Caleigh O'Shea's Blog, page 14

Who Named These Things?

Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers, where I can walk undisturbed… ~Walt Whitman, American poet and journalist (often called the father of free verse)

As I walked past this house the other day,
I saw a row of flowers tall and pink.
Their lack of leaves seemed no cause to shrink
As in the breezes they did dance and sway.
What are these grand dames, I did say,
And home to research Google’s famous ink.
Amaryllis Belladonna, I think.
Quite a mouthful for such a pretty spray!

Around here they have another name,
One that’s not so long or even grand.
One, in fact, that makes my face grow rosy.
Yes, indeed, these beauties’ claim to fame
(Which probably should be banned across the land)
Is Naked Lilies. Poor pitiful posy!

Note: I tried to write this as an Italian Sonnet, but I’m not at all sure I’ve succeeded. It was way harder than I thought when I started! These are interesting flowers, but I’ve never tried to grow them (they’re toxic to dogs).

Cuteness Comes to Visit

Courage consists not in hazarding without fear, but in being resolutely minded in a just cause. ~Proverb

“What are you doing on my air conditioning unit?”

“Just looking around.”

“At what?”

“Your lovely yard, for one thing.”

“Yes, it’s lovely. Especially when I’m chasing squirrels in it.”

“No, I think it’s more pleasant this way, with you inside looking out.”

“But I can’t get you.”

“Exactly.”

“If I make enough noise, my mama will let me out.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Meaning?”

“She strikes me as kinder than that.”

“What gave you such a dumb idea?”

“I don’t think she wants dead squirrel in her yard.”

“Who said anything about dead?”

“Doo-dee-doo-dee-doo, this air conditioner is a nice perch.”

“I didn’t know squirrels could sing.”

“Of course we can!”

“You’re singing on our air conditioner.”

“Uh-huh, and a nice perch it is, too.”

“You said that already. What’s so great about it?”

“It’s a wonderful vantage point.”

“For what?”

“Seeing farther. Guessing distances. Avoiding pests like you.”

“Pests?”

“Doo-dee-doo-dee-doo.”

“Shouldn’t you be in a tree or something?”

“Trees are overrated. Here, I have a nice breeze, sunshine, and no bugs.”

“But there’s no food.”

“Nor am I hungry right now.”

“Wait a minute! You’re the one who leaves corn cobs and apple cores in my yard?”

“Doo-dee-doo-dee-doo.”

“Stop that singing!”

“I’m told I have a lovely voice.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I’m not wrong about this perch.”

“Yes, you are. Why, you can’t even sleep there.”

“Why not?”

“You might fall off.”

“Have you ever tried sleeping in a tree?”

Note: This is an imaginary conversation between my dog Monkey and a yard squirrel who ventured awfully close. For several years now, I’ve been awed by my friend John Howell‘s ability to write an entire story in conversation without dialog tags (you know, that “he said/she said” part). I wondered if I could do it, too. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, you know!

Birds on a Line

If hunger is not the problem, food is not the answer. ~Author unknown

There once were some doves on a line

Who thought they were doing just fine

They looked up and down

And glanced all around

Before spotting a furry canine.

Beneath them, the dog did dance

In fact, you could see him prance

His eye, it did gleam

I could tell he did dream

Of dinner on doves, perchance?

 

Note: Poetry form is Double Limerick. I’d never heard of this, but I guess it’s really a thing!

Suffering Guilt

If you mess up, ‘fess up. ~Author unknown

Monkey (also known as Houdini)

I knew better.

Dogs should be in crates — or somehow secured — when riding in a car. They should be taught to Come When Called.

And Shelties just might be the best escape artists ever.

If you’ve read this blog long enough, you know my little Monkey was a pretty sick pup for the first year-and-a-half of his life.

Consequently, I failed to teach him things he needed to learn. I mean, really, how do you train a pup when you can’t feed him treats without upsetting his already-sickly tummy?

I also failed to be firm when I needed to, letting him get away with all kinds of stupid monkey business.

