I just spent about an hour in the middle of a "gunfight." [and do forgive me if this rambles- I'm sleep deprived!]
An old-west, Clint Eastwood-ish gunfight.
You know how in those older flicks, the camera seems to be standing between the two gunmen (no clue how they both miss 2 guys; camera operator and boom mic operator- when they draw and fire....) and the camera switches views back and forth catching the little twitches, expressions, tics and anxieties of the two that are duelling?
The viewer sees every bead of sweat, the twitch of the eyes, the sun-burnt leather of the skin and unshaven faces....dirty western gear and desolate streets with tumbleweeds. The camera shifts from one gunslinger to the other- back and forth, back and forth, building tension....can you see it?
Well, I was in the position of the camera...... between the "Pointy-eared Siamese" gang...and the "New Sheriff" in town: "Big Woof."
For anyone not caught up on the goings-on in our house; Hamilton came home with us tonight. It's been a long weekend of flying and driving to get him from TN- and we got inside and I set him down and off he went to explore. He came from the kitchen into the living room and Bushi had heard us come in and had come downstairs thru the hall and foyer and was headed into the living room from the opposite direction.
You guessed it. Nose to nose. Boy, was Bushi not happy. I didn't even see him leave he went so fast. Poor Hamilton was sitting there rather bewildered about what just happened. I could just hear him like some little kid with a lisp; "I tawt I taw a puddy tat, mom, I did....?"
As we're doing housebreaking and settling Hamilton in....I'm bunking on the floor as Hamilton is not, and will not be, allowed on the furniture. Ever. I won't be able to move a stubborn 200+ dog from anything- so he's not learning now. He's still small (7 weeks) and these are his first nights away from his mom and littermates and so in an effort to ease him into solo-dogdom....as we don't want him up all night crying and howling- so I'm keeping close to him.
I set up a bed for myself on the floor between my bedroom and our master bath- laying across the doorway on a stack of sleeping bags, blankets, etc. Hamilton's bedding is just inside the bathroom on the travertine floor....where he can't do much damage if he has an accident. So, I'm laying there next to my side of the bed, near the doorway so if he tries to come out, he has to crawl over me....and I roll over the other direction and face my bedroom.....and come eye to eye, nose to nose...with Goonie.
I had settled in with Hamilton to go to sleep as I've been going berserk for 4 days to get him here- I didn't even realize I was in such a position- I rolled over and Rangoon was behind me, standing on hind legs, like a grizzly bear- with big, gold, wide-eyes, and a very uptight expression on his face. (Can't you see the sweaty brow and twitchy trigger finger?)
Nevermind the other 1,999 square feet in the house- both cats need to be in close proximity to the 2 square feet (and growing!) that Hamilton currently occupies!
Bushido was about 4 feet behind Rangoon when I rolled over....and Bushi was looking equally somber. These two outlaws were NOT HAPPY about the new lawman that has come around....and really they are in WAY over their little masked faces with this as they have NO IDEA that "Big Woof" is going to be 200+ pounds here in the coming months.
Hamilton is an absolute bumbing idiot at this point- as all puppies are- and just has this goofy "who me?" look on his face all the time like some gullible little twerp in grade school that all the kids pick on and he's just too happy-go-lucky to let it bother him. Little dork.
That little goofy/nerd kid (think Tobey MacGuire in the first Spiderman, pre-bug-bite) but in the spotted suit with the pink nose that the cats are thinking about picking on ...is going to be the one that comes back the following fall looking like an Arnold Schwarzenegger body double- and who hopefully won't hold a grudge.
The Pointy-eared Siamese boys have been ducking in and out between the legs of the bed, and the chair, and behind a couple of boxes of paperwork left from the migration of my office.
Big Woof was sitting in the doorway of the bathroom with a ridiculous grin on his face, looking like a kid on his first day at a new school, dressed like a nerd- and with no clue that he was going to get pummelled if he left the safety of the bathroom and tried to navigate the darkness outside the doorway and beyond where I lay- not sleeping.
I tried so hard not to laugh. Goonie really looked as if he'd found the Anti-Christ. Freddie Kruger. Jason in his hockey mask. My mother. Just all these horrible and terrifying things you can come face to face with- Goonie was absolutely petrified. Bushi- on the other, hand, was plotting. Is plotting. I can see this playing out like "Karate Kid" or something- but the problem is that if Bushi's not careful- he's going to pick a fight with a dog that could realistically make him into a pile of furry and interestingly marked mashed potatoes in a few months.
The cats have been circling, and angling....ogling and making themselves scarce when Hamilton moves or utters one of his silly and boyish "yips". The whole thing plays out like a western...or a gang movie...or something bad enough to hire Kim Baysinger in it.
I suppose it didn't help my active imagination that the Pointy-Eared Siamese gang both have masks....and a propensity to sit and glare when displeased. Bushido is actually sitting at my feet, glaring at the sleeping puppy- as if he wished it to vanish into thin air due to his laser-beam gaze.
I knew some of this was coming- but I guess I didn't figure on (or I'm too tired to care) how ticked-off Bushi is. I had called to Bushi from downstairs when I was hanging up coats....and I really swore; with my very close mental and emotional ties to Bushido- that I heard him utter some pretty foul language telling me I could take my sing-song sweet calling to him and, well, shove it.
