A Quest

You may be thinking, “Enough about fleas!” But if a flea was good enough for a John Donne poem, and that poem was worthy of two days’ discussion in a sophomore English lit class…

I have discovered a bio-friendly and apparently effective way to fight fleas in the yard (which is the only way to keep the bastards out of the house). Here’s what I read online, courtesy of PETA:

Products containing beneficial nematodes (micro-organisms that eat flea larvae) can be sprayed on lawns and, unlike many toxic treatments, are perfectly safe for animals, birds, and humans, as well as “friendly” garden dwellers like earthworms and ladybugs. Brand names such as Bio Flea Halt!, Biosys, and Interrupt! can be found in pet stores and in the lawn and garden sections of hardware stores and supermarkets.

Sounds wonderful. Except that Petco, Petsmart, Home Depot, Lowe’s, and the Garden Center have no such products, and I can’t seem to find a place to order them online. Anyone familiar with these brands or know a chain that carries them?

Joys of Home Ownership, Part 2

Good thing it was a cool night last night and we have lots of fans. New central air unit: $1700 including tax and labor. But it will be installed today, and the guy who came to check things out is a responsible pet owner.

I figure the unit in Tim’s apartment is about three years behind this one in needing to be replaced. At least I know what I have to look forward to.

Tim’s and Jim’s planet

Mercury does not go retrograde until July 23, so what IS wrong with the universe? Recurring modem problems, air conditioners breaking down, computers dragging, things costing more than they should. At least R&L closed on their house and Greg got moved before that planet started messing with us.

Speaking of the universe, the moon was beautiful tonight. But no one howled.

A Disney Movie

Several years ago, when my writing partners and another couple of friends and I still frequented our chat room, I was always telling long, pointless stories about my daily life. I never realized how many of these had to do with animals until Tim one time said, “Your life is like a Disney movie.”

It is weird that I could live in the middle–not the urban sprawl–of the country’s fourth-largest city and still have so much wildlife around. The Compound is only a mile from Houston’s beautiful skyscrapers. Yet we have more than the usual pigeons and squirrels (although we have those in abundance). I see and often interact with tons of birds, opossums, racoons, an occasional escaped ferret, and of course, that boldest of urban dwellers, big fat rats. So far, not one of them has sewn me a dress, broken into cheerful song about following my dreams, or rescued me from a wicked stepmother…maybe because I forgot to have a stepmother.

The view from our dining room is a privacy fence. I hung flowers there to make it more interesting. They all died. I don’t know if it was because of our relentless sun or because the cross piece of that fence is what I call the “habi-trail.” It’s a major rat route. Nothing like sitting at the table with dinner guests and remarking, “Oh, look! A rat!” I finally filled the pots with cacti and aloe, all thriving in spite of being on the rodent highway.

Traffic on that highway has been slow lately. I think it’s because of the neighborhood bully, Yellow Cat from next door. Not only has he waged war on the rats, but he keeps beating up everyone’s house cats when he catches them outdoors. Day and night, I spot him all over the ‘hood, looking for trouble. Everybody’s talking about him–Notorious C.A.T.

I suspect his story’s ending is going to be more De Palma than Disney.

I know it’s not news…

…that I am crazy about my friend and writing partner, Timothy J. Lambert. But the last week has just reminded me again as I’ve watched him with the Big Goofy Yellow Dog now known as River. I have always called Tim “the dog whisperer” because he taught Margot and Guinness many things after taking up residence in the apartment behind our house. They are wonderful dogs anyway, but he made them even better.

So I’m not surprised by his patience and kindness with River. Or the many walks he and River have taken as Tim has tried to find River’s home and family. Or the way he scheduled River’s upcoming vet visit so we can make sure he gets or stays healthy. Or the way he’s already taught River to sit, to behave well on a leash, and to accept his crate.

Just now, the girls and I sat on the office couch, staring out the window, as Tim came outside to put fresh water in River’s bowl. And watching this big, gentle dog wag his tail and follow every move Tim made with that adoring expression unique to dogs just melted my heart.

I don’t know if River will stay with us. He may be in poor health. His other family may eventually see our “found dog” signs and call. Someone else may adopt him away from us. But I know that for whatever time River gets to stay with Tim, he’s the luckiest dog in the world.

It’s All About Tim (Again)

Today is Tim’s birthday. I thought he’d decided to turn 31, but I just read in his LJ that he’s going with the real number, 33. Which means he could be older than me soon.

The cable was down last night ALL NIGHT, so I couldn’t be online doing the usual relentless Google searches. I used the time to make his cake. After I iced/frosted it (what part of the country are YOU from?), I wanted to do the little scroll work in icing/frosting around the edges. I had some chocolate icing/frosting left over from the last cake I baked, but not enough. Then I remembered how much he loves peanut butter. I mixed the chocolate with peanut butter and–voila!–problem solved. Then I scattered Reeses Pieces over the top.

Happy you-got-peanut-butter-in-my-chocolate birthday, Tim!

Asphalt Dreams

They are repaving the road in front of my house. The dogs are not happy with the noise. But oddly, I got six hours of solid sleep in spite of the noise. Maybe because of the noise. Other than that annoying beeping when trucks back up, it’s all been a steady hum and/or roar, and I like noise when I’m sleeping.

Except music. If music–or even the TV–is playing while I’m sleeping, it makes my dreams too freaky.