ilili is taking more than the spotlight away from Zazoo or...

..."Mommy, Mommy, look what I have!"

I just told Dominic two days ago that my kids have been good. Zaz hasn't killed anything in ages. And I felt like I wanted to suck it back in after I said it.

We had just done our dinner walk and I let him off the leash in the garden, noticing no critters on the ground. I went in to get mini-monkey and as we came through the door Zazoo was sitting in an odd place for him. I noticed something grey between his legs. Another friend of Bullwinkles. Dammit.

I dropped ilili's leash and went to the barn for a shovel. I know the drill. Zaz was throwing Rockie in the air and apparently she caught it for she raced around the garden with Rockie in her little mouth and Zazoo at her heels.

She wouldn't drop him so I turned on the faucet and grabbed the hose. Worked like a charm; she dropped it and I washed her down. I tied her to the picket fence so she couldn't get Rockie and I disposed of the poor creature.

Upstairs I had no mercy for her while I used the hair dryer without diffuser to dry her expediently. I didn't want her to catch her death. But let's see if she gets worms.

Oh, a mama's work is never done.

What is God trying to teach me or...

...

...

From an email to my friend Dianne in NY,

On Thu, Oct 6, 2011 at 1:32 PM, Zazoo's Mama wrote:

> This was written yesterday afternoon as I sat at the Marmara pool for a few hours. I had a great burger and had a chance to relax before a hamam scrub.
>
>
> > What's the lesson/s?
> >
> > I had a hot, damp, mosquito-chomping summer in Orienta. Repetitive, monotonous. Not making money didn't help. Lots of work with two dogs and a house and yard to keep clean.
> >
> > Meetings weren't doing it. I tried to connect with the women. Some are nice; others cold as ice. No wonder most of them are alone.
> >
> > My sweetie in Ist is in my heart but a million miles away.
> >
> > Zazoo killed many creatures and it's hard to deal with. He also thinks small cars on tight, narrow streets have to be lunged at and barked at. The dog commander helped a bit but...a lot of stress.
> >
> > No real friends. I feel like I'm settling. My happy, silly self has gone on vacation without me.
> >
> > Stomach has been upset for weeks. I think I'm eating right, taking supplements, some yoga and stressful dog walks. Monotony. Finally saw a doctor who ordered three vials of blood drawn and said it sounds like I'm depressed. I say no but I'm truly overwhelmed and unhappy. So I started Prozac last weekend. Let's see what happens. It can only get better.
> >
> > I try to keep a positive outlook. I'm telling others to look for the bright side and I can't stand their constant complaints. It's contagious. They should be shot.
> >
> > So my whiney long-time friend decides to fly with me to Ist. After she bought the ticket, she regretted it and whined. And whined. I should have told her to stay home. I thought it would be good for her because she was so miserable and needed it.
> Do I think I'm God? 
>
> > She's manic. One minute happy, the next, miserable. I can't be around it. Toxic. Every event was a big drama to her and she whined. And said she was going to leave. One day it was the Turkish beach, but no one wanted to see here there. Another day it was Paris. Another day London, then Dubai, then beirut, then Spain. Oy vey. And then she had a clown look on her face and told me she was happy. She was trying ro convince herself. 
> >
> > We spent way too much time looking for and obtaining housing coz she doesn't think she deserves the best and she's cheap. I'm on a limited budget but I can usually be happy anywhere. And she complained about everything during manic episodes.  Her dad told her not to worry about spending money. He was covering it. But still so cheap. I wish I had a credit card that worked. I would have left her where she was the first night.
> >
> > The man of my dreams was called out of town on assignment and he won't turn back till the weekend. I was looking forward to being with him, not her. God, I miss him. I was looking forward to his warmth and smile. And feeling his arms around me.
> >
> > The dog sitter quit after a few days. The replacement is having a difficult time. I'm neglecting my pets. I'm on the morning flight.
> >
> > I got no work done. I don't know what happened. People flaked. I was in no mood to shoot anything for docu. One dear friend spent an afternoon with me. That was grand. It was great to see how he has grown into a responsible, important man.
> >
> > I can't feel sorry for myself. Not my style. So...
> >
> > What have I learned?  Never travel with anyone who's unstable. Or crazier than I am. Why was I so insecure about going to see my sweetie? I should go alone, as much as it sounds like it sucks, because I've done it before and liked it. And ask God to help when credit cards can't.
> >
> > Self- reliance has to be dug out of the closet. I had wanted ro go much earlier but didn't have the resources. Perseverance has to be relied upon until I get my wishes. God listens. As you will see.
>
> This update is after relaxing yet invigorating hamam. I'm on the plane now.  I felt good as the brisk night air engulfed my tingling face as I emerged from the hotel into the teeming street.   I felt better already and I realized I was walking taller and had the bounce back in my step. I let go of the fact that I wasn't going to see my sweetie. God, I missed him. And I missed Zazoo.
>
> It would have been selfish to stay and wait. I had to get back to care for my children.
>
> I didn't have much time to get souvenirs and a pair of Mavi jeans. These Turkish jeans have the best fit ever. I also bought a couple of pastries for later.
>
> When I got to the flat, some Lebanese girls were waiting for the capogi, a doorman of sorts, to let them in. I had to speak to him about arranging a taxi to the airport. I thought I would wait on the street and look into all the bars and cafes that lined this pedestrian-only street with tables and chairs. I wandered back and all of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye I see the side and back of this guy walking away from me, about 15 feet from me.
>
> "Hey!" then, "Mustafa!" It wasn't a dream. He turned. It was him! Like a dream. Yes, just like a dream.  We ran into each others arms just like in the movies. Such a warm embrace. Such smiling eyes.
>
> He explained that when he received my SMS about having to turn back to NY, he left the location to come back to Istanbul to see me, however briefly. His phone isn't open for any international service so he couldn't call or SMS me. He was on his way home to email and Facebook message me. God is good. Allah aukbar! We had a great time visiting for a couple of hours in an outdoor cafe. We caught up on each others lives, our friends lives, what the future may hold and laughed. It felt good. I hadn't laughed since the first day in Istanbul because Madama Contrario had too many episodes. I must pray that she gets to a shrink.
>
> Ok, so back to the title. Patience, let go and let God. It was meant to be this way. And I should remember this for the next situation which are the dogs.
>
> Just before the gorgeous Mustafa appeared, the new dog sitter texted me about a police notice that someone had complained about the dogs barking. She wanted to go down to the police station but I told her to stay put. Uff. I get anxious just thinking about this. It will be ok. The dogs will be ok. I will be ok. God watches over me. And them. God is good.
> >
>
> Eta JFK one hour. I have Mustafa in my heart and soon my babies in my arms.
> >
> > Sent from my iPhone

