Sorry for the silence; I've been a bit, um,
preoccupied this week. But before that mountain loomed, I solved a little mystery. Remember the
"stingy dahlia" (cleverly labeled by commenter Lisa)? I was enjoying every day of that magnificent flower, so was taken aback when it was completely GONE Sunday morning. I walked over to investigate and observed the clues.
"Crumbs" dropped from a greedy mouth:
A stem frayed by foraging:
A path trodden through the patch, and another stem damaged in passing:
A telltale hoofprint:
Apparently some dahlias ARE palatable to "meadow rats" – so maybe that dahlia is
tasty, not
stingy!
While dealing with my "mustang mountain," a midget-sized drama was also playing out at work (my Instagram followers got a sneak peak of this). My boss became responsible for a client's dog a month ago when the client had to be hospitalized and then moved into a care facility. The dog has been in a foster home during that time, but the snow-bird foster mom leaves for California this weekend, so the need for a permanent home was becoming critical. My boss asked me to network; I was confident that placing the dog would be easy. Ha. We finally came to the conclusion that the local no-kill shelter was the only option, but couldn't tell the foster mom that. (She
loves the little dog, but one of her dogs has taken the opposite stance, causing a stalemate.) So I picked up the dog from the tearful foster mom on Tuesday, and had an appointment to take it to the shelter on Wednesday.
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Guess who's still here?
Meet Dicey, a six-pound, brindle, long-haired chihuahua. She is the tiniest canine I have ever been around, more like having a mouse in the house than a dog. I guess we are her new foster family until we can find her a home of her own. Jackson and Dozer have been great about our minute guest, and Brian enjoys having a study partner.
Theresa, I think we need to find her a ride south to Camp Runamuck!
I think that catches things up for now at . . .
