Can A Dog Have 9 Lives Like A Cat?

I really want to know, can dogs have 9 lives like a cat? Miss Daisy Dog, 16, suffering from infirmities of old age, is nearly blind and deaf, arthritic, skinny, beginning stages of renal failure, and incontinent. (My sisters says I should throw in dementia, too.) Even so, when she went missing last night I became a puddle of tears. We have a fenced in backyard, but when the ice is covering the wooden steps it is very treacherous for a blind, deaf, arthritic, skinny, and incontinent dog. Since the big snowstorm December 20 (minus the week of Miss Daisy's free round trip to Texas), I have been letting her out the front door to do her business. Mostly she pees and poos on the sidewalk about 16 inches from the front door. I never let her go out unassisted and unsupervised. Last night while I was in class, the older nephew, who shall remain nameless to protect the clueless, let Miss Daisy out, closed the door, and forgot about her. For like an hour. In the freezing cold. When he finally remembered her, she was gone. He and a neighbor spent the next 1 1/2 hours looking for her until he finally called me to say the dog was missing.  I went berserk. Several neighbors rallied along with my two sons, sister, niece and her posse to look for Miss Daisy until after midnight. I called the Marion police.  Yes, they will take the call (not 9-1-1) and description to BOLO for missing dogs. I called the Humane Society and the city's Animal Control and left messages. And I made up a flyer to post on all the neighborhood community mailbox stations.  I canceled my teaching job for the next day knowing that there was no way I could face 1st graders without breaking into tears.  This morning the nephews stayed an arm's length away and strangely quiet. The younger nephew had lost one of his shoes. Tough, I told him, wear your snow boots all day. Or go barefoot. He chose the snow boots. I was not in a good mood. But the Animal Control called me at noon when they opened and asked me to describe Miss Daisy which fit the description of the shivering dog that a Mr. David Brown found by the dumpster near his apartment about 3 blocks away. He took my poor dog in for the night and called Animal Control and left a message as I did. So my dog is back here at my side, snoring peacefully. And I will wrap it up by passing the words of wisdom one of the neighbors told me before Daisy was found.  "Take it easy on the boys, especially the teenager, because their brains are not fully developed yet," she told me.  Strangely, that did help calm me down.

I will now chronicle some of the other close calls of Miss Daisy Dog.  In her younger, jumpier days, she used to chase cars. She also chased squirrels and deer. Not sure what she would have done with a deer if she caught one. She never had a chance with the squirrels although she was good a pointing and howling to let us know she got one up the tree. Thank goodness she never caught a car. That would have ended badly. 

Then there was the time years ago when my sister-in-law brought over a plate a brownies. A huge heaping plate of brownies. We left them on the kitchen island figuring the cat wouldn't mess with them. We went to a restaurant and when we came home, the empty plate was on the island. I asked my son who had arrived home before us, "Did you eat all the brownies????"  He told us he found the empty plate on the floor so he put it on the island. Oh, no.  Rat terriers are known for having springs on their feet and she sprang up to the bar stool to the counter.  Poor dog spent the night locked in the basement bathroom ridding herself of the chocolate brownies from both ends. We never left food on the island again. Except that time we had a birthday cookie. She even wrangled the plastic covering off before devouring half the cookie. 

Same story when other son left chocolate mints in his bedroom. He said they were on the desk. I think they were on the floor, but I guess if a dog can get on kitchen island she can climb a desk. This time she smelled mintier as she rid herself of the toxic chocolate. 

I managed to keep her safe while living in Mexico, amazingly enough. Her closest call came in Texas. I rarely opened the front door, but one day about 5 years ago I had a furniture delivery. It is was totally my fault for not securing Miss Daisy Dog by locking her in the bedroom. She zoomed out the door and made a beeline for the neighbor's husky that was tied up on the property line. I didn't know the husky was there. I'd still like to know why the neighbors thought it was OK to stake the dog on the property line. The attack happened on my yard. Puffing up her neck hair and yapping shrilly to show off her small dog bravado, Miss Daisy thought she could show she was the boss of her own yard. The husky nearly made a minced meat sandwich out of Daisy.  Two surgeries and $1500 later for the neck and stomach wounds, she still has a hernia protruding from her abdomen. The vet said Miss Daisy was very, very lucky to have survived the attack. 

Now I feel bad about being angry with the nephews. My initial anger was a knee-jerk reaction to the fear of losing beautiful Miss Daisy Dog. But Daisy has had a few close calls over the years, so I have screwed up a time or two or three. I'm sorry I was hard on you both. But if either of you call my dog ugly again and claim it doesn't matter because she can't hear you just one more time, I will put you both outside and forget about you. 