I know recall how tough life can be in a third world, emerging country or...

...is it ao bad to live in NY and count my blessings? The search goes on. Here's a copy of an email send to my NY friend just now.

Hi Dianne,

I had a good flight. Some turbulence on the ground for housing but we found a reasonable place in the center. It was a block away from a club so it was noisy all night. Could hear a pin drop In the daytime but...

Between an oil delivery at one AM, constant scooters ripping past, drink men yelling in the street and street dogs woofing occasionally at ignorant passers-by, I think I had three hours sleep.

After two sleepless nights, our reservation for flat rental was ready. The guy was unreliable with timing and when we finally arrived at the appointed time, it was not to our liking. At all. Dark, dingy, dirty area to say the least.

We had looked at another flat that was also totally misrepresented. Hotel rates have sky-rocketed 35% in the last year in Istanbul and the locals are trying to jump on the booming economic bandwagon.

Back to the drawing boards to find a place to stay. We stumbled upon a new hotel that was really lovely but pricey. After a discussion with the manager, he told us about some apart/hotels they owned. So we schlepped with the pudgy doorman to see a couple of them. Brand new, clean, elegant. Nice. So we schlepped back to discuss price. A deal was made. Then we schlepped back to the first hotel with Mr. Pudge, who was gentle, filled a taxi with all the bags and all of us and drove through the tiny congested streets to the new spot. Except cars aren't allowed. Pedestrians only. So we schlepped, with poor Mr. Pudge huffing and puffing with the weight of the bags that weren't on wheels. Then we climbed up one flight to the elevator that took us to the third floor.