And the other day, we both nearly paid for my failures with his life.

(Perhaps I’m exaggerating, but you need to know how serious I am … and how guilty I still feel.)

Monkey had a vet appointment for a vaccination.

No big deal. We’ve done that sort of thing before. But Monk gets real anxious, pacing and panting. He refuses to ride nicely in his crate; instead, he whines and scratches the sides before making that gagging sound like he’s going to give his lunch the heave-ho.

Hard to keep one’s eyes on the road with all that commotion.

When we left, Gramma asked me to drop off something inside the Post Office that needed to be mailed.

I didn’t want to. I feared that, despite the relative cool temps, somebody would smash my car windows while I was gone in an over-vigilant effort to “save” my sweltering dog.

Gramma was insistent.

Well, Monk hopped in the front seat with me holding his harness and leash to make sure he wouldn’t fly through the windshield if I had to make a sudden stop.

Getting to the P.O., I parallel parked, grabbed the letter, and turned the car off, instructing Monk to “wait right here” and I’d be “back in a minute.”

No sooner had I opened the door — even before I could extricate myself from the car — Monkey had slipped between me and the driver’s seat and out onto the pavement.

My heart shot into my throat.

There Monk stood, leash dragging limply beside him. Staring wildly in all directions.

Frozen with fear.

You can’t run after a Sheltie — they’ll just panic and run away. Still, I jumped out of the car, gasped when I noticed an older-model van approaching on our side, and yelled for Monkey to stop and come back.

Miraculously, he did.

He jumped in the car and so did I, our heats pounding in presto time. I hugged him fiercely and offered fervent Thank You prayers for what surely could have been an untimely trip to the Rainbow Bridge for him.

I’m still quaking, but I’ve learned my lesson:

1) Train your dog early — and often — to Come When Called, no matter the distractions.

2) Insist your dog be in a crate while riding in the car (or secured with something like LeashBoss.)

3) Cover your dog in prayer.

Don’t let my story become yours!

Mama the Warrior

Courage is fear that has said its prayers. ~American proverb

I Monkey here.

I’ll bet you all were wondering when I’d get around to stealing Mama’s blog again and telling you the interesting things I’ve been doing.

No, not Mama’s pretty poetry posts and artsy pictures of flowers and such.

The real interesting things.

Like what happened the other day.

The sky was getting dark. Not nighttime dark; stormy weather dark.

Clouds were racing overhead, the wind was kicking up, and I Monkey started feeling my skin prickle.

You know, when change is in the air.

Well, maybe you don’t know. I’m not sure humans feel weather the way we dogs do.

Anyway, Mama looked out the window to the back yard and shouted, “There it is! That snake! He’s slithering around my flowers!”

What’s a snake? I Monkey am intrigued.

Gramma said, “Oh no! Go kill it! We can’t have that thing coming inside!”

Kill it? I guess a snake is no good. But if Mama’s after something, I want to be right there with her.

I’m always up for excitement, you see, and this situation was building nicely.

Then Mama said something about needing to “corral the dog” before she went out.

Uh-oh, that didn’t sound good.

And, before I could blink, why, she’d fenced me off inside and slipped out the door without me.

Hey, Mama, wait up!

Worst of all, I couldn’t see where she went or what she was doing, and that made me nervous as a cat. All I could do was listen, and I’m telling you, the sounds weren’t pretty.

First, I heard Mama’s feet stomp across the yard. Then she picked up a weapon (the hoe, I learned later). Then I heard a series of Thuds along with Mama breathing heavy and ordering, “Die!” followed by some words that nice mamas shouldn’t say.

Then I heard Mama’s feet pound across the yard again, followed by the sound of the water hose being turned on, and water streaming across the patio. Then it was quiet for a bit before Mama came back inside.

She was wearing a big grin and announced, “Got him!”

Doggone it, Mama, if there’s any “getting” to be done in this house, you know I Monkey expect to be in on the fun. But she compounded my misery by refusing to let me out and saying, “We have to let the wet get dry first.”

