Another "I Told You So" Might Be On The Horizon

Our little Pups is still here. He seems to spend a lot of time on the porch while Farmer H is gone to town. I see him prancing by with Scarlett, who always looks back to make sure he's coming. I suppose they spend time in the sun on the end of the house by our bedroom, where the southern sun lingers through the day, and two dog houses sit. Pups is still very shy, but when I baby-talk as he walks by, he stops and tilts his head, rather than running off.

The dog bowls have been scattered all willy-nilly across the side porch. Scarlett's is often missing, but Jack's metal bowl, and Pups' smaller metal bowl are there, just underfoot and out of position from where Farmer H feeds them.

Tuesday evening, Farmer H started out the kitchen door. 

"I'm going to fill that dog feeder. Then I'll know they always have food."

"Are you planning a trip?"

"No. But the food will be there, and they can all eat."

"The squirrels will be all over the place! Like when you had the feeder filled up before. That's why you stopped."

"We'll see what they do."

"You really think Scarlett is going to let the other two eat? Haven't you seen how she treats Jack? When he goes to eat out of his bowl, she runs over and shoves him away. Then he goes to her bowl, and she runs back and shoves him away. Scarlett will be the size of a hog, and Jack will be a skeleton. And that poor puppy won't get ANY food!"

"Scarlett will let that pup eat! She shoves him over to the bowl."

Well. This is something I've never seen. Farmer H has also told me that when he was trying to catch Pups the first time, over on Shackytown Boulevard, that Scarlett pinned him down with her leg so Farmer H could get to him, but Pups got away. Uh huh. I imagine Scarlett was just bullying him.

We'll see, indeed. I don't like the feeder idea, unless it's because we have to be gone for a few days, and can't find anyone to check in on the dogs.

It's Always Mrs. HM's Fault

Sunday evening, Farmer H got the container with the Big Sandwich pieces out of FRIG II, to put his supper on a plate. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, wielding the large butcher knife.

"Hey! You can't cut that while it's in my container! I've had that for years. You'll cut through the bottom."

"I can't eat this much, HM!"

"YOU are the one who told me to cut it in four pieces this time, instead of six like last time."

"It's too much!"

"That's not the point! Don't cut it while it's in the container! Set it out on a plate. And it's only too big because you told me to cut it that way!"

"Well, next time cut it in six pieces!"

Farmer H got his plate, and set out the sandwich piece to cut it in half. It's not my fault that he eats a banana while leaving the Mansion, then stops by Casey's for a couple of donuts, then eats lunch at his SUS2.5, then comes home and has a drink and chips before eating his supper. I asked him how he wanted me to divide that Big Sandwich, and HE'S the one who told me to cut it in four pieces this time, rather than six.

Farmer H never takes responsibility. He acted like I'm trying to kill him by force-feeding him to death!

No Respite From Scammers

We no longer have our landline phone. That's a story for another day. Today Mrs. HM's ire turns to scammers. You'd think there would be fewer of them without a landline, right? No more calls trying to finagle personal information out of Mrs. HM, or more likely Farmer H, though he never answered any calls. But no. There is a new source of aggravation.

EMAIL!

I don't think the 10 emails I got this morning between 7:50 and noon are related to the landline. I think they're related to our DISH service. That's the only plausible answer. Two things occurred within the past week. I ordered some vitamins from a company I have ordered from for a couple years now. They have always had my email address, and I only get emails from them, for notifications, and a newsletter that I could stop if I wanted. DISH has always had our email. No problems before with junky phishing schemes. Until...

I paid the DISH bill online. Once I finally got logged in, it occurred to me to update our account, since we no longer have the landline phone number. So I changed it to my cell number. And changed the "office" designation to the "cell" designation. Then I had the trouble with my laptop updates, and not wanting to let me access BLOGGER. In the midst of getting that sorted (how it came about is still a mystery to me!), I went back and changed the phone numbers to how they were originally. Don't worry, we can still be contacted, because Farmer H's number has been on file all along. The BLOGGER issue resolved, perhaps due to another update.

HOWEVER... I started getting a bunch of scam emails. I assume. I only opened them to see what they were. Never clicked on any links inside. I got some calling me GLORIA, as I used to get, telling me I had won something, and others wanting to give me beauty products. I had some saying thanks for subscribing to a financial newsletter, which I had not done. Some saying they could help me pay down my debt, of which I have none. Just annoying things I never asked for, and certainly don't want.

