Saving The Little Ones

And the rains came threatening to sabatoge the family just outside my office window...

There's something about the little ones.  The innocent.  The poor, defenceless babies 

weathering life storms...    I feel helpless.  

Me:  "Gary!  We have to do something!" 

And so, my knight climbed the step ladder and puttied the hole where the 

rains were flooding the nest.

Soon mama bird returned and gave the little ones a piece of her mind.  I could hear her chirping from inside my office and I watched her bobbing back and forth in extreme animation, probably telling them that they should never allow humans anywhere near the home while she is away.

If they only knew....

Dear Diary,

There are days when I feel like a pup again.  Could be dementia.  Could be just plain spunk on my part.  Maybe one is only as old as one feels acts.  It felt good to rip up that package of tissues and spread them all over the floor.  Real good.  Gracie.

She's Trouble

Right outside of my office window, tucked inside the rain spout, a new family of babies wait for mama bird to bring home supper.  It's been going on for weeks now.  The building of the nest.  The activity off and on there.  And then, the babies.  

I climbed a step-ladder and tried to get a shot.   Awe... a newbie.  

Where are your feathers little birdie friend?

 There's nothing like babies to usher in spring, right?

 Dear Diary,

There was an incident.  Outside.  On the back patio.  It was twilight and mom and dad were in the back yard doing something with that big pool of water back there.  Suddenly I began to chase a squeaky toy real live birdy friend on the patio and mom freaked out "GRACIE NO!"  she said.  She pushed me inside and then came in and began the interrogation.  "Was it a bird?"  I pleaded the fifth and stared straight ahead.  "Was it a baby bunny?"  I continued to stare straight ahead, ignoring her controlled and angry tone.  Hey.  I'm a dog.  I like squeaky toys and especially if they run fast and make noises.   Mom says I'm trouble.  She's trouble.  Gracie.

It's a Happy Birthday

 

Dear Diary,

Today is Mom's birthday.  She is older than dirt at sixty-one.  Lindsey is taking her out for dinner today and she said I could go  she didn't ask me I hope she brings home a doggie bag for yours truly.   I mean, come on.  Her heart belongs to the dog...   Disregard any gift from Dad of personalized propaganda that you may have witnessed at the beginning of this blog post.   Gracie.