Two marble baths, efficeincy kitchen with washer, air-conditioning, one large bedroom and living room with balcony. Flat screen tv with satellite, on and off Internet reception but much more quiet than the other spot. At least I didn't feel the bass drum beat throbbing through me all night long. Minor noise was bearable at this point.

One observation: I still don't do noise well and that's why I chose to live in the country.

I'll tell you about the mobile phone debacle and the sissy Mary dog sitter who is quitting in another post.

God bless Turkey!

Sent from my iPhone

The eagle has landed or...

...how to have a coffee and nosh in Istanbul.

This is the way it's done here. Outdoor cafes are the norm, not the exception. Decompressing after 10 hour flight in Turkish Airlines new comfort class. Pretty nice overall but seats not built for sleeping. I managed to sleep about six hours and feel fine, especially sitting in this marvelous, vibrant city, but old Tripolina only caught a few winks.

Photo at Marmara Taxim Hotel, Kitchenette.

Woohoo! On my way to Ist or...

...what a long, strange trip it's been.

Tripolina and I made it to JFK tonight and we are now pulling out of the gate! Hooray! I can't wait! Clips for docu to follow.

Is Bullwinkle gonna be pissed or...

...how to get the express breakfast.

The sun didn't break over the Orienta horizon yet. I tossed on a windbraker as I walked the yard first and then came back to let out good old Mr. Zazoo this morning. I went in to prepare ilili's food, then serve it while the coffee was brewing and the milk was warming in the micro. Ah, nice, hot, magnificent smelling coffee, first thing!

So I brought the coffee upstairs to the bath and was just about to take a sip when I glanced out the window to see Zazoo. I just like to look at him and admire his beauty.

But he wasn't near the humongous oak. I looked to the end of the yard. No Zazoo. Damn, dis he jump the brick wall this early? I sucked a long sip but didnt taste it and ran back down the stairs. I looked out the den window to see him sitting in an unnatural spot for him. His head was in an awkward position.
"Dammit!" he has something. I barked out orders to the sleeping Jewel and he followed me into the yard. He got the shovel and I turned on the hose. Zaz had a grey squirrel that he wasn't about to give it up easily. We chased him with the poor squirrel dangling out of his mouth, back to the house where the hose would reach him. I put my thumb on the nozzle to make the stream forceful and let him have it until he surrendered. He finally relented.

I told the Jewel to shovel up Rocky J. While I washed off Zaz's beard, ears and paws. Rocky joined the Wabbit from earlier this week apparently because the Jewel didn't look into the bin but said it reeked. the bin boys are gonna love me! Note to self: Big fat envelope.

Another note ro self: figure out how/why these animals must come into our garden when they know the "King of the Jungle" is on patrol. This thought might keep me busy on the long flight to Istanbul. Or will it? You be the judge.

On the midnight train to Georgia or...I'm really on my way back to Istanbul!!!

I'm less than 48 hours away from touchdown in Old Stamboul.  Hooray!  Can't wait to get back.  I miss the diverse culture, the vibrancy of an electric, magical city, the delicious food and, of course, the hot men.

Aside from their physical beauty, they have an inner beauty, a glow I just fail to see in the American men. I believe it's due to the fact that they sold out to capitalism.  They're just into life for the money; they can't enjoy anything. Miserable sorts. And they eat crap. Anyway..

Tripolina's probably going to join me and we'll start the rough out for the documentary as I schlep through my adopted city and you'll get to see it through my eyes.  Not the top 10 tourist spots that every idiot puts on their show, but the real Istanbul.

And I can't wait to see all my friends; cherished ones, business ones, casual acquaintances, and all the new friends I'll make.  And my FHBHDKIY :)

Allah Akbar.

the next time Zazoo bags a critter...

Are these varmints as dumb as they look or...

...are they exacting their revenge appropriately?

Case in point: Mr. Zazoo has killed copious amounts of non-domesticated critters this season in Orienta. He got another jack rabbit last night.

It had rained heavily all day. I asked the Jewel to contact Noah for the ark blueprints. He said the Nazi's got his Granddad Noah, so there wouldn't be any plans.

