Caleigh O'Shea's Blog, page 2

Cleaning Paws … Still

I am an immaculate housekeeper. I’m clean, but the house is a mess. ~Phyllis Diller, American stand-up comedian, actress, author, and more.

I Monkey here.

Mama seems to think this blog is hers, but I’m here to remind you — it’s all about me. Or at least it should be.

Anyway, the other day, Mama was at one of those big box stores and started down the pet aisle. Hanging from a metal pole was this odd-looking device:

Kinda reminds you of something medieval, doesn’t it? Something that might be used to torture somebody with those “teeth” inside?

Here’s a side view of the thing:

Better, but now it looks more like a horse’s feed bag!

Well, Mama was intrigued. She read the instructions on the back of the package and decided that $5 wasn’t too much to invest to see if this rubbery device could do what it proposed to do.

That is, clean my Monkey feet after I romp through the rain-soaked mud in my back yard.

See, Mama’s already invested — heavily — in other foot-cleaners, among which are towels, a plastic bucket to soak my feet in, and something called a Muddy Mat (more on that later).

But she’s complaining all the time about her achy back — because of having to bend over and clean my feet every time I go out and come back in. Which, in fairness to Mama, is a pretty good lot.

Not that I have a tiny bladder. It’s more like because I’m such a curious little Monkey, I’ve got tons of energy that demands to be released by running around outdoors, and because the stupid cats and rabbits and squirrels won’t stay out of MY yard.

Humph!

Anyway, perhaps it’s a good thing Mama didn’t break the bank by buying this gizmo because it’s not much better than the bucket-and-towel routine.

Sure, it sounds easy enough. Add a bit of water to the pouch, dip the pup’s paw inside, swish it around so the “teeth” grab the dirt, remove paw from cleaner, and dry off with the micro-towel that’s provided.

BUT. The “micro” towel is so micro that it’s completely soaked after Mama does just one of my paws. What’s she supposed to do with the other three??

Drip-dry isn’t an option.

And … the thing doesn’t sit up by itself either. Oh, yeah, there’s a handy-dandy clip, but I can imagine water ALL over the floor when Mama leans down, sticks my paw inside, then grabs for that tiny towel.

As for the Muddy Mat, well, the jury is still out, as Mama’s fond of saying. She hopes it will at least sop up most of the rainwater that I Monkey bring inside, but she doubts it will scrub off the mud.

That’s still her job, heh heh.

Signing off for now, I Monkey – backyard mud champion

Ladybug (Ladybird)

Let your imagination… fly like the lady-bird, “north, south, and east, and west,” but take care that it always comes home to rest. ~Robert Southey (1774–1843), English poet

Once there was a ladybug
A-sittin’ on a tree
Chomping on her dinner
Never minding me.

Ladybugs eat insects
And are considered “good”
So I let her feast unbothered
As she likely hoped I would.

But why are males and females
Called “lady”bugs, I croak?
They’re named for Our Lady, Mary,
In art, wearing a red cloak.

Note: This is some sort of rhyming verse, as best as I can tell. I’m open to learning more, if anybody wants to educate me!

Mother’s Day 2025

Mother, have you ever thought, dear,
That some day our lives must part,
And the fated one must linger—
Linger here with broken heart?
~W. Dayton Wegefarth (1885–1973), American writer

When my neighbor moved in next door, she transplanted some luscious phlox to the fence line in our backyards.

But apparently, phlox doesn’t recognize a barrier, and it’s spread onto my side of the fence. Not that I’m complaining!

I think it’s delightful how this plant is sharing its beauty with both of us.

In fact, I like to think of it as my late mom’s doing. She tried, but never could get phlox to grow when she was on earth; now that she’s in Heaven, I’ll just bet she’s smiling!

Note: Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!

 

Storm Cleanup Time

For the man sound in body and serene of mind there is no such thing as bad weather; every sky has its beauty, and storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously. ~George Gissing (English novelist), “Winter,” The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft, 1903

It’s been kind of a rough spring here thus far.

We’ve run the gamut: high winds, thunder, lightning, heavy rain, and even tornadoes share the docket with practically perfect sunshine and calm. And the temperatures? If nothing else, Illinois in spring is erratic, ranging from the 40s to the 70s by day and the 20s to 50-ish by night.

But you’d like to see pictures, wouldn’t you? Okay, here goes:

This homeowner has a mess to clean up — downed limbs and an ongoing water/sewer project interrupted by weather, I imagine:

And somebody has a pile of limbs to cart off:

Here’s a tall tree with a limb barely hanging on:

And here’s a several days’ aftermath of nearly five inches of rain (no, it isn’t a lake; it’s a residential street):

And lest you think I escaped unscathed, here’s my backyard fence … with my neighbor’s tree collapsed on it:

How about a closeup, showing an opening that the Monk could squeeze through if he was so inclined:

At this point, about all we can do is be grateful it wasn’t worse and to hope things settle down soon!

Greening and Pinking

To this day, color is an enormous delight to me. It means experience, adventure of all kinds. ~Harry Behn, American screenwriter

When

You walk

With a dog

Outside in Spring,

You can’t help but see

That the world around us

Is greening and turning pink,

As new life bursts into color,

Trees shed their spent flowers, and sidewalks

Become magical pathways of beauty.

Note: Poetry form is Etheree.

Silent (Easter) Sunday

The return of springtime always brings with it naturally a revival of the sweetest hopes and deepest joys of human nature. The heart of man in springtime is naturally joyous; all nature rejoices around him, and he cannot but participate in the general anthem of thanksgiving, and unite his voice with the universal pæan of praise. ~W. J. Colville, English medium, lecturer, author, 1886

Click to view slideshow.

