Rest easy, Murphy

img_3190My house is now a little less exciting. We have said our final goodbye to Murphy the Excitable Dachshund, a good boy whose body betrayed him at the end.

The decision to set him free was not an easy one, but it was one that was necessary. Our Murphy had left, and the only thing that remained was a shell of the dog who had brought so much joy to our world for more than a decade.

Squirrels will be squirrels

Alright, squirrels. Enough is enough.

I have been accepting of squirrels for a long time. I get that plenty of folks don’t like them. But I find them somewhat entertaining, and I am willing to let them take part in my feeders. In fact, I adopted my father’s approach on this: Call them squirrel feeders, and then you are pleasantly surprised when birds show up.

Dog day afternoon (and morning and evening)

My wife and I are dog people. We had a cat for a long time, and she was the most evil creature the world has ever put forth. We kept her for the entire 18 years of her life, despite many people over the years suggesting we get rid of her. We could not do that, as she was our cat, and even though she may have made us question our sanity at times, we had a responsibility. And part of that responsibility, apparently, was to randomly get attacked by a mewling ball of rage as we sat on the couch watching TV.

The possum king

Sometimes, you’re just where you’re supposed to be in life.

I was off to my local grocery store recently, as I was hunting and gathering for the night’s spaghetti and meatball dinner. I parked and headed into the store. As I approached the entrance on the right side of the store, I noticed there was a barricade of carts blocking off the entrance. Odd, I thought. Perhaps the door was broken. Perhaps a customer had dropped a jar of Newman’s Own spaghetti sauce, and the staff was cleaning it up, and it was the last jar of fire roasted tomato and garlic and thus I was not only going to be inconvenienced but spaghetti and meatball night would be just ruined.

When the Backup Wingman steps up

My son and I find a lot of critters together. It’s what we do when we have free time. We go out and find cool stuff.

We’ve snagged possums off of our fence. I’ve held him by his ankles and lowered him into a hole to rescue a broad headed skink. We’ve engaged a team effort in catching a very terrified bird that was in a sunroom, catching it and releasing it outside.

Captain Hook

I’m not sure what hurt my son more: The fact that his sister caught a fish before him, or the hook in his hand.

Oh, wait. Yes, I do. It was the hook. Definitely the hook.

It happened while surf fishing recently. Both of the kids had their fishing poles rigged up and baited with some delicious mullet. I had a blanket spread out on the beach and was prepared to enjoy the sunset and read a book because, let’s face it, the only time we’ve ever come close to catching our limit would be if the limit was zero.