It let up around dinnertime, so I fed and marched Zaz. Good thing I wore me Wellies. We waded through streams that were once sidewalks. So it wasn't raining when we returned to the cottage and I left him in the garden. I went about some business in the house and glanced up to see what he doing at dusk. Usually he sits like the Spinx on his elbows in the hopes of a stupid squirrel or skunk walking into his domain. He was jumping around in the way that I knew meant trouble. He had something!

I ran out to see it was another big ol' jack rabbit and he wouldn't drop it. I grabbed the garden hose, put my thumb over the nozzle and let him have it. Mostly to wash his face and ears off and partly to force him to give up the poor dead bunny.

Worked like a charm and trotted him in.

I called Nazi Karl with a K, he promptly drove in the again pissing rain to drop said bunny in his final resting place. (the bin.)

Ok, so what's their revenge? Zazoo had tapeworms a couple of weeks ago and the vet said it was either from flea infestation or varmints. No sign of fleas. You do the math. So, who's the dumb one?

ilili's first book.

I'm ilili's Mama, too.  I just created her first photo book.

Click here to view this photo book larger

Zazoo made the local news or...

...do you actually have to bite someone that smells like a French whore in the subway to get notoriety?

I showed the house Sunday. The real estate agent didn't listen to her client. Apparently he said "no stairs" because his ancient dad couldn't climb them. There are 4 sets altogether here. I was obviously annoyed that she wasted my time. I told them to wait in the entry hall while I collared Zaz and held him way into the garden but the man exclaimed,"we love dogs. No need.".

Against my better judgment, I didn't restrain him. When the man walked out, Zaz and silly ilili greeted him with tails a wagging. But when the old biddy came out he was pissed and barked. And barked. She must have tensed up and Zaz couldn't get a sense of what she was about because she reeked and nipped at her. I tried to get between them but the agent wasn't paying attention to me as I barked out commands. Good ol' Zaz was just doing his job trying to protect me from what he perceived as a mortal threat. Good doggy!

So the moral of the story is this: ladies, if you're brave enough to visit, please don't smell like a cheap French whore in the subway.

PS. Black Hawk's owner is more concerned that Zazoo will get cooties from her!

http://larchmont.patch.com/articles/police-blotter-family-feud-in-grocery-store-parking-lot-vengeful-dog-and-disappointed-burglers

Pricker bushes strike again or...

...the reoccurring nightmare breathes again.

I told Dominick, my Papa, Friday night as I cut down pricker bushes that hung into the road from the bush across the street, that I clearly remember the nightmares removing them from Zazoo One all those years ago. He ran free in the Armonk woods and would occasionally, and way to often, return with these damn dried pricker flowers imbedded in his long dark fur. It took hours, sometimes all night to comb them out. Poor thing even had to have them clipped out professionally on a couple of occasions.

So I'd be damned if it happens now and I'm sooo careful with Zazoo Two that I made a pre-emotive strike and obliterated them from in front of the property.

So this morning, within 48 hours, silly ilili snuck under the fence and returned covered in prickers! She must have been stuck in the bush. The poor little girl was covered. Oh boy! Thank God she has fuzz and not a flowing coat. I combed them out and twenty minutes later she was good as new and loved the attention of a thorough combing. She's such a joy: so lovely, so light of heart and gay. What a blessing to have these wonderful dogs in my life!

Now ro go back out with shears and hunt down the nasty bush.

Rabid forest animals attacking domestic pets or...

...are Mr. Zazoo and miss ilili safe in these here burbs?

Damn, child, I'm so glad when Zaz had the ah, altercation with the skunks, the trapper told me to get him to the good Dr. Vierra for a rabies booster.

I didn't actually see if Zaz pounced on them or they came up behind him and attacked him! Mercy.

Here's the story so please read if you're in the 'burbs. http://larchmont.patch.com/articles/westchester-county-health-department-issues-rabies-alert

Life in a small town or...

...thank God it's only this sort of thing.

From this morning's police blotter:

7:55 a.m. – A homeowner on Orienta Avenue came outside to find a strange man curled up sleeping on his porch. Police arrived to take the man home to his own bed.


And we wonder why our taxes are preposterous?

3:20 p.m. – A snapping turtle who lost it’s way was discovered on a boat ramp at Harbor Island Park. Although a local trapper was unable to transport the animal, police kept watch until the turtle eventually found it’s way back into the water.

