Good Monday morning! Remember I promised you every thing I tell you is true? Remember I have no need to make this stuff up because it really happens?
Well, just the other night when I was typing the blog for you to read in the morning, it happened again. Something I knew you'd get a laugh out of happened right then and there. Here's the scoop.
As I said, I was typing away for you to have a funny postcard from the farm to read with your morning coffee. Not my Coffee the guard dog, your coffee that you drink. Don't want to get the two confused. You'll understand in a minute.
Rat a tat tat my fingers are flying away on my computer keyboard. When I got my degree in journalism, we still had to use electric typewriters and take a typing test to enroll in upper level classes. Yes, there were computers. I'm not that dadgum old!
As students we even lobbied not to use typewriters. This was a big university and a top ten College of Journalism. We didn't need no stinkin' typewriters! But, good ol' Dr. Brown, who was a real son of a gun, said, "You may end-up at some small town paper that doesn't have computers. You need to learn to use a typewriter." So, when I type, I'm fast. It may account for some of my mistakes you see. Anyway, I digress.
Rat a tat tat my fingers are flying. I'm telling you a funny one! I'm starting to giggle, too. Then, I hear something. I'm in my study in the living quarters of the people barn. But, I have ears like a dog. I hear everything.
At the time, I was surrounded by three other sets of dog ears. I looked around to see if Coffee, Killer, and Spot were alert. Usually if I hear it, they hear it. Or, vice versa. It's hard to sneak up on us. I like it like that. Alas, my dog ears were the only ones on the alert. The others were snoozing on the floor. I kept listening.
My friend from high school, Miss NRA, is getting excited reading this. She thinks I got to whip out my grandfather's pistol. Nope, sorry Miss NRA. No shootin' went on this night. Maybe another day. Don't lose hope. We'll get 'em!
Anyway, I kept hearing a high pitched screeching. I thought I heard a car pull up and cut off. Turns out that was at my neighbors. I know because I woke the dogs up and we went outside.
The sound was like a child or a woman screaming in a very high pitch, but not exactly. Once we're outside, everyone is on the alert. The noise is coming from the back of the people barn. My study is on the opposite end of the people barn. I told you I have dog ears.
We head down the sidewalk of the people barn and past the tack room door. Through the gate and past the cross ties where the horses are tied up at lesson time. Noise is louder. It's Sasha! But, I couldn't see her. The flood lights weren't on back there. I wasn't to the switch yet. Huh?
The flood lights at the back of the people barn turn on outside. Why is the switch outside? Because in the winter, it invariably gets dark before I'm finished teaching a lesson. I'd rather the parents or one of my farm hands just flip the light on right there at the cross ties rather than go rummaging through my living quarters. Besides, Spot likes his privacy. It's unwise to bust in on 70 lbs of extra large dalmatian that doesn't like strangers. Sorry, I digress so easily when I'm tired.
I get to the light switch and flip it on. Killer and Coffee are way ahead of me. They took off as soon as we rounded the corner. They were on the hunt. Sasha was under a foot stool to my patio furniture. She looked stunned. Then, I got a whiff of it. Tom cat urine.
Sasha, who loves to flirt with anything male, had attracted a tom cat. Sasha! This is what you get when you swish your tail at everything male! You get some sort of Spring Freak Tom Cat!
Thankfully, Sasha is "fixed." And, yes, she has all of her claws and knows how to use them. Just try to give her a pill if you don't believe me.
Sasha looks fine, but stunned. I leave her under the foot stool. Spot and I round the far corner of the people barn. Coffee and Killer are way ahead of us. Spot is about twelve feet in front of me. Someone has to stay behind and guard "Mom" after all.
Coffee and Killer have rushed through Shadow and Speakeasy's paddock and back out under the fence on the far side. They are at the back perimeter fence before you can say, "Jackrabbit!"
There is a big ruckus at the back fence line. There's rustling of leaves. There's big barking and growling. I'm starting to get worried. That tom cat got more than he bargained for when he started spraying and talking dirty to Sasha.
That tom cat didn't know Sasha had two super aggressive guard dogs as siblings. Not to mention one back-up dalmatian and a "Mama" with a pistol. Nope, ol' tom got more than he bargained for! I didn't have the pistol with me folks. Relax. I didn't shoot ol' tom.
By this time, Speakeasy and Shadow are in on it. They are racing around their paddock snorting and fussing. Tom best not head back through that paddock. He'll get squished!
I call for Coffee and Killer. I don't want pieces of tom cat every where. Remember, I have to clean that stuff up. It was getting late. I hadn't had dinner or a glass of wine. I didn't want to scoop up tom cat guts. Believe me.
Killer is the most obedient dog ever known to cowgirl kind. Killer leaves the pursuit and comes toward me and Spot. Spot has never left me. Spot is guarding me. I told you he's completely devoted to me.
Coffee is another matter. When Coffee gets the scent of an interloper, forget it. She's not letting you get away. Coffee is a Chow after all. Under that flat lab mix coat, Coffee is all Chow.
Just ask Doc. He'll tell you. Chows are domineering guard dogs. They were bred to guard the Emperors of China. He'll also tell you most Chows boss their owners around. Chows need a firm and confident leader. Coffee has one. Doc likes that. It means Coffee behaves herself when she's at his office. I take it a lot of Chows don't. Doc doesn't suffer ill behaved animals gladly.
