely because the main reason Peek liked the garden was that he would wriggle his fat little body through the rows and eat any vegetable he could get his paws on.  Seriously, he ate tomatoes off the vine, spinach and arugula off the plant, he even dug up the broccoli plants and gobbled them down stalks and all.

He was not what you might call a normal dog.

And there aren’t a lot of Chihuahua Eating Broccoli statues available.

Anyway, I finally decided on a Chinese Foo Dog because they are half dog, half lion and are the traditional guardians of Buddhist temples…and I decided that they were the perfect representation of Peek’s lion-like heart.

However, as I mentioned, they are a little challenging to find in the middle of Oklahoma.

It has taken me almost a month to find a place that even knew what I was talking about…and that place is in the middle of a little town called Skiatook.

Which is only about 45 minutes away…if, of course, you don’t get lost.  And if the route that your GPS sends you on isn’t filled with construction and crazy detours through the worst parts of town…I mean, meandering around North Tulsa wasn’t quite as scary as the time I got lost in East St Louis, but it was close.  There’s just something about a pawnshop on every corner rusted out cars on every lawn that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

So, an hour and fifteen minutes later, after making my way through scary North Tulsa, three practically abandoned small towns, and finding my way to the Osage Nation Native American Reservation, I found the statuary store.

And saw this sign:

Have you ever seen a more customer unfriendly sign in your life?  I mean, we’ll TRY to help you…unless we’re on our lunch break, then you’re on your own.

But my main concern was that they don’t take credit cards…and I never have cash.  I looked in my purse, hoping for a miracle, and managed to gather twenty-seven cents.

Probably not enough for a concrete Foo Dog.

So, after trying to remember every curse word I know—and singing a few in time to the song on the radio—I started driving up and down the streets of Skiatook, looking for a bank or a gas station or a grocery store where I could buy something like a pack of gum and use my debit card to get cash back.

Which is when I found the WalMart.

I think every town in America has a WalMart…and every WalMart has 1,716 lanes but 1,714 are usually closed—in spite of the fact that there are always 453,892 people in the store.

But you can get cash back on your purchases so I grabbed a bag of M&Ms and waited 10 minutes to get through the line and get enough cash to go get my dog.

And if you think this added stress to my day, consider the poor man who had to finally deal with me at the statuary store…I went back, called the number,  and got lucky enough to get someone to find me.

“I’m looking for a Foo Dog,” I said…and surprised myself by kind of tearing up.

He gave me a strange look and let me to the Asian art display.

And I took one look at the Foo Dog and burst into tears  “That’s perfect!”  I said.   “It’s just like my dog!”

I had the feeling that he either wanted to explain to me that Foo Dogs aren’t real or ask me what kind of mutant dog I had, but he had clearly already decided that I was a dangerous lunatic (perhaps he saw the cursing display on my first trip) .  Or maybe he just isn’t used to women sobbing in the statuary store.

So he just said, “Ok then.” and practically ran over to the cash register.

Then, after he got the dog all loaded,  he stood to the side of the car, eyeing me suspiciously while I wept over the Foo Dog and shot M&Ms like they were cheap tequila.

Can you imagine the blog HE’S writing tonight?  “I thought we were going to have to call the police because the woman JUST WOULDN’T LEAVE…I think she might be an escaped mental patient.”

But I’ve got my Foo Dog in memoriam of my Peek-A-Boo dog…and here it is: 

Wordless Wednesday

Thought this pic was perfect for Wordless Wednesday

because it leaves me speechless...

 

 

 

All I'll say is yes, this is my cat.  And yes, he sits like this ALL THE TIME.

 

  It's disturbing.

 

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Some Things You Shouldn't Have To Be Told Not To Lick

Ok, this probably sounds like the start to some weird porno blog but I swear it’s not.  I just can’t stop thinking about the news article I read the other day about a warning issued by a group of doctors in Japan.  A warning about the dangers of eyeball licking.

Eyeball. Licking.

Apparently, because there are so many nerve endings in the eye, this is supposed to be some sort of intense physically stimulating experience, almost erotic.