Who said we're having a recession or depression?

8:01 p.m. – A person driving a 2008 Land Rover and backing out of a spot in front of 322 Mamaroneck Ave., struck a 2006 Porsche that was stuck in traffic. The person driving the Land Rover left the scene; there were no injuries.

Well, perhaps we are. Older model vehicles.

And what about this: 6:05 p.m. – An ambulance driver struck a stone wall on Greacen Point Road when he made a sharp right turn out of a driveway. The right side of the ambulance and a side mirror were damaged.

This road near me has a home on the Market for 13 million usd. No joke.

http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS-usYriNfBayuLYxYBKEIGCXSoVDB9mBFgHReVyIb3lm1um1M9

Miss ilili in her new schmatah or...

...am I trying to gild the lily?

Miss ILILI

Lunch at the Delamar or..

...Tripolina and I have a good laugh on our way to a summertime waterside luncheon.  Check out the sign on the dumpster. If you don't get it, kindly ask. 

The atmosphere was lovely on a sunny summer day as we sat on the deck overlooking the bay with all the waspy lovelies in posh Greenwich, CT.  A beautiful menu was presented but I had to try a burger. Look at pic and you'll see why. Absolutely delicious. Trip's lobster salad sandwich, pictured in the background, was great too.  Ah , lovely to live in Westchestah!

Rockin' at the Ritz or...

...how much of this bloody hurricane and the aftermath must I be forced to watch on the telly 'till I crack?

I'm sure by now you've been inundated with the coverage. It was as bad as it was portrayed, in my opinion, and I don't think the authorities or the media hyped it. Dozens of people are dead and there's widespread flooding and devastation in many states.

I saw a mess coming early last week so I made plans to take the Afghans to high ground with generators. Where else but the local Ritz Carlton? Decadent you might think, but they're one of the few hotels in these burbs that accommodates four-legged guests under 50 pounds. Zazoo just passed the weight limit but no one asked. It was crazy-frenetic when we arrived noontime Saturday. It had rained earlier and it was hot and humid when a friend loaded up her car. Zaz, ilili in her crate, several milk crates with dog food and supplies, my wellies and slicker a duffle of my personals and a bag of laptop, iPad, wires and cables all on a trolly, sat in the crowded lobby as I tried to check in. Ilili screamed in monkey voice as I moved away from her. Reception was quick, thanks to ilili, and soon we were all in a lovely room...But it's still a room, not a house.

I was mesmerized by the coverage and saddened by the early reports of devastation but slept an hour or so before dawn on Sunday to anticipate Irene touching down at Coney Island at 9 AM. Well, she did, right on schedule. I went down to the lobby a few times to watch the winds blow and talk to door personnel. No other guests were around. Did they not care? How could one sleep in during an epic storm? The wind ripped past the porte cochere and whistled through the doors when closed. I didn't see any debris or people flying by; just incredible sideways rain that pounded the air.

Exhausted as I was, I had to experience it live. Incredible! It's hard to put into words...the swirl of the wind moving the rain. The rain pelting sideways. The young trees near the hotel not swaying but being forcibly pushed to breaking point as their tops went horizontal. I didn't dare venture out. Even when the rain let up a bit. Some brave retriever owners, men, of course, braved the elements with a dumb look, a shrug, and, "he has to go." The hell he does. I brought wee wee pads. "Common sense ain't so common," as the old Jewish man once said.

When it got down to a dull roar I took Mr. Zazoo out for a round the block. That didn't happen. The winds were still too strong, so he piddled in front of the building on their precious little flowers. Oh, well. He wanted to be brave but the wind pushed us back.

Here are some sea grass that usually point to the heavens.  

we tried again a bit later.  I was a little scared as we turned a bend and I felt my feet trying to move forward, but I wasn't moving.  Either was he as I held his collar so we would stay together if one of us was swept away.  I was that frightened.  Now I laugh about it, but it was scary.

Jumpin'Jahosephats or...

...don't EVER say to the Jewel, or anyone, "I don't have any material."  A few hours after my prolific statement, the little rascals were at it again.

