Tuesday, July 6, 2010

The Canine-effected Short Life Expectancy of Plants at Moogie's Mansion

Look at this precious puppy, our Bouligny Voodoo, known more commonly as "Bouie." Valiant hunter. Loving lapdog. This sweet, loyal, fun-loving maelstrom on four gigantic paws!

Last fall, I posted about his character flaw as a plant-unplanter extraordinaire.

This year, he has eased up on the foliage shredding thing, but, through the clever connecting of withered dots, I have discovered a new weapon in his arsenal in the never-ending war against flora: he "waters" them to death.

So far, the body count includes 3 begonias, 3 red salvia, a peetunia (heh -- I crack myself up sometimes), and a boxwood basil, with a geranium and a caladium on life support.

There used to be lots of colorful planters on the steps leading to the front porch of Moogie's Mansion, but now the vacancies produced by attrition (usually accomplished via shattering and/or uprooting) haven't been replaced.

Boy dogs. What can you do but love 'em? And rinse the mint very carefully!


  1. Know whatcha mean. My backyard pretty much looks like the Sahara or the surface of the moon. Nothing green stays alive except a stray dandelion.

    They should dangle my dogs from a helicopter to put out forest fires.

  2. Well, "boy dog..." There's your trouble. I was not considering the male v. female thing when I commented about our "Canine pruned plants" thriving.

    No dogs around here...just bit*&#s. Only had one male hound in all 31 + years of married life...our first. You will probably not believe this, but his name was "Beauregard."

    Beau broke me from owning males...for various reasons.

    Short story...When Pam and I were young married people with no children she would wash her alltogethers, and lay them out on a towel on the bed to dry. One night we came in from work, and Beauregard could not be found. We called for him all over the little house we lived in.

    It was weird. So, Pam walked back into the bedroom, and discovered that all her panties, and girl stuff were disrupted.

    I finally found Beauregard hiding under the bed in the spare bedroom with one strap of Pam's bra hooked around his right foreleg, and one around his left hindleg...and the cups prominently displayed across his torso.

    The dang dog was so ashamed! He'd been caught cross dressing!

    Lord have mercy, did we laugh!!!

  3. She-dogs can be Hell on the flora too. I had one dogette who loved to eat my tomatoes until we solved that problem with electric fencing around the garden. And our yard(s) looked a lot like innominatus', what with all the yellow-brown patches from frequent and repeated watering. Yet we still loved 'em... ALL of 'em. What else can ya do?

  4. Dog-dangling Firefighter -- that sounds like one of those fancy "green jobs" the O keeps yakking about, Inno. You may just have stumbled upon a new, stimulus-funded cottage industry!

    Andy -- cross-dressing dog. Heh. They do embarass easily, don't they?

    I can see those yellow-brown patches from my window, Buck. Our 15 year-old shih-tzu is of the female persuasion and doesn't keep her watering to the perimeter!