Wet? Dry? Who gives a hoot, Mama? If there’s an intruder in my yard, I want a piece of him.

So now you know why Mama’s in the doghouse as far as I’m concerned. She might be a warrior, but she’s sneaky and selfish with the fun.

Huh. No cookies for her tonight!

Butterfly of Happiness

If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies. ~Author unknown

Red Admiral Butterfly

When

I was

Cleaning up

Some nasty weeds

The yard men ignored,

I saw a fluttering

From the corner of my eye.

Looking closer, I saw it was

A gorgeous butterfly of unknown

Species, resting on the rocks below me.

 

Silly woman, pointing her phone at me!

Has she never seen a butterfly?

Well, then, I’m a Red Admiral —

Quite common really if you

Would keep your eyes open.

Monarchs get all the

Attention but

I deserve

Some praise

Too!

 

Note: Poetic form is Double Etheree.

 

 

 

 

Thanks, St. Anthony!

Sometimes life drops blessings in your lap without your lifting a finger. Serendipity, they call it. — Charlton Heston, American actor and political activist

Do you remember those federal economic stimulus checks sent out during the COVID pandemic to help Americans make financial ends meet?

Three rounds of “direct relief” were made, starting in March 2020. Even individuals and families earning more than the cutoff point were eligible for partial payments.

Well, I distinctly remember receiving the second one. Opening up the check. And putting it aside to deposit later.

But things got busy, and somehow I misplaced the check.

Who’d have guessed it would turn into a year long nightmare?

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but after receiving the check, I never gave it another thought … until it came time to do my taxes.

My accountant needed proof the stimulus check had arrived, prompting me to recall I hadn’t cashed it!

I looked all over the house, but it was nowhere to be found.

Not deposited to my bank. Not stuffed in file folders or under stacks of this or that.

Nowhere.

I asked St. Anthony (patron saint for the recovery of lost items) for help, but he must’ve been busy with others who were more needy.

So my accountant copied the IRS letter notifying me of the payment and asked them to resend it because the check was lost.

No response.

I waited a while and called them. Was told a replacement check was being sent out. Instructed to destroy the first check if it should ever turn up.

Like that was going to happen!

But it did, something I’m attributing to Fate, or Serendipity, or St. Anthony.

You see, I went to our public library to check out some books not long ago. I was browsing the stacks, came across an author I’d read a while back, and decided to try another of his mysteries.

When I opened the front cover to read the blurb, I gasped at seeing MY OWN NAME staring at me from my lost stimulus check!

It was dated January 2021, signed by then-President Trump, and marked Void After One Year.

So, while I couldn’t access the funds, at least I had proof I wasn’t nuts and something that might speed up the replacement check process.

Can you imagine: out of the thousands upon thousands of books in our library, what are the odds I’d open the very one I needed to? Or that nobody had checked out that book in all that time?

Well, it’s now been two months since my first call, and I’ve yet to see a replacement check. I’ve called them a second time, and they assure me it’s coming.

I’ll believe that when I see it but one thing’s for certain: this time, I’m going right to the bank with it!

Busy as a Bee

Take time to smell the roses and eventually you’ll inhale a bee.  ~Author unknown

There once was a bee who did think
From flowers he could steal a long drink.
He chose one and got busy
But left in a tizzy
Without siphoning any of the pink.

Note: This poetic form is Limerick (which I haven’t written in a long time!)

Time for a Wee Break

Son, you outgrew my lap, but never my heart. ~Author unknown

Gee, I miss this kid!!!

It’s been many months

Since Domer came to visit.

Time for a blog break!

Note: I’ll be back shortly!

Standing Out

Knowing who you are is the best defense against who they think you are. ~Dodinsky, author

Zinnias

I

Stand out

Among them

Though I’m a part

Of all the others

Diff’rent — not bad or good

Just trying to be myself

Soaking water, air, and sunshine

Minding my own business as I grow

Conscious I’m the same but very diff’rent.

Note:  Poetic form is Etheree.