The times they really are a changing or...

...I've never questioned my mortality in this way.

With great anticipation from the rumours about the newly re-opened and re-furbished Capitol Theater in Port Chester last night with little sis and a dear friend from high school days in Ahmonk. We had a great dinner at Fat Mario's Tarry Lodge and entered the theater that was so full of memories for me.  I had seen so many groups from the late 60's early 70's there with sis, parents and assorted friends. The Dead, the Allman's, Ten Years After, Rick Derringer with Johnny & Edgar Winter et al.

It smelled squeaky clean,  was well lit, bright and shiny when I entered the lobby--a far cry from the old days. No huge whiff of pot or haze of smoke hovering in the lobby. No throngs of wasted people holding up walls or staircases. No smiles either.

I hiked up two flights of stairs and entered the balcony with the show in progress. In the darkness, I looked down to the stage and saw a bent-over, frail old man hunched over a mike with a scratchy voice yelling out vocals for a tune I couldn't recognize. It took a moment but I was shocked when I realized that was the great Bob Dylan. I felt sad immediately.  Sad for him shlepping his poor old self on stage 200 nights a year.  More sad for me because I wasn't ready for it.  Then to see all the grey and white haired, out of shape, poorly dressed people bobbing to the music that was practically inaudible to me in the last row of nosebleed. It was too much. Too overwhelming for my delicate sensibilities. Pathetic.

Now I can understand why most people won't attend a retro concert.  I couldn't wait to leave.  In fact I called for a car after about 20 minutes and had to wait an eternity, or it seemed, to get home. Where I am safe with Silly Lily and Mr. Zazoo. In my "I'm never getting old" world.

"Mommy, Mommy, Timmy fell down the well!" or...

...Mr. Zazoo saves the day!

It was dinner time. I was preparing the kids' dinner while they waited patiently on the deck. All of a sudden Zazoo started barking crazy barks.  Not the Afghan-barking-tourture every 10 seconds, but wild, erratic like "Mommy, that damn ililiShit!'s being bad" bark. So, I ran up the spiral staircase as quickly as I could without breaking my neck to see Zazoo's ears out of his shmatah and jumping and barking frantically.  What now, Lassie?

No sign of ililiShit! so I ran toward the deck.  Not there. I heard a high pitched chirping/squeaking sound and thought, "Oh, not again," as I ran down the stairs toward her. She totally ignored me and poked something with her nose.  It was a baby squirrel.  He was alive, thank God, and screamed to his mama.  It was quite windy, so he probably was knocked out of his tree nest.  Poor thing.  I put the bitch safely away, grabbed a pair of latex gloves and a clean towel. The poor thing was almost in shock and he didn't move.  But his eyes were open.  I whispered as I gingerly picked him up. He didn't resist. I wrapped him loosely in the towel and put him to my bosom as I talked and made some silly little noises that I thought would comfort him.  He believed he was safe and he let me touch him so I looked him over.  No bites, no bugs.  Good.  He was just shook up. I would be too if I feel out of my penthouse flat onto a hard surface and then some floppy yellow giant with an ice cold nose started poking at me.

OK, now what?  I was so shook up and happy and frightened but I didn't know what to do. With Rocky in my bosom,  I walked over to the lady with the baby bunny incident and called Papa at the same time. He said the mama is looking for him and to get back there. He was right. Mama called and chirped for him but she wouldn't come down the fence. I had to get plan B.  Daylight faded quickly.  She said to contact wildlife rescue.  So I did.  I had a number in my phone but that woman said she couldn't take him.  A few others said the same thing. They all said to put him where the mama could see him but the hawk circled and squealed. I didn't want to leave him. I finally got someone who was kind enough to stop in with baby squirrel formula and feed him.  She told me Rocky was 6-7 weeks old and should go back to his mama.  I had quickly read up on baby squirrels without mamas so I made a hot water bottle to keep him warm, in a towel in a box with some walnuts in a warm bathroom overnight.  The plan: put him in the tree at dawn.  Keep little shit away from Rocky. She paced on the window ledge licking her chops.

