So I've mentioned before that our Golden Retriever, Rosie, is the Biggest Sissy on the Planet. At least when it comes to SOME things, such as loud unexpected noises.  MORE Mojo! »

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Rosie, our Golden Retriever, is the nicest dog on the planet. She is also the biggest sissy I have ever met. So much so that the tiniest thing will traumatize her for days. Such as the cruelty I inflicted this weekend.  MORE Mojo! »

Well, in retrospect it's not Rosie's fault. Just that, when one is feeling rather barfy, so you decide at seven in the evening to go to bed, even though your Favorite Husband won't be home until eight or so, and you drag your weary barfy body up the stairs in preparation for the collapse, and you get to the bedroom and you turn on the light....  MORE Mojo! »

One might think, given her trenchant wit and shrewd commentary, that Mojo is a particularly observant and discerning individual. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Take, for example, the dog, Rosie. Okay, so Mojo DID observe various behaviors and indicators that something was not quite right. Enough that Mojo initiated a trip to the vet to have things checked out. A battery of expensive tests revealed that she had Lyme disease and a previously undiagnosed heart murmur. Cardiac malformations are apparently common in some Goldens, I am somewhat saddened to learn.  MORE Mojo! »

Mojo has not always been the tired, embittered fool you see before you now. No, at one time in her life, all dewy-eyed and pigtailed, full of girlish dreams, she was once happy and care free.

Not. Any. More.

What drove Mojo from skipping girlhood to the monstrous shell of a human being she has become? Well, I wouldn't tell just anyone, mind you, but just between you and me, kind random internet stranger, I will reveal the source of my sorrow.  MORE Mojo! »

So this morning I am bopping around, doing my morning computer things, when the dog and the cat both come piling into the dog door like the Three Stooges minus one. And Rosie, the more demonstrative of the two, runs to the dining room and starts staring wildly at something out the window, so I figure something's up.

Sure enough, there's a moving black form between the garden fence and a line of an impenetrable thicket of blackberry briars. A bear. And I'm still in my bathrobe.  MORE Mojo! »

Instead of posting anything new and worthwhile, I will just point out that blackberry season is in full swing, so I shall repost my video of Rosie stealing them from me.  MORE Mojo! »

I can remember the first time I saw a wild turkey. We were renting a house in the middle of an industrial park--sort of this island of woods and fields in the middle of this huge airport industrial park, maybe half a mile from the airport. We had this very long half-a-mile driveway, and we were on our way out--the driveway dumped us in the middle of an aerospace contractor's parking lot--when we encountered this huge bird sitting in the middle of our driveway. It was way too big and ugly to be one of our chickens, and not ugly enough to be a turkey vulture.  MORE Mojo! »

Attention all burglars: I may have alluded to this before, but in case there is any confusion allow me to reiterate: Mojo has THE WORST WATCHDOG on the face of the earth. It is to the point that, when I hear a car in the driveway, I look over at Rosie snoozing away in her bed and I say "Okay, someone's here. How long will it be before you notice?" Generally speaking they have to be walking in the house before she'll get up. I've come in and hung my coat up and flipped through the mail and checked for messages, and then finally shouted, "Okay, I'm here! I think I'll rob the house!" before I finally hear her rise up from her bed and come look at me through the balcony railing. Not come DOWN, mind you, until I ask her to--no, she'd just stand there wagging her tail if I didn't insist she come greet me properly. (And you think MOJO's lazy!)

Of course this is not the case when my Favorite Husband comes home. Oh, no, heaven forfend! Him coming home involves some sort of national holiday, the shameless flirt. Yay! Daddy's home! He's SO much more fun than Mojo, the woman who FEEDS me and BRUSHES me!

So anyway. Lately I've been waking up around three or four in the morning. I'm sure this is NOT due to perimenopause, as one friend has suggested, but instead due to a combination of my going to sleep around eight in the evening and living the vibrant, exciting lifestyle Mojo so enjoys. But since my Favorite Husband needs his beauty sleep, I tend to sneak out of the bedroom and bop quietly around downstairs until he happens to get up, which is around five. Early on I tried to get the dog to come with me, but she is such a slugabed I usually don't try anymore.  MORE Mojo! »