Anyway, I have to call Coffee again, after Killer has come off the tom cat. Coffee isn't going to let this fella get away. She's ready to head under that fence. I call her the second time strongly. She really doesn't want to give up. She wants to give ol' tom what he deserves. "Talking dirty and spraying around my Sasha! I'll show you!" I'm sure that's what those growls meant.
Third time I call her, Coffee comes off the tom cat. The third time I call a dog of mine, he or she has absolutely no doubt they better get to me now. And, I mean right now. I'm the head of this herd. Get over here.
Coffee comes tearing over to me. She is all a quiver with adrenaline. She's panting. She's so excited. I wish I could let her finish what tom started, but I can't.
They all come back around the people barn with me. Shadow and Speakeasy are still disgruntled. But, by the time we turn off the flood lights, they are starting to calm down. Sasha is no longer under the foot stool. Good.
Whew! That smell! Tom has sprayed back by the cross ties. That'll be fun for lessons in the morning. Damn tom cat. Maybe I should've let Coffee have her way with him?
We head to the horse barn where Sasha has her own stall. Sasha is waiting for us behind the recycling bins. "Sasha, that's what you get. You can't flirt with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. This isn't the breeder's cattery where they are all in cages. This is the real world. You aren't in the Queening Room any more, sweetheart."
The Queening Room is the room in a cattery where the breeder keeps the female breeding cats. Sasha still thinks she's a queen because of it. Sasha is a retired breeding cat.
I close the side door of the barn completely. I always lock the big doors, but the side door I usually leave cracked for Sasha. She stays out late. I don't want her to be unable to get inside. I'm a softy, I know.
The dogs and I head back inside to finish your postcard. We get in the foyer between the business side of the people barn and my living quarters. In that small space I realize either Coffee or Killer has been sprayed. Oh crap!
I know it's not Spot since he never left his position guarding me. So, I put him in my quarters. No need to let him get contaminated in the post-hunting excitement.
I come back in the foyer and notice wet paw prints. Ok, someone walked through tom cat pee. Great. I start feeling paws. Of course, it's Coffee who got it. Ol' tom took a parting shot at her.
No wonder it took me three calls to get her. She wasn't going to let tom cat get away with spraying her! No sir! She was going to tear him limb from limb. Literally. That's why I called her off.
"Ok, Coffee, I see you had good reason. I'm sorry I didn't let you finish him." Not really, but I'm trying to make her feel better.
I feel Killer's paws. Nothing. Poor Coffee is the only one who seems to have taken a direct hit.
I go back inside and get Clorox wipes. This is serious stink. I wipe down Coffee's paws. I wipe down Killer's too, because by this time, he'd walked through Coffee's tracks of tom cat pee. I wipe down the foyer floor. Please let that kill the stink.
As I'm sanitizing everyone, I see Sinatra through the french door to my quarters. He's sniffing at the threshold with a disgusted look on his face. I know Sinatra. It's tom cat pee. "Geez! You can get neutered and take care of that stench. Doesn't every cat know that?" I know Sinatra, I know. I'm cleaning it up.
Sinatra saunters off. He's smelled quite enough. Tom cat pee and dogs. Yuck! He's leaving. Back to his pillow on the leather sofa.
Now, poor Coffee and Killer will have to go to bed early. They live in the horse barn since they are guard dogs. I can't let them come watch tv with me and Spot tonight. I don't want my entire living area to smell like tom cat. Sorry guys.
Back in the horse barn, Bun-Bun the rabbit is hoping animatedly in his hutch. He wants to know what all of the excitement is about. It dawns on me tom may come back. We can't let Bun-Bun be a sitting duck...or rabbit, rather.
Come on guys, let's go close all the barn windows. We don't want ol' tom coming through a window when he can't get in a door. Coffee, Killer, and I walk around the barn closing all of the dutch windows. I get to Chief's and he turns around.
Chief is restless enough being inside all night. Closing his window makes him near stir crazy. Ok, Chief. I won't close your window. But, if ol' tom comes through your stall, you stomp him, ok? He's a trouble maker.
Ok. Chief agrees. Chief is just glad I'm calling someone else trouble maker tonight. That's what I usually call him--that or Fat Head. Chief has a really big head.
Finally, barn windows closed. Barn doors already locked. Sasha lectured again. Killer and Coffee tucked in. I'm tired. And, I still need to finish your postcard.
But, I am reassured. Coffee and Killer spend a lot of time harassing Sasha every day. Coffee in particular likes to chase Sasha and bark at her.
Coffee believes all cats belong inside. She's herding Sasha back to where she thinks cats belong. Don't worry about Sasha, though. Sasha will swat Coffee with those claws if she gets too close.
Like any parent of siblings who try to kill each other on a daily basis, I am glad to see that, when it counts, Coffee and Killer will protect Sasha from a tom cat. It's probably not quite that noble, but it has the same effect. Family protects family.
Sasha may be a crafty wench, but damnit, she's Coffee and Killer's crafty wench! Now, ol' tom, get outside of our fence and stay there!
By-the-way, today is Spot's birthday. He's 13. That's 91 in people years. He's holding up ok for such an old guy. Drink a toast to him with your coffee. Remember, your coffee, not mine. My Coffee will get ya! Just ask ol' tom cat!
Have a good Monday, folks! Thanks for reading!
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