As I closed my eyes and put my head on the pillow, I recounted my day and I felt good that I helped Rocky.  He was a sweet little guy and so friendly. I had pet him without gloves after the volunteer had held him in her hands. His fur was soft and he was a delicate little thing. I was so careful with him and didn't let his sharp, pointy claws get stuck in the towel because I read they can break a leg trying to get un-snagged. He let me hold him and I put him on my chest and I swear he was purring. There was a part of me that wanted to keep him and help him but I knew he belonged with another squirrel, not a squirrelly lady with two always-hungry-for-critters Afghan Hounds.

As soon as I opened my eyes in the morning, I saw mama squirrel as she came down the fence again to where I had placed him. I took him outside and climbed a ladder and put him in the fork of the tree.  He came back toward me.  So sad. I told him to find his nest and mama. I put him on the tree in a vertical position so he had to hold on and he climbed up, up, up, very quickly and precisely.  Hooray! He was going home.

All the dogs were kept indoors all day and I listened and looked to see if he was rejected, fell out or decided to run away from home again.  No sign of him.  Good. Or is it?

I hope he comes back to visit me one day.  Hats off to Rocky!

Houdini is getting a run for his money or...

...it's ilili's turn to be naughty.

Guess who slipped through the gate?

I was downstairs making coffee one morning and I saw movement outside in my perriferal vision. Lordy, it was ililiSit! rooting around in the lawn. Soaking wet. What the ??? So I went out and she was thrilled to see me; her back end wiggling with her tail flapping wildly. Except there was a huge 3 foot length of rose bush pulling her back legs and butt together. I laughed at her and pulled the prickers off her. I brought her inside to snap this pic.

Turns out she bore a hole thru the netting of the soft gate, scampered down to the waters' edge where I had trimmed back the rose bush but not collected the cutoffs and either chased a goose into the drink, fell in, or rolled around the dewy grass. This Mötley little girl is going to drive me to drink. and they think SophieNo! is precocious.

So guess who had a shower with me that morning???

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Be careful what you wish for...

...or a how to divert a morning of disaster.


Lately, there have been way too many Afghan Hounds and sight hounds running away and staying away in this great big nation of ours. Facebook is the perfect medium to spread the word. But to an anxious Afghan Mama of two, it's made me even more apprehensive. And anxious. So anxious that I've recently purchased a gps tracking collar for each Mötley Monkey.

They were charged up, activated and placed on their collars yesterday morning. When Zaz and I marched, it sent me an SMS stating he left the home zone. Cool.

We have had record-breaking mild weather this Winter. Man, Mother Nature heard my prayers. Finally. A wet snow day in October then another of about an inch that melted the same day in January. Blessed.

It's been really warm. So warm that daffodils and crocus are everywhere. A fog rolled in over the water at dusk so I knew we were in for some weather. Sweet Lucile texted a weather update. Colder, rain, possible thunder and high winds. I do love a good thunder and lightening storm and I love to hear the wind howl. The drama of it makes me feel alive and invigorated.

Ok. So the winds came and are still here this morning. Bright and sunny but windy! Love it. Looking forward to the march with Zazoo.

As they finished dining, I have to shuffle them around so...to make my life easier. I put ililiSit! on the deck and prepared to saddled up the big guy. He barked frantically as he peered through the front glass door. It was the "get the hell off my property" bark. So I took a look and saw the back half of a big yellow dog in the hedges surrounding the stairs. It took a second but...it was f ing ilili! She escaped. The first time in Premium Point, I thought. I put Zaz on the deck where i knew the table barricade was in place so he couldnt get down the stairs and grabbed her leash and the iPhone. I didn't have that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Priceless. I knew I'd get her back safe and sound. She came to me straightaway but slipped through my hands! Tricky girl. She had a romp through the neighbour's properties, of which I had the opportunity to see close ups of their homes as I watched ililiScamper not sit, through the properties at this early morning, Saturday morning hour.

We are not very far from a main road this time so that's the primary reason for the gps purchase. I saddled her two houses away as she peered into their glassdoor and we returned home. The gps system didn't even activate coz we were so close to our house. Easy peasy.

The confidence I had in knowing she had the locator affixed to her collar made me not stress and catch her in a more relaxed way. God, life is good when I take precautions. Priceless.

And how did she get out? I walked the grounds and saw that a big trash bin that sits outside the wrought iron gate was blown by the wind into said heavy gate which opened enough for her to scamper. Ahh, the wind that I love. Tricky.

The items are from tagg.com. Cost for both and charger is 200 USD. Monthly gps fee is under 10 USD. Live stream tracking comes up on a map on any smart phone. SMS and emails sent as well. http://www.pettracker.com/

There seems to be an incredibly large amount of Afghans escaping or...