Why I Do Not Own A Gun

I do not own a gun. I have never owned a gun. I will never own a gun.  Why? Well, for starters, I don't hunt. I have a problem with hunting being a sport.  Sports are for pleasure and killing animals for fun is just wrong. If you want to hunt to put food on the table for your family, then go right ahead. Humans have been hunters since the beginning of, well, humans.  I had a friend ask me to go deer hunting with her.  I told her, "Linda, I will go shopping with you, play cards with you, scrapbook with you, but the idea of sitting in a tree waiting for a deer to come along so I can shoot it and gut it does not appeal to me. I would rather have a root canal."

The other argument about owning a gun is for protection.  I have an 8-year-old in the house with curiosity as big as the Mississippi River. No matter how many times I tell the nephew something, he will still do things that drive me crazy. For instance, the other day at Walmart he poked holes in the plastic wrapping of a steak at the meat counter.  I smacked him upside the head because, well, would you buy a steak that had holes poked in the protective wrapping?  I thought he learned his lesson until last Saturday. Yup. The boy genius did it again. If I can't get the kid to keep his cotton-picking hands from poking meat wrappers, how on earth will I keep him away from a gun?  Especially this child that is testosterone-infused by things like the Army, jets, football, baseball, basketball, guns, etc. I could lock up the gun in a safe. Bullets too. I am sure by the time I dial the combination of the safe, find the gun and bullets, load it, and fumble to take the safety off, I will be dead. What good is a gun if I have to keep it locked up?

My last reason for not owning a gun is probably the most important. It is simply too easy to pull the trigger and shoot someone dead. I've been pissed off enough at certain people that I am not so sure if I had a loaded gun nearby, they would still be living.  Beating, stabbing, or strangulation is too up close and personal and requires physical strength. If I were to murder anyone, it would be done with a gun. I'd like to believe I would never actually do it, but I am not taking any chances.  And chances are you are safe at my house.

A Couple of Coronas and a Book Recommendation

When I first moved to Reynosa, I lived alone in an apartment near the school.  One night I was taking out the trash with my ever faithful dog at my side when she gave the intruder alert. And by intruder alert I mean she barked at anything that moved within a block's radius of what she considered her territory.  Sitting on the corner curb were two disheveled men.  I eyed them suspiciously wondering if I should proceed past my gate.  One of the men noticed me and spoke up.  I was a little weaker in the Spanish back then so I replied something like "Esta bien".  In those two little words, I must have given myself away as a gringa (along with my shorts and tank top showing my Iowa white skin). Immediately the taller of the two responded back in fairly decent English.  He told me they didn't mean to scare me and they were just a little tired and hungry and wanted to rest.  I didn't have enough pesos so they could buy something to eat.  I told them to wait and I would bring them some food. I went upstairs and made them both ham sandwiches, a bag of chips, a couple apples, and a bunch of cookies.  I didn't have any soda or anything else to give them to drink except beer so I cut a lime in half and put 4 Coronas in the bag.  I went back outside and the men were waiting by the gate. When they opened the bag, you should have seen the surprised look on both men's faces. It was like they won the lottery.  The English speaking man said, "Wow, two Coronas for me and my friend!"

I suspected at the time that these two men were from somewhere far away and only in Reynosa to cross the river into Texas.  I never saw them again.

Americans have many notions about people who cross our borders without documentation.  One of those notions is they think it is so easy to travel from Mexico to the United States when actually it is a journey that is extremely dangerous. According to the U.S. Border Patrol, nearly 2000 people have died crossing the border between 2007-2011. This figure does not include the thousands more that have died within the borders of Mexico. The poorest of the poor are beaten for any money they may be carrying because their attackers know these immigrants have no recourse.  They're lucky if they are only beaten. For those who have refused to be drug mules, they could end up in mass graves just like the one found near Reynosa a couple years ago. If you are interested in hearing stories about the dangers of immigrants traveling across Mexico into the United States, I recommend a book written by Sonia Nazario called Enrique's Journey.

Dollar General

**UPDATE TO THE UPDATE**  I did get a response and denial of my request which consists mainly of BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, GET LOST YOURSELF:

Dear Ms. Gervais,Thank you for your e-mail. We appreciate the opportunity to review your request and we do hope if Suki has not yet returned that she will soon.  While we do understand the importance of your efforts, regretfully, we must decline Dollar General’s participation. We receive an overwhelming number of requests to place flyers in our stores and since space is limited and we are unable to accommodate every request, it is our policy to only allow Dollar General sponsored flyers and signs in our stores. We appreciate you taking the time to write.  You are a valued customer here at Dollar General.

Kind regards,

Marsha Murrow

Customer Relations Supervisor

Dollar General Corporation

**UPDATE**   Neighbor called in cat sighting and pointed Andrew in the general direction. Andrew was able to pull Suki from the drain by reaching in and grabbing her collar. She's home now and eating like a pig. From this day forward she will be know as SFB (sh!t for brains).  Still no response from Dollar General but I'll give them until tomorrow to see if they have something nice to say.