The Jewel and I were about five hours into a photo shoot yesterday. The weather has been nice so I let Mr. Zaz into the garden.  I must say, he's been a peach lately and ilili has been the trouble maker. I didn't check on him for at least an hour. Actually, I was totally immersed in my work. Then it dawned on me to glance out the den windows. Well, no Zazoo. Ok, sometimes he's hidden. I went to another window, then another.

Boots came off, slippers on and I told the Jewel to "man the engines," which means to start the car and I ran through the garden just to be sure he wasn't hiding. I wasn't in panic mode yet as I called his name. There wasn't a breach in the fence. WTF? I looked up and saw an exhausted Zazoo, with his head down and tongue drooping low in the neighbors yard. Son of a bitch.

I told Al to kill the engines and we jumped over the brick wall with a bottle of water, a plastic container to quench his thirst and treats in case I had to bribe him. Poor Zazoo came right to us and lapped up copious amounts of water as I pulled twigs, rose bush branches and Larchmont tree pods out out of his dense fur.

Poor Zazoo must have sprinted over the wall in pursue of his dinner but didn't dine. His beard was clean and he was exhausted. He obviously didn't find the breakout point to exit their property and the front gates were locked. Hah, hah, hah, Mr. Smarty!  And my good fortune so I didn't have to drive through the posh streets calling for him.

Just like it was planned, the wild goose chaser drove through the gate. I explained why we were there so he wouldn't call 5-0. I saddled up Joseph, Sweet Lucile's nickname for Zazoo. I wanted to name him Al Joharah, which means jewel of the Nile, but in the current world climate and the fact that I usually live in predominately Jewish neighbourhoods, she calls him Jo. Yelling out an Arabic name will simply bring more attention to my wacky family that I definitely don't want or need.

So we marched through their property past the pool and overlook to Long Island Sound and marched through the Day School to slip through the gate that will give us entrance to our road instead of marching through the whole 28 acres. It was really nice to be on both huge properties. I secretly promised Zaz that we will live on a piece of land like this someday.

Well, poor Zazoo was exhausted so I let him rest at least a half hour after his drink before I fed him and marched him. The chances for a bloat attack are greatly diminished following this rule. I was exhausted too, but we went out for dinner.

Sal's Pizza, Mamaroneck Ave. Mamaroneck. NY.

Zazoo barked incessantly as I turned the key upon our return. I shouted over him, "it's Mommy, Zazoo," but he wouldn't pipe down. I also heard a soft scratch at the door. He only does that when he wants to come in. Strange. As I pushed the door open slowly, I saw a little golden ball who tried to squirm out. Son of a bitch! How the heck did she get out of her cage?

I immediately went into panic mode. I didn't puppy-proof the house but I did pick up after myself even though I couldn't see straight. I pushed wiggle bunny back into her home and assessed the damage. One pair of rubber thongs chewed...that's it. She piddled on the wee-wee pads that I left for Zazoo and one pile of poopie, not on the paper. God or Mother Nature or the ghosts of my Nanas sure watched over me!

What a day! The photo shoot was fun and productive and the drama, all in all, quite minimal. Best case scenario for a little rascal "drive Mommy crazy day." Now there's a fastener clip on her door.  Did she jiggle the door open or did Zazoo?  I'll never know.

Revised body count or...

...is this getting ridiculous or what?

This week has been either a "good catch" week for Zazzy, or pretty horrible for the wild animal community in Orienta.  Since the last body count, he caught a greyish-brown bird on Monday and another skunk on Tuesday. Photo above.  This one only cost ten bucks to the Mexicans who were working on the big house next door to shovel said skunk into a black plastic bag. So, I guess I'm ahead of the game...for now.

Baby ilili..

...or if I didn't have my hands full enough!

Like I don't have enough to keep me busy, I have the Gaul to bring another Afghan into the fold. Her name is Ilili, which is Lebanese for "tell me," which she does. She is quite vocal, almost silly at times and probably thinks the way she communicated with her furry mama is the way to communicate with me. she's such a sweetie. She's about 12 weeks now and she's gained two pounds since her last vet visit with Dr. Vierra two weeks ago. Her legs are incredibly long already and she loves to chase Zazoo around because he has no time for her playfulness. She doesn't understand that. She thinks it's his way of playing. So now the craziness starts. It doesn't stop until I put her into her cave/ crate, where shell sleep quietly and peacefully for awhile. Thank God! Ilili loves to play, especially in the garden, where she found fallen pods from the rain-deprived trees quite fascinating. As she scampers about, inevitably, she gets caught up in her lead and rolls around like a bear cub as she makes little growling, frustrated noises. I have to keep a lead on her so I can catch her when she tries to slip under the gate or wants to chase Zazoo when he's stalking his next meal.

