Daily Drama 36

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Daily Drama 36

Can you hear my printer in the background? That’s the sound of my first Combined Federal Campaign (CFC) application, popping out, page by page, ready for signature. Incorporating as a Non-Profit Organization has been an adventure, and mostly a boring one. But I want to keep doing what I am doing, and this is the best way to do it. That’s enough of that. Let’s look at the fun stuff.

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“There’s a tiny snake eating my face off!”

Let’s be honest. Most of you are here to see silly pictures of Dobby. No doubt about it, he is a major force around here. Long before Dobby, though, I was taking in castoff pets. I have been the “Go-To Girl” for transitional pets for over 40 years. Fortunately, I know how to say “No, thank you!” and I re-home many little critters that come my way. I still seem to end up with a lot of drifters, though.

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“I disapprove of this morning’s offerings.”

Because Dobby is such a charming animal, and SO well behaved, he has brought a lot of attention to my little pet collection. Initially, I thought to exclude him from the “umbrella” of my non-profit organization. In fact, every single donation that has come in can be traced to him. I grit my teeth and repeat my mantra every time I clean up a masterpiece in the kitchen. “Thank you, oh Evil One.” Yes, here is Mr. Charm himself, sharing bird seed with Penguin the hen. He does love his hens.

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Lula is a couple years younger than Miss Penguin, but she has been having “spells” off and on since early last summer. She was in The Infirmary for a couple months, but a daily dose of Metacam has her out cavorting with the flock again. She’ll be on drugs for whatever her forever is.

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Lula, foreground; the ubiquitous Carmen Miranda, background.

Norman is in Full Honk again, spring being what it is. I’m seeing pairs of birds, birds with beaks full o’ straw, because we’re only a few days before St. Patrick’s Day. I know that isn’t officially the first day of spring, but around here, things start hopping coincidentally with the Wearing of the Green.

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Norman keeps his eye on that pair of mallards on the edge of the pool. “Back off! HONK!”

When I agreed to take in a flock of doves, I knew that population control would be important. I swear I just collected eggs two days ago. No wonder there were more than 20 doves at the time I received them!

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Six dove eggs and two pigeon.

Here’s little Carmen Miranda, again. She’s one of those sticky birds who is always underfoot. Seriously, I can’t take a step without checking where she is. She is convinced she is more special than the others: first one out of the aviary, last one to return in the evening.

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Jello, the busybody hen, and Carmen Miranda. Princess Carmen is enjoying the dregs of Dobby’s warm bath water.

The next photo is actually the before picture, with Prince Dobalob in his hot tub. Carmen is lurking in the background, waiting for Dobby to wander away.

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The Bartender has upgraded his orange peeling technique so they look nicer in the photos.

I know you want to see more Dobby photos, so he’s going to show you a couple of his toys.

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Dobby’s morrillo.

Dobby is quite territorial, so he marks everything, including me. He marks with urine wherever he walks. He poops strategically, surprisingly most ends up in his pen, the ultimate territory. But, of course, also the kitchen. But mostly he marks with his morillo, the hairless waxy area on the top of his snout nose.

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Dobby’s Big Apple, hanging on the apple tree, of course.

He especially likes this new one, a deflated punching bag. If you’ve never shopped at Goodwill Outlet, I highly recommend it. Put on some old clothes, grab a pair of vinyl disposable gloves, borrow somebody else’s car, and see how much (I’m talking VOLUME here, like cubic yards . . . ) crapola you can get for 20 bucks. It is sold by weight.

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My new punching bag is SWELL!

The grass is starting to grow, and every year I try to get my mudhole of a back yard to look like my front yard. Until then, Dobby and I spend a lot of time in the front. We’re expecting a major deluge this weekend, so I will be hiding out in that little greenhouse back there. And Dobby will be grazing, rain or shine.

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Dobby’s Front Yard

 

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