Posts Tagged ‘Pets’

Surprise Surprise, I have a guest blogger for you today. I begged and begged and then I copied and pasted an email  she gave in. Tracy’s Topics presents to you the mother of a gorgeous little future son in law boy, always entertaining over a cup of fake-arula, more exciting than 7de Laan: my friend Supachick!! {we met on the interwebz and neither of us is a psycho killer… maybe}

Picture the scene… 

I pop home for lunch (since work and home are around the corner I can now do that!).  I’m sitting in the lounge watching TV and Leo (the FAS cat) keeps “digging” under the couch cushions.  So I recon there’s a moth or something that’s flown in that he’s trying to get to, and move the cushions.  Don’t see anything.  Put his (more) odd (than usual) behavior down to sniffing the deo can fumes that I had sprayed earlier and carry on watching TV.

 Next thing I see is a mole marching along the top on the couch and Leo head diving into the coffee table whilst trying to get to it.

 So…. That was the end of my quiet lunch in front of the telly.  Leo got exiled and I attempted to rescue the poor creature (the mole not the cat!).  Of cause, I know from past experience that they bite f@##$%#$ sore (don’t ask) so don’t actually wanna touch the thing.

I didn’t reach my goal in the end, closed all the windows and will re attempt this act before going to collect the other creature from school. 

Now, stop laughing, clean the tea off the PC Screen and get back up off the floor.  What did YOU do in your (non lunch time) lunch break?


Update later the day via text sms email:  

“after slaving at my desk for a further 2 hours, panic stricken over the life of the poor mole, I rush home to continue the rescue mission.  After searching high (well as high as I can get on my less than 1 full meter legs!) and low for said mole, I was about to give up the search when I thought he might be behind the fridge.  On the way to the fridge (still on hands and knees) I see the object of my desire…. My Rescue mission has just turned in to a recovery mission 😦 

Sadly Mr (I have no idea of the actual gender, nor do I have any over whelming desire to find out) Mole passed away sometime in the afternoon – cause of death?  Drowning via cats water bowl.”

And THAT Alanis, is IRONIC.

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Mollie has 5 Puppies!

Never got round to updating on Mollie’s mommy status: She eventually had 5 puppies. Not one died. And we’re still debating paternity.
There are 3 dogs and 2 bitches. One pup looks like Mollie; white with brown spots. 2 are white with brown/black ears; and 2 look like Klonkie, the Fox Terrier/Jack Russel cross on the farm (Meulsteenberg) – white with black spots. We’re keeping one of the black dogs. I just have to have Mollie fixed as soon as she’s weaned them.

Here are some pics.

click for more pics

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Ai, die Mollie darem. Dis nou ons ‘waghond’. Sy’s ‘n kort-been Jack Russel; ten minste, dis nou wat die teler gesê het. Veearts het gelag toe hy dit hoor.

Nouja, uit die bloute daag Rickus (Henk se neef ) en sy Ma op. Hy kom haal die elf kuikens wat hy vir ons moet groot maak. Die vorige lot het almal aan natuurlike oorsake omgekom; albeit ‘n uil, kraai, katte of Mollie. Van die nuwe spulletjie is daar net ses oor.
Vir ‘n slag werk die noodlot in my guns en het Haandrik-haan en kuikens solank by die stoep ingekom terwyl ek troon toe is. Maak nie saak waarvandaan ek kom nie; of ek gou by bure ingeloer het of twee ure op die pad was nie, as ek by die huis kom, roep natuur my.
Intussen klop neef aan en vra oor kuikens. Gryp toe sommer my ou draadloos se karton doos en prop kuikens in. Ons tel net vier. Waar is die ander twee heen… seker opgevreet deur ‘n ongedierte.

Ek sit solank bietjie boeretroos aan, plak die boks toe en maak lug gate. Hier hoor ek tjiep, tjiep-tjiep. Roep Rickus om kuiken te vang, maar Mollie wen. Sy was eerste daar toe sneuwel ‘n kiepie. Vet pakslae later hoor ek wéér tjiep-tjiep . Híérdie keer kry Rickus die kuiken gevang – boks toe.

Nou sit ounooi se honne by die hek en salk met bewysstuk A gevlek op haar poot – hoender bloed. Sies; stout hond.

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