She knows how to use wee wee pads and will potie when I bring her out after a meal or a drink. She's a clean girl, as most Afghans are, as I've discovered through the years.

She knows her name and to come when I say it. I hope she continues this as the breed can be terribly aloof and ignore when they don't have an interest. She loves to meet people. Such a lovely little creature and puts a smile on my face...most of the time.

Looking for a new home for my growing family or...

...will the wildlife survive my wild ones?

So, it's that time of year again and the winds of change will be blowing in soon. That means it's time for this September baby to be moving on. Ended with preposition. Oh well. Anyway, I searched the net for a new home for us. I found a few possibilities in the North Country, Upper Westchester, that is, but the Black Hawk's driver would like to have us close to her.  It's a mom thing, I gather.

So we pulled up in the Black Hawk to see a small property in the 'hood that was way too small and the ancient owner way too controlling about where I could sit or not sit in her bloody garden. Mama gave me the "ixnay" look, so I thanked the old witch politely and we took off back to Skibo Cottage. As we were about to turn into my lane, I asked Mama Lucy to steer the Black Hawk into a long, gated drive with huge evergreens and shade trees everywhere. She balked, but I pushed. She did finally.

It's on two manicured acres.  She's huge; a three story, turn of the century Dutch colonial set back from the road, down a long driveway and adjacent to the day schools' woods which are opposite Skibo Cottage. There is a huge three story barn in the back that I wanted to see.  As we approached, we saw a good sized deer with antlers next to the wishing well in the side yard.  We thought it was a cheesy statue until it moved.  Sweet baby Jesus!  There are more critters in this 'hood than when I was in Upper, Upper.

Local legend and yentahs said the owners were dead and the house just sat. I walked up the creaky old stairs to the main house while sweet Lucy waited patiently. It was old and dark, even on this sunny day.  Just like an old scary movie.  Good thing Lucy was in the Black Hawk with the motor running.  I was scared; but a good scared. Excited, actually.

Perhaps the caretaker was around. Of course no one answered the bell but it gave me time to look through the windows. Leaded glass; just like my entry hall and door. That's how I dated the house. This house had several sets of French doors that opened to the stoop, if that's the right word. Some of these were leaded glass with colored glass as well. Wow we woo hoo!

The front hall looked huge and the staircase and sunshine came through the stained glass with a family crest. I also saw two sets of pocket doors leading off the hall.

Good enough for me.

So I walked down the stairs and gestured to Lucy that I was headed to the back to investigate the barn. I couldn't see much except for the teenage deer who watched me from the overgrown garden. As I returned to the Black Hawk, I saw a little Jeep had pulled up. Mama talked to this lovely old Italian man who had a landscape company name on the side of the vehicle.  We will know more soon.

In the meantime, sweet Lucy said she couldn't stop thinking about this grand old girl so I called the landscaper to arrange for us to view it.  Who knows?  It could be our next "tent".

Will keep you updated. 

Opps, he did it again or...

...or why being Zazoo's Mama keeps me on my toes.

A week to the day after the Skunk Incident, we had the Jack Wabbit Incident. Good ol' Zaz flew out the doors at dawn to a squirrel, two birds and a rabbit who scattered when they caught wind of him. Well, the bunny didn't make it through the fencing. I yelled for Zaz to release the poor creature and he squeaked a frantic few times then he went silent.

This damned Afghan was very proud of himself as he did a parade trot with head and tail held high around the garden with the limp Wabbit in his mouth. He was a big one.  Zaz put him down but wouldn't come to me. As I approached him, he grabbed said Wabbit and took off to another part of the garden to dine on his fresh breakfast. Baby Ilili wanted some but I kept her at a distance by leash. I can't have her sick with only one shot so far.

When Zazoo finished, I threw a large terra cotta pot over the remains and the nice Village of Mamaroneck garbage collectors, Aka, the bin boys, came with a shovel and took it away.