I can't think of anything else that could have triggered this recent spate of unwanted emails. Now I will be forced to unsubscribe from multiple places where I did not subscribe in the first place. 

The Capture

While Farmer H was over on Shackytown Boulevard on Wednesday evening, getting a picture of Pups, he saw an opportunity to make a grab. Pups was sitting on the porch of the Barber Shop, which in true Farmer H style had "collectibles" sitting on both ends. The Barber Shop is across from the chicken house. Farmer H was blocking Pups' path to his safe haven.

"I kept getting a little closer. He couldn't get off the other end of the porch because of the stuff in his way. I grabbed him, and he tried to bite me."

"Well, he's a PUPPY! That's his only defense. He was scared to death."

Anyhoo... I found out about this when I heard Farmer H at the kitchen door, telling me he had something for me. He walked in carrying Pups against the side of his stomach, holding him with his forearm behind Pups' front legs. Farmer H looked like he was toting a flour sack that he was about to drop.

"Bring him over here! He's so cute!"

I started baby-talking to Pups. His little white-tipped tail started to wag. That's the first time I've seen that happen! His head was silky soft. Such a sweet puppy. Scarlett was prancing around outside the kitchen door, like a nervous mother. She knew better than to step in with Farmer H there. 

Farmer H took Pups out, saying he was going to put him in Scarlett's old cage (wire kennel), even though I again said it was not a good idea. How can a puppy keep from peeing and pooping in a cage all day? Anyhoo, the kennel was not where Farmer H thought it was, so he just took Pups to the side porch, and put some food in the littlest dog bowl.

Scarlett was trying to eat the food, and Farmer H yelled at her. Dummy! A puppy does not know who he's yelling at. Pups went under the shelf against the garage, and Farmer H put his food bowl there so he could eat, while Scarlett could not reach under. Then he let Pups go in the yard, and he promptly ran over to get under the chicken house.

Thursday morning before Farmer H left the Mansion, I told him I heard Pups knocking things over on the porch. All of Farmer H's fake animals that Copper Jack's former doggy sister named Penny, a yellow lab, used to carry home with her, to be returned after several were collected. Anyhoo... Farmer H opened up the door, and in a gruff voice that he thinks is sweet, said, "Yeah, there you are!" Which scared Pup into scampering back to Shackytown Boulevard.

Pups is still here. He just walked around the porch with Scarlett to get a drink. If Farmer H can stop scaring him so much, maybe he can be handled enough to catch and take to the vet for shots. Which would again be traumatizing!

We are really trying to make a pet out of that little guy.

Another Picture Of The Unofficial Hillbilly Family Pupster

Wednesday evening, Farmer H went looking for The Unofficial Hillbilly Family Pupster over at the old chicken house. He had a slice of bread I gave him to lure Pups out of his hidey-hole.

"Don't give him more than 1/3 of the slice. He's a puppy. Don't want to clog him up. The other dogs will want some. So you can toss them some pieces too."

Well. Upon return, Farmer H reported that he was putting little pieces of bread by the edge of the chicken house, and that Pups was coming out a little farther to get them. Then Scarlett ate the piece meant for Pups' bait, and Farmer H yelled at her.

"I had to get onto Scarlett for eating his bread, and she didn't like it one bit. Then he went farther under the chicken house."

"Of course he did! When you yelled at Scarlett, you scared him! He doesn't know who you're yelling at! Now you might never get him out."

About an hour later, Farmer H suddenly got up from his recliner, and said he was going over to Shackytown Boulevard.

"I need to go unplug a wire. I don't want him to get electrocuted if he chews on it. And it looks like he's been chewing on everything."

Farmer H returned with two pictures of Pups. Here's the best one:

Farmer H had been petting Scarlett and Jack, as I suggested. Pups came out from under the chicken house, and was sitting on the porch of the Barber Shop. Look at those feet! And his chest. I think he's going to be a big dog. Still trying to guess his pedigree.

The best I can predict, Pups is a border collie mixed with a German short-haired pointer. The border collie markings are undeniable. The spots on the white parts lend themselves to the pointer. Especially with the short hair. I was trying to think of other black and white dogs with spots. Pups does not look like a cocker spaniel, nor an English setter. Those are not dalmatian spots. His ears deny heeler heritage. When I consulted my estranged BFF Google for "pointer border collie mix pup" pictures, I got the closest match to what Pups looks like.

There's more to Farmer H's Wednesday evening escapades tomorrow...