These poor cats. They've had the run of things so much- and they have ruled the roost. However, Hamilton is now here....and he's going to clean up these two outlaws....and show them who is boss.... That is, as soon as he can walk without tripping over his own four oversized feet.
An old-west, Clint Eastwood-ish gunfight.
You know how in those older flicks, the camera seems to be standing between the two gunmen (no clue how they both miss 2 guys; camera operator and boom mic operator- when they draw and fire....) and the camera switches views back and forth catching the little twitches, expressions, tics and anxieties of the two that are duelling?
The viewer sees every bead of sweat, the twitch of the eyes, the sun-burnt leather of the skin and unshaven faces....dirty western gear and desolate streets with tumbleweeds. The camera shifts from one gunslinger to the other- back and forth, back and forth, building tension....can you see it?
Well, I was in the position of the camera...... between the "Pointy-eared Siamese" gang...and the "New Sheriff" in town: "Big Woof."
For anyone not caught up on the goings-on in our house; Hamilton came home with us tonight. It's been a long weekend of flying and driving to get him from TN- and we got inside and I set him down and off he went to explore. He came from the kitchen into the living room and Bushi had heard us come in and had come downstairs thru the hall and foyer and was headed into the living room from the opposite direction.
You guessed it. Nose to nose. Boy, was Bushi not happy. I didn't even see him leave he went so fast. Poor Hamilton was sitting there rather bewildered about what just happened. I could just hear him like some little kid with a lisp; "I tawt I taw a puddy tat, mom, I did....?"
As we're doing housebreaking and settling Hamilton in....I'm bunking on the floor as Hamilton is not, and will not be, allowed on the furniture. Ever. I won't be able to move a stubborn 200+ dog from anything- so he's not learning now. He's still small (7 weeks) and these are his first nights away from his mom and littermates and so in an effort to ease him into solo-dogdom....as we don't want him up all night crying and howling- so I'm keeping close to him.
I set up a bed for myself on the floor between my bedroom and our master bath- laying across the doorway on a stack of sleeping bags, blankets, etc. Hamilton's bedding is just inside the bathroom on the travertine floor....where he can't do much damage if he has an accident. So, I'm laying there next to my side of the bed, near the doorway so if he tries to come out, he has to crawl over me....and I roll over the other direction and face my bedroom.....and come eye to eye, nose to nose...with Goonie.
I had settled in with Hamilton to go to sleep as I've been going berserk for 4 days to get him here- I didn't even realize I was in such a position- I rolled over and Rangoon was behind me, standing on hind legs, like a grizzly bear- with big, gold, wide-eyes, and a very uptight expression on his face. (Can't you see the sweaty brow and twitchy trigger finger?) Nevermind the other 1,999 square feet in the house- both cats need to be in close proximity to the 2 square feet (and growing!) that Hamilton currently occupies!
Bushido was about 4 feet behind Rangoon when I rolled over....and Bushi was looking equally somber. These two outlaws were NOT HAPPY about the new lawman that has come around....and really they are in WAY over their little masked faces with this as they have NO IDEA that "Big Woof" is going to be 200+ pounds here in the coming months.
That little goofy/nerd kid (think Tobey MacGuire in the first Spiderman, pre-bug-bite) but in the spotted suit with the pink nose that the cats are thinking about picking on ...is going to be the one that comes back the following fall looking like an Arnold Schwarzenegger body double- and who hopefully won't hold a grudge.
The Pointy-eared Siamese boys have been ducking in and out between the legs of the bed, and the chair, and behind a couple of boxes of paperwork left from the migration of my office.
Big Woof was sitting in the doorway of the bathroom with a ridiculous grin on his face, looking like a kid on his first day at a new school, dressed like a nerd- and with no clue that he was going to get pummelled if he left the safety of the bathroom and tried to navigate the darkness outside the doorway and beyond where I lay- not sleeping.
I tried so hard not to laugh. Goonie really looked as if he'd found the Anti-Christ. Freddie Kruger. Jason in his hockey mask. My mother. Just all these horrible and terrifying things you can come face to face with- Goonie was absolutely petrified. Bushi- on the other, hand, was plotting. Is plotting. I can see this playing out like "Karate Kid" or something- but the problem is that if Bushi's not careful- he's going to pick a fight with a dog that could realistically make him into a pile of furry and interestingly marked mashed potatoes in a few months.
The cats have been circling, and angling....ogling and making themselves scarce when Hamilton moves or utters one of his silly and boyish "yips". The whole thing plays out like a western...or a gang movie...or something bad enough to hire Kim Baysinger in it.
I suppose it didn't help my active imagination that the Pointy-Eared Siamese gang both have masks....and a propensity to sit and glare when displeased. Bushido is actually sitting at my feet, glaring at the sleeping puppy- as if he wished it to vanish into thin air due to his laser-beam gaze.
I knew some of this was coming- but I guess I didn't figure on (or I'm too tired to care) how ticked-off Bushi is. I had called to Bushi from downstairs when I was hanging up coats....and I really swore; with my very close mental and emotional ties to Bushido- that I heard him utter some pretty foul language telling me I could take my sing-song sweet calling to him and, well, shove it.
These poor cats. They've had the run of things so much- and they have ruled the roost. However, Hamilton is now here....and he's going to clean up these two outlaws....and show them who is boss.... That is, as soon as he can walk without tripping over his own four oversized feet.
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