Then I had the pleasure of washing fur, fat and gristle out of his beard and ears. I wanted to vomit. That was the worse part: up close and personal. Uff Uff Uff!

After he dried, I brought him in. Before I knew it, he jumped on the table to sleep off his breakfast. Cheeky Afghan!

Skunked again or for a split second when I woke up this morning...

...I thought to myself, "Wow, I don't have any plans for today.". Man, did that change in a heartbeat. It was about 5:40 AM and I thought I had time for a coffee and then yoga at six with Priscilla from WLIW Ch 21. So I used the Loo and Mr. Zaz was at the door and he asked to go, too, with cute puppy dog eyes. I walked halfway through the garden to chase critters, birds and beasts but none to be had. So I returned to the front doors and let him out. Instead of running out like Algebra at Aqueduct's last race, he slithered out like a panther who stalked a much-needed meal. He has done this a few times so I thought nothing of this behavior. Over the din of the Telly and air-con, I heard something. I was answering mail and I thought it was baby ilili. It wasn't, as she quietly played at my feet.

I stood up and looked out to see Zazoo as he shook something frantically in his mouth.  It was black. It was black and white.  Oh no! Bloody skunk. I ran out and yelled to no avail.  I backed off so as not to be sprayed.  I'm not even sure if I knew if he squirted at this point.  Eventually, Zazoo dropped it and it crawled away.  I went for Zaz's collar and he screamed and dropped to the grass to wipe his face. Shit, shit, shit! He was hit. He screamed like nothing I've ever heard before. Poor, poor child.My heart ached.


I had baby ilili under my arm and a screaming boy in my other hand. How I managed to get thru two doors is still one of those mysteries that happens in overdrive.   He got away from me when we got inside.  Poor Zaz smooshed his face into the leather couch and howled.  I managed to grab him and got him upstairs but first brushed his hair out of his face to see if there was any physical damage from the skunk. I felt something prickly. What? It was part of the plastic netting of the fence.  I hoped it didn't poke or scratch his eyes.  I removed it and saw foamy pink that oozed out his mouth as he wretched.  Oh God, blood?  I rinsed his mouth and eyes with nasal saline and he didn't have any more pink foam.  So I guess it was skunk blood.  The skunk spray temporarily blinds the animal, so I led him upstairs to the bathroom and quickly made a paste of baking soda and peroxide to smear into affected areas. Poor Zoo.  He stopped howling but tried to clean his eyes on anything vertical, including me.  So, as this poor child stood there with white paste all over his face, ears, next, chest and paws, I continued to rinse his eyes.  We got into the shower and washed it off; carefully and slowly.  Then I re-applied the paste and did a proper wash and conditioner. He started to smell better; pretty nice, in fact.  My senses had been assaulted.

Poor, poor doggie was so upset AND he didn't use the loo, I realized he peed on the floor and when his rear legs went weak in the shower, I thought he was going to expire; he pooped instead.  I was so happy. They say when you're about to die your muscles slacken and everything comes out. Oy vey.  But my best friend was ok.

What an ordeal I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.  I'm happy to report Mr.  Zazoo is fine.  And he still wants to kill the skunk.  I didn't let him out in the garden alone for a few days because he went right to the spot and pounced and paced.  I saw the skunk a few hours  later as he went into his hole just beyond the garden fence.  So did Zaz.  So the story's not over quite yet.

I found Greg Jahner, of Wildlife Services, Inc, 914-420-6385, who serves the entire Tri-state area, who appeared promptly at 5 PM the same day.  He saw the den and in lieu of 650 usd for traps, he found a big rock and placed it on top of their home to suffocate the injured skunk.  He said it would probably die from his injuries anyway and for the rest of the family...oh well.  It's better than 650 usd a few times.  He charged 150 usd for the rock positioning maneuver.

He suggested I call Zaz's vet to see if shots were up-to-date.  A rabies booster was required, so we schlepped to the vet the next morning.  The lovely Dr. Vierra administered the injection painlessly and that's it.  End of story.  I hope, inshallah!http://www.rhvh.com/

Zazoo's Mama: Skunked again or for a split second when I woke up this morning...