Good Deed Soundly Punished

When I paid for gas and scratchers on Thursday at the Sis-Town Casey's, the cashier tried to charge me $10 too little! I looked at her, and at my scratchers.

"Did you maybe forget one? Because I thought it was going to be more."

She looked at the register. I guess at the list of items, which had started out with a $25 pre-pay for T-Hoe's gas.

"Oh. I see it. Thank you for telling me! I messed it up."

"I wanted to make sure. I don't want to cheat anybody. That would be bad luck!"

Off I went to pump the gas, mentally patting myself on the back for being such a fine upstanding citizen. Surely The Universe would reward me. But NO! My scratchers from assorted stores only had ONE winner, and it was for $10. Not only that, but my Country Mart shopping experience was less than rewarding.

The checker gal put too many heavy items in the same bags! I had four bags total. She put three Sister Schubert's Rolls in one bag. Manageable. And two boxes of Stove Top Stuffing in one bag. Too light. Then a BIG SANDWICH and eight bananas in the same bag. HEAVY, and the bananas squished my BIG SANDWICH! Then she put put two jars of mayonnaise in with a can of black olives, a large jar of green olives, and a jar of sweet and sour sauce. WAY HEAVY.

In fact, as I was trying to lift it over the check-writing shelf to get it into my cart, I said, "That's too heavy!" I took me three tries, while she watched. Clueless!

Once I wheeled my cart/walker to T-Hoe, I used spare bags I keep there for just that purpose, to take out the bananas, and the mayo, for their own separate bags.

Farmer H Finds A Clue

Don't get all excited. Farmer H is NOT learning how to live life without me telling him to breathe in/breathe out, or proper handwashing hygiene, or how to respect boundaries. Nope. The clue he found relates to yesterday's tale, about where Scarlett and Jack might be when I don't see them here. Which is most likely related to The Unofficial Hillbilly Family Pupster. Yeah. This little guy:

Farmer H came home midday on Tuesday. Of course scaring one of my (apparent) nine lives out of me.

"I just came home to see your little dog, and get something I need from the BARn. Then I'm going back to town for my doctor's appointment."

"Well, I haven't seen him today, and it's already 1:00. He's usually been up on the porch by now."

Farmer H went outside, and when he returned, he said, "Oh, he's definitely living here. When I started out, he was sitting on the porch of one of my sheds. He ran under the old chicken house. You can see where the other dogs have been digging, trying to get under there. Also, there's a lot of stuff in the field by the BARn that looks like a pup got ahold of it. And I found Scarlett's food bowl, all chewed on."

"I thought it was metal."

"No. Hers it the big black plastic one. Jack's is the smaller metal one. And that little blue one with paw prints is under the shelf."

"You need to get some puppy-wormer. And we'll have to get him puppy shots."

"First we'll have to catch him! He don't wanna come out."

Farmer H was leaving later on Wednesday morning, to pick up some prescriptions when the pharmacy opened. "I'm going over to the BARn before I leave."

"Take a handful of food to put by the chicken house. So I know at least he gets something to eat today."

"I think Scarlett's been bringing him up on the porch to eat and drink."

"She DOES like to herd him around. But I don't know if there's always food left over here."

Farmer H came back inside before leaving. "I took that little bowl of food over there. He wouldn't come out. But while I was in the BARn, he ate it all. Them other two wasn't around, but they're out on the porch now, eating their food."

"You need to put fresh cedar shavings in the dog houses."

"I just did that, last time you told me to."

"Um. It's been summer. They don't sleep in the houses in the summer. So I guess you 'just did it' about 6 or 8 months ago. So now it's time for some fresh shavings."

"I guess he'll come out. If I leave food there, maybe he'll feel like he belongs here. We might have to get him out and keep him in that cage Scarlett came in."

"Oh, then he'll really feel at home! If the first thing you do is close him in a cage!"

"Well, you know. Just a place where we can feed and water him until he's ready to stay."

"I'd rather you sit out there and pet Scarlett and Jack, and maybe he'll come out."

We'll see what happens. At least Pupsie will get food once a day. Farmer H said he's going to take more food over to the chicken house tonight. Because a puppy usually eats more than once a day. Pretty sure he's a stray, if he's so afraid of people.

Farmer H argues that it's a mile down to the mailboxes, where people notoriously dump their "pets." He says Scarlett and Jack rarely go that far. Well. They do when Scarlett chases after him in SilverRedO. Also, that pup could have been wandering up the road and seen them halfway.

At least he's not down by the mailboxes, crying and hungry.