Happy Easter! Can you stand five more photos of Spring? I’ve turned off comments so you can enjoy without having to work too hard!

Looking for Spring 2025

The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month. ~Henry Van Dyke, American author, educator, and clergyman

I can’t speak for everyone, but it seems to me that Central Illinois is weather-weary.

Tired of gray days and cold temperatures. Bored by day after day of rain and thunderstorms. Frustrated at the capriciousness of Mother Nature.

Still, on the one pretty day we’ve had since, oh, I don’t know, February or so, the Monk and I managed to get outdoors and look for signs that Spring is on the horizon.

Take a look at what we found!

A hyacinth:

Pink magnolia in bloom:

Yellow forsythia:

A patch of daffodils:

I didn’t get close enough to identify this one, but it’s pretty:

Two pear trees:

A pretty bush just starting to flower:

Grape-hyacinth:

Pretty in pink:

Purple plum in bloom:

Those who’ve lived here a while know not to put away their cold weather gear this early, but we take the pretty days as we can get ’em!

Monkey Makes A Mistake

Every mistake must be paid for, rarely by the person who committed it. ~Jacques Deval, French playwright, screenwriter, and film director

I Monkey here.

Mama says confession is good for the soul. I don’t know about that, but if I can teach another pup NOT to do what I’ve done, then maybe confession is all right.

Don’t thank me — I’m generous like that (or at least, I’m trying to be, it being Lent and all!)

One Saturday evening last month, Mama dropped a green ball on the floor, and I was on it in a heartbeat.

Man, was it good!

Cold, juicy, slippery. And just the right size for my puppy mouth.

But Mama had a hissy-fit.

She screamed “No!” at me. She grabbed the furs at the back of my neck. She stomped her foot on the floor.

But it was too late. That ball had been devoured, and I was looking around for another one.

What was this yummy ball, you ask? It was a grape.

And for those who aren’t aware, grapes are toxic to dogs.

Mama grabbed her phone and left a message for my dogtur. She went on Google and found that even one grape can kill a pup.

Imagine that!

Well, she screamed some more and called me all sorts of things good mamas don’t say (especially during Lent).

Then she debated whether to make me vomit or not. The online jury was split over whether that was a good thing, and Mama went with the crowd saying NOT, unless it was under a dogtur’s supervision.

When Dogtur finally got back to Mama, she advised her to watch me closely for signs of kidney failure.

Say what??

Yep, grape poisoning symptoms can take 24-48 hours to show up, and they typically affect the kidneys. That goes for stuff made with grapes, like jelly or fruit juice, too.

I knew this was serious when Mama started crying and fretting over my impending death, saying she wasn’t ready to send another pup to the Rainbow Bridge this soon.

All weekend, Mama didn’t sleep worth beans. She watched me. And that was weird because I Monkey am the one who usually watches her.

Well, I didn’t vomit. Didn’t have diarrhea. Wasn’t lethargic. Didn’t lose my appetite. Didn’t pee more than usual.

In short, no symptoms of distress.

Nevertheless, Mama had me down at Dogtur’s office first thing Monday morning.

Dogtur ran a blood test, and my kidney function was perfectly normal!

(My brofur, the Domer, says it figures that I, who was such a sick pup for the entire first year of my life, would be able to survive eating a grape with no ill effects!)

Anyway, Dogtur urged Mama to keep watching me because sometimes symptoms of grape toxicity take a while to develop. I Monkey think I’m fine — it’s been more than three weeks already. Still, I’ve got some vaccinations coming up in April, and Dogtur will run another kidney function test then to make double-sure I’m okay.

In the meantime, Mama’s not taking any chances. She pens me off every meal-time out of fear I’ll snatch something else that’s okay for humans but not for dogs (like raisins or chocolate):

I need a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card, Mama!

The moral of this story?

For you humans, teach your pups “Leave It” and “Drop It.” Those commands could save their lives. In all fairness, Mama tried, but I Monkey refused to learn. (I’m stubborn like that).

For you pups, when your pawrent says you shouldn’t eat something, they’re not doing it to be mean. Rather, they’re doing it because they love you (and because they’re fond of sleeping at night!)

Signing off,

I Monkey, grape-eater (and despite the date of this post, this is not an April Fool’s joke!!)

What’s Up, Buttercup?

No man has a heart pure enough to interpret the freshness of flowers. ~Auguste Rodin, French sculptor

A

Pretty

Yellow gold

Bulb was blooming

Beneath a large tree

Waiting to be admired

By me and Monk on our walk.

After appreciating it

And checking my plant app for ID,

I learned its name is Winter Aconite.

 

Native to Europe’s woodlands and meadows,

Part of the buttercup family,

One of Spring’s earliest bloomers,

Winter Aconite attracts

Pollinators, but is

Poisonous to man

And pets, so look,

But don’t touch

It at

All!

Note: Poetry form is Double Etheree.

Gone, But Never Forgotten

Miss you still, my beautiful Dallas 11/28/06 – 3/2/20

The summer will bloom into roses,
And laughter will follow your tears;
I linger alone in the shadows
That fell from the beautiful years.
The autumn will shine into harvests,
The grapes will hang purple with wine,
The lark will sing high in the meadow;
The shadow forever is mine…
~Josephine Butterfield Walcott (1840–1906), “Destiny,” World of Song, 1878