Soft Kitty

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 28, 2010 . 12:04AM

Some mornings, this is how I feel about myself when I look in the mirror, too.

Fighting with Yourself

Good Golly, Miss Molly

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 27, 2010 . 11:41PM

Oh dear. Oh my. Oh good golly.

One of my favorite things about summertime is the storms. The outrageous, amazing, beautiful, loud, house-shaking, booming, scary movie, better wrap yourself in a blanket and have some hot chocolate and snuggle with your honey thunderstorms that hit the South are this wondrous creation that you have to experience to believe. I’ve mentioned my love of the storms while I was growing up in Illinois. There are few things I like better than a good thunderstorm. I like to sit in my car and watch it through the sunroof. Or through the windows of my house. Or if I’m at a house with a screened in porch, that is the bees knees, right there. If a slight breeze is to be had to give me goose pimples, oh goodness, that is about the best to be had.

It’s about my idealized version of heaven.

I do love a good storm.

Not everyone shares my feelings of a storm. No, not everyone.

Not even everyone in my house. The humans are fine with it. Generally, they think of it as a burden to their baseball schedules. Well, with the exception of this human who clearly finds it a delightful slice of life. The turtle and the cat seem to be a-ok oblivious to the storm and think of it as another sound effect to a life of monotony. And 3 out of 4 dogs like to snuggle under the blanket and beg for the hot chocolate.

But that 1 dog…she is an unhappy little noodlehead when it comes to thunderstorms. She’s a much better predictor than the weatherman, bless his heart. I can tell a storm is coming about 45 minutes early. Her ears will perk and the whining starts. She can be in her kennel or in the house.

When she’s out of her kennel, immediately she jumps on the couch and her head goes into my lap. She begs for ear rubbing and looks at me like we are going to die. Right now. She’s serious. Rub her ears because we are going to bite it.

T-minus 20 minutes to storm. Her butt starts to wiggle and she tries to put all 35 pounds of her directly onto my lap.

T-minus 10 minutes to storm. I hear a wailing like that of a banshee who has been caught by a death eater who has just been told this is his last snack and he must om nom nom before lethal injection.

T-minus 3 minutes and counting. She paces the floor like an expectant father while continuing to wail and look at me like I’m a jerk who won’t stop the weather. This includes me looking at her like her voicebox is optional in dogs.

Storm-time. She is back in my lap, shaking like a leaf while I croon to her and whisper all kinds of human soothing noises that dogs don’t understand because, according to my son, “Dogs don’t speak English.” After about 5 minutes, Molly is fine again because, “Oh, hey, it’s just a storm.”

The three tiny dogs are looking at her like, “The big dumb dog just got it, let’s go fight over our chewy!” and the world is again at peace in the house.

1am convenience store run

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . March 19, 2010 . 10:43AM

Last night, Bryan and I were watching movies and passing the time. Lately, there have been a lot of things on my mind and my insomnia has been flaring. Since Bryan also hates to sleep at night, we decided to watch funny movies and pass some hours until our vampiric sensibilities would let us sleep during daytime hours.

After two movies, we realized the error of our ways. We had zero Mountain Dew and no snacks. This called for a run to the Mapco at 1am. The minute the dogs heard me ask Bryan if he wanted to “go” they went nuts. Molly stood by the door, Prue smiled like a madman, and Sophie started running laps around the living room. Each was trying to prove that she was the dog to “go.” Reagan, thankfully, was upstairs sleeping in bed with AJ. Bryan and I watched Sophie lap for a good 5 minutes before we decided that they were all cute. I am such a freaking sucker for these dogs.

This was my mistake.

A large, huge, gigantic mistake. I’m a sucker and I need to stop that.

I loaded the dogs into the back seat and Bryan jumped into the passenger seat. The one thing about late night trips to the nearest Mapco is that the people are always super nice to me. The store is neat and clean and they have a nice amount of food and drink. They aren’t paying me to say that. I really adore that place.

As I was there, I found a pen that had an adorable little onion-headed guy on a pen. I