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Showing posts from June, 2019

ZEPHYR: old but not moldy

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We thought this was Zephyr's last day. He's become rail thin yet he wasn't giving any outward signs of suffering.  Sure, he's blind and deaf, and his nose droops because he hasn't any teeth.  To us, that's not a reason to euthanize a family member, especially one that has been part of our family since 2000.
Off we went to Dr K. 
"Old dogs are thin," Dr K reassured us.  He found a heart murmur (graded at a 4) that wasn't present a month ago but even this wasn't sound reason.  "Is he eating?"
Is he eating? Holy cow!  This wild Iggy learned his new schedule and begins whining Feed Me Seymour antics if we run late. "Yes, eagerly," I reply.
We shrugged at Dr K and he shrugged back.  He wouldn't think poorly of us if we decided to euthanize but he also wouldn't think poorly of us if we took the old dog home.  Zephyr could have a week, or a month, or six months.  It's impossible to tell.
We left feeling more comforta…

WAR OF THE WORLDS: or why cicadas are assholes

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Ever wonder what Ohio sounds like during the summer? Look no further than the classic War of the Worlds.

The lower thrum and high pitched buzz (minus the intermittent warble and blaster fire) drone on from sunrise to dusk out here, and are somewhat reminiscent of this movie's sound effects. 
I know I've made references to this movie (and the remake) before.  It was only March of last year that I ran nostalgic (nostalchick?) about War of the Water Towers (or how Big Things with More Than Two Legs scare the shit out of Humanity's offspring). My mind probably wouldn't have drudged up these these movies again were it not for the cicadas.
The Ohio Valley is cicada wonderland.  My own little town, cradled by tree-filled hills and pressed against the Ohio River's western shore, provides a critter haven for things that walk, swim, or fly. They, like us humans, probably wish a prompt extinction to all cicada kind.  It's not hard to imagine a young Bambi pressing his…