...the humans that care for them just aren't feeding them enough?

Via Facebook, I learn about lost domesticated animals.  Some local, some nation-wide.  Afghans are the nationwide ones & friends constantly post & ask for cross-posting of these beautiful but illusive silly, scared animals safe return.

My stomach turns each time I read about another lost one.  Mine have been easy to bring home...so far.  But I got that strange, horrible feeling in the pit of my tummy after reading one of these postings this morning.  Time to do something.  Even though our posh new residence, Premium Point, is secluded from the outside world, we're only a block away from a busy main thoroughfare. Uff!  I can't even...ok, so what to do?

I asked Cesar Milan, but didn't get a reply. I also asked Afghan Hounds International & The Pedigree Database 

also known as the Afghan yentah hot line.  This was my post: 

I'm getting a bad feeling with all these Afghans taking a runner. I want to buy gps locators for mine so I'm not the next sorry MoFo posting about this. Question: What is the best system? I want to buy it today. If I can afford this expensive breed, then I sure as hell can afford a gps system to care for them. Thanks.

 I received over a hundred responses with only one, yes, one, reply to the question and it was this big, heavy collar with an antenna.  I can just picture my monkeys running around like "Lost in Space" or  Astro, "The Jetson's" dogs.  Oy vey.  I did manage to meet a lot of squirrel-y Afghan owners and was quite amused reading their comments.

Bottom line:  after some comprehensive research on my own, I purchased 2 collars, a white for Zazzy and a pink for...you guessed it.  With all the other stuff that comes with it & a monthly charge so I can track & find them with my handy dandy iPhone.

They will be here in a few days & hopefully the Jewel will don the pink one & we can play "hide and go seek".

What's wrong with this picture or....

...what did that damned ililiSit! Get up to now?

From years of traveling, I wash lingerie by hand, in the tub, as I wash myself. Time efficient. Conserves water. Saves the delicate fabric and elastic. So what I usually do is throw said lingerie into the tub when I peel it off at night and forget about it until it's washed In the morning with me.

Side note: since the spay/neuter drama, I've let ililiSit! have more freedom. Translation: she's giving her Facebook friend, SophieNo! a run for her money. First it was the commanda on Monday. Thank God they send a free replacement today.


And then today: When I walked into this kitchen this morning I saw something on the window seat. It wasn't a toy. It wasn't her because she was in her crate. Upon closer inspection I realised it was a brassiere. Mine! Damn her. And as I picked it up to bring it to the tub I noticed she really chewed it up. Little bitch. She even ripped it. It must have been fun and tasty coz it smelled like Mama.

Does anyone want an Afghan puppy, real cheap? In fact, I'll throw in some food, a crate, and many chewed items.

Never a dull moment or....

....how silly ilili scared the bejesus out of me yesterday.

I was upstairs talking to Papa via phone. She started to scream and I said bye to him as I almost killed myself going down the circular staircase. She screams sometimes when she hears me talking but this scream was different.

Relentless, heart-wrenching squeals at the top of her little lungs. I saw a leg sticking out limply from her crate. As I got closer, I realised she was stuck in the wiring of the crate by her bottom jaw. And still screaming. Her bottom k9's had prevented her from retracting her little mouth after she decided she couldn't bite the toggle open.

I tried to move her jaw around to remove it but to no avail. And she continued to scream. Talk about powerless? Shit, my baby is in trouble and I can't help her. Such a devastating feeling. One of the most horrible times in my recent life.

I sprinted next door, opened their door and yelled but no one was home. I could hear her screaming. It was Saturday afternoon and I guess everyone was out. In the three seconds I had to get back to my house, I prayed to the powers that be to help my little girl. I didn't hear her any more. Oh God, she passed out, I thought.

As I walked in, I saw she was free. She just sat there on her elbows. I opened the crate and she went into my open arms for a cuddle. Poor silly ilili!

All of her teeth were still intact but it looked like she was getting a fat lip. On closer inspection, she had a little abrasion under her chin which I cleansed with a peroxide soaked cotton pad.

I was more "shook up" than she. I called Papa back and told him what had transpired. "I hope she learned a lesson and won't try that again," was the only comment from the Sage. I hope so too. Poor ililiSit!