(no subject)
My dog killed a baby bird today, a little fledgling. Dogs will do what dogs will do, but it makes me cry when I see it happen and I have to bury the poor little sod. The baby was hopping around in our backyard, Oliver chases it and I say "NO", so he says "okay mama" (or he would, if he were human) and comes and stands behind me. Of course, then Yoyo decides to take over and grabs the little thing, whilst I scream at him and he ignores me. He is a terrier, I expect nothing less, but it is sad. The second dead baby bird I have found in our backyard in a week. They live in our gutters, and as much as their CONSTANT chirping irritates me, I do not have the hardness of character (when it comes to animals) to move them and risk them falling or being neglected or whatever. I think there will be more and more little birdy murders as they try and fly and end up in our backyard, unsuccessful. I will prevent as many as possible.
My mother is urinating and defecating in her backyard.
Yuck.
The excavator left their house after an hour, leaving their backyard partially dug up, so Graham (potential stepfather) tried his hand at some excavating and failed miserably. Now they have an empty trench where their pipes should be. They cannot use their toilet. My mother is telling me wonderful stories about going outside in the middle of the night and squatting in a corner of the backyard. Of doing horrid dirty things by crouching on the corner of her deck, with her bottom hanging off of the edge. I cannot believe her grottiness. I said "what's wrong with a bucket?!" but... she refuses for some reason. Oh dear.
We have all made our judgements: Tane is much too hot to be involved with Monique. Oh well. He will realise she is horrid, I give it three months, one week, four days. Approximately seven hours and twenty two minutes.