Dear Dollar General,

I have been a customer at the Marion store at 1135 East Post Road, Marion, Iowa for almost a year.  I moved here last January to care for my nephews, ages 14 and 8, after they became orphaned. Both parents died tragically in two separate car accidents. We're all still adjusting and trying to heal from our situation.  After the death of my sister, my nephews were given a cat which they named Suki.  She is strictly an indoor cat.  We don't know how it happened, but Suki went missing either late October 23 or early on the 24th. We have posted flyers on our community mailbox and the US Post Office has no problem with that.  I went to our nearby Dollar General store to ask the if we could post a flyer.  I've seen flyers there before for missing pets. The clerk said she would call the manager and the manager told her we could not post a flyer.  That seems heartless to me especially since it would not cost Dollar General a dime.  I did not get a chance to speak with the manager or I would have asked what policy does Dollar General have against posting a flyer for a missing pet? It's not as if we are making money like proceeds from a garage sale or advertising for anything. We just want our Suki back.  Many people from the neighborhood shop at this store. We thought it would be a good way to get the word out especially since many of the customers live in nearby apartments and walk to the store. Perhaps they may see our cat while they are walking.  I would also like to add the clerk at the store was very kind and asked for a flyer even though she was not allowed to display it. 

I am writing to you hoping that we will be allowed to put up our flyer. I am sure that under the circumstances I listed above, the manager can be persuaded to reverse his/her decision. I will post updates about Dollar General's response on my blog at http://imustbecrazytoliveinmexico.blogspot.com/ and my Facebook.

I appreciate your prompt attention. Thank you.

Rita Gervais 

Difference Between a Kid Birthday Party In Iowa and Mexico

As the title hints, I took the younger nephew to a birthday party yesterday.  It was one of his classmate's 8th birthday.  And for some reason they decided to host it at a gymnasium in Timbuktu, the other side of the city, so I waited at the party rather than make another 60 minute round trip.  While twiddling my toes and becoming numb while the nerves vibrated up my spine up to the base of my skull from all the screaming, I remembered a few birthday parties in Mexico.

In Iowa, if the printed invitation says the party starts at 3:00, the party really starts at 3:00. And don't be late.  In Mexico, if the word-of-mouth party invitation starts at 3:00, show up at 4:00.  Or 5:00.  Or midnight.

In Iowa, do not even consider bringing along an uninvited guest. In Mexico, bring along your sister, your best friend, her mother-in-law, and the 15 cousins from the next town over.  The more the merrier.

In Iowa, alcohol is strictly verboten at a children's birthday party.  In Mexico, alcohol consumption is encouraged.

In Iowa, food is centered around the children's tastes.  Pizza, pop, hot dogs and cake.  In Mexico, fajitas, tortillas, salchichas, with a load of peel the paint hot salsa is common. Even the kids eat the stuff.  And a piñata.  Does anyone else besides me think it is sadistic to beat the hell out of a papier-mâché princess or Sponge Bob?

In Iowa when the party invitation says the party is over at 5:00, you better be there on time to pick up the child.  If you're 15 minutes late, Child Protective Services may be called to report an abandoned child. In Mexico, the party has just barely started.

Maybe I wouldn't be so cranky about yesterday's birthday party if the host would have offered me a piece of birthday cake.  Or better yet, a beer.

I've Got Tomatoes Coming Outta My Ears

What do you do when all 6 tomato plants start to ripen at once and you are sick of making pico de gallo, salsa, and adding sliced tomatoes to every dish, but you don't want to waste one delicious Iowa tomato?

I made gazpacho with the cucumbers, peppers, and onions from the garden.

I didn't follow any recipe because my name is not Leslie Limon and I can't cook like her even if she had one hand tied behind her back.  You should check out her page because she is a marvel in the kitchen. Anyway, I juiced about 6 large tomatoes and boiled the juice with un poquito de salt until it turned red. After it cooled I added red wine vinegar to taste.  Next I chopped up a couple cucumbers, along with onions,  one jalapeno and red peppers, all from the garden.  With about a 1/4 cup of olive oil, I mixed it all together and let it chill.  Pretty good, even if I say so myself, and I did say so myself.  The nephews cried "EEEEWWWWWW!"

How American Are You?

Many ancestors on my father's side landed here when the Colonies were under British control. My mother's side are recent immigrants.  Who is more American? My father or my mother?  How about my now deceased brother-in-law?  He was born in the Dominican Republic but after 10 years in this country he became a citizen. Was he less American than my sister?  Are there degrees of citizenship?  Are those that hold dual citizenship only 50% American?  Using this type of reasoning some people would argue that Indians are the most American of all.  OK, sorry, I meant to say Native Americans. Most immigrants come here voluntarily unless they were black and born before 1808 when importing slaves was outlawed. Oops, sorry again, I meant Afro-American. How about the children who came here with their parents undocumented?  And they have spent their entire lives in the United States and don't even know their birth country?

Support the Dream Act.

P.S. From now on I will be calling myself a Czech-American and a Pre-United Statesian in honor of my mother and father.