And I don’t mean to judge (at least I don’t like other people to know I’m judgmental!), but I think that’s a little bizarre. I know I have a weird thing about eyeballs but if Opie snuggled up really close to me, took me in his arms, and whispered “Baby, I wanna lick your eyeball.” I wouldn’t know whether to laugh or throw up. Or just run screaming from the room.

But I assure you, this would not be the prelude to a romantic encounter.

In any case, the thing that really throws me about this is that doctors in the Japan and now the US have issued a warning about it.  Not just because it’s dangerous and disgusting—it is! But also because there are alarming amount of people running around sticking their tongues in other people’s eyes…enough that they felt it was in the public’s best interest to issue a warning.

Which leads me to the same questions that I had when I heard about the cane toad licking problem sweeping the nation a few years ago.

1.       Who was the first person to actually try this?

2.       How did they get other people to join in?

I mean, just as I don’t understand who looks at this:

And says “Hmmmm, I wonder if that slimy stuff on his head will get me high?”

 I don’t understand who looks at this:

 

 And says “Hmmm, I bet sticking my tongue on that would feel good.”

But even allowing that some people are a little nuts and might be willing to try just about anything, how do you convince others that it’s awesome?  “Come on, let me lick your eye.  You’ll like it!” is peer pressure that just shouldn’t work on anyone.

So, any eyelickers out there?  I'm willing to hear your side!

A Fungus Among Us

Since poop and other disgusting things seem to be the theme of this week's Humor Me Blog Hop, thought I'd share my own ewww moments...

In any case,  here’s how my morning started.  Got up, made coffee, started watering the garden and noticed this in the front yard:

 

Gross, right?  I mean, it looks like dog puke.  But this is the 3^rd time I’ve found it in the front yard in 2 weeks…and I’m pretty sure I would have noticed a strange, sick dog wandering around the neighborhood.

Besides, it LOOKS like dog puke but it doesn’t clean up like dog puke.  And yes, as a matter of fact, I do consider myself a bit of an expert on cleaning up dog puke after the unfortunate Peek-A-Boo Decides To Sample Cat Litter incident of 2010.

But I digress.

I looked it up on the internet and guess what?

It’s a fungus, not at all harmful to plants or animals, commonly called Dog Vomit Fungus.

Dog Vomit Fungus.

GROSS.

You would think THAT would be the end of my fungus issues but noooo, then I went into the backyard and found a couple of mushrooms commonly called Stinky Penis Mushrooms.

And, no, I’m not making this up. They are also referred to as Stinkhorns but the Latin name for this thing is Phallus Impudicus of the Phallacae family. How do I know?  Because the first time we found them in the yard, Opie did a Google search on them and gleefully reported the common name to me.

On a disturbing and slightly related note, when he told me this, I thought he was kidding. So I rushed in and did a search of my own…only I was in such a hurry that I just typed Stinky Penis.

I would advise against this course of action as I didn't even open any of the links but  am still emotionally scarred from the descriptions.  And I'm pretty sure I’m now on a number of government watch lists.

In any case, here they are:

 

Anyway, the 2 worst things about Stinky Penis Mushrooms--other than their disturbing appearance--are:

1.      They STINK.  I kid you not, one of these mushrooms popped up near a pile of actual dog poo and there were more flies on the mushroom. 

2.      Getting rid of them means digging down into the ground and getting the “egg spore.”  You also need to look around and dig up any other egg spores so they don’t spread…and the egg spores actually look like eggs and when you dig them up, they pop open like some foul jack-in-the-box, oozing chunks of baby mushroom.
 

So, that's my morning...and I haven't even medicated the cat yet....thinking I might just go back to bed. 

 

 

 

The Week of Peek - The Final Chapter

I'm way overdue for the final "Week of Peek" post and yet I can't bring myself to write it.  I have dozens of other stories to choose from but I can't...I guess that seems to much like really letting go, really saying goodbye.

I know some of you think "Get over it, it's just a dog."  But to me he was so much more than that...and he always will be.  So, I think instead of trying to put all that in words, I'll just end with a few of my favorite pictures:

Meeting the Prince for the first time....

 

And teaching him to scrounge for crumbs...

 

as Santa Paws

 

Hanging with the Bub...

 

The day we said goodbye.