Sooo…”Shorty” the Corgi is a new member of our household.

He’s five years old and comes with some ingrained habits from his previous home where we are sure he was spoiled rotten…in a good way anyway.

One is that he LOVES to go walking on a leash…wants to follow the sidewalks all over the neighborhood.

Another is he wants to go with us whenever we go anywhere. He is very familiar with riding in a car and will follow us out and hop in.

Sort of.

He is “Shorty” after all.

A couple days back I headed out to pick up a pizza from the local take-and-bake place.

Shorty wanted to come with me.

He wanders out with me but the wife’s car is gone (she wasn’t home yet).

I stick the key in the door of “Big Iron”…my Texan’s requisite big-ass powerful pick-em-up truck, and open the door.

Shorty looks up…and up. Corgi’s are stout but very low-slung. There was no way he was going to make a leap into that truck. Even Corgi’s have to obey the laws of physics.

He looked at me, then at the truck, then back at me with a bemused expression on his face that clearly said, “Dude. Really? Compensating for something are we?”

This…from a short dog. Sigh.

Of course, once he went for a ride he fell in love with it, his looks clearly saying, “Best. Idea. Ever!”

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer (head Shorty chauffeur and lift engine)

A corgi rescue doggy!

Joining the Meyer Casa next week. He’s off getting neutered, vaccinated, and chipped. He’s a present for the wife from my Mom and should join the household next week.

A tale of the tails of a cat god…

Or something like that.

Alternate title: “Never give a cat a direct order”

So, at the suburban “blah” house, we have a colony of geckos living around the garage door.

We’ve never tried to discourage them as they happily eat pretty much any bug that would otherwise be a household pest.

But we do have cats…and cats, particularly Geronimo, the big orange one, LOVE to hunt geckos.

Geronimo the big orange cat

I don’t startle easily…and am generally not squeamish or easily freaked out…but there is just something odd about having the big orange cat drop a still wiggling gecko tail in your lap while you are sitting in shorts on the couch.

Apparently, gecko tails detach easily as a defense mechanism for just these occasions. The detached tail wiggles for quite some time.

Ten minutes after the first tail was dumped in my lap, here came Geronimo with another. I was able to catch this wiggly tail before he dropped it in my lap.

“Dammit cat! What gives?”

The wife, ever more wise to these sorts of things, tells me that he does this because he likes me.

“You’re probably like some sort of cat god to him.” she says.

A god huh? A cat god.

Hmmm.

I grin, and proceed to say in my loudest, deepest, booming voice, “BAHAHAHA! Hear me cat! Behold the power! Get thee out of doors and deliver unto me the tails of a thousand geckos or verily you shall perish in the pit of despair!”

Ya know… ’cause it seems like just the sort of thing a cat-god would say, yes?

He looked at me funny for a moment so I waggled my finger at him and said, “Don’t make me chisel this into a stone tablet!”

That may have been a tactical error. Over the past days he has made good progress on obeying this somewhat ill-conceived commandment.

I’m up to 22 tails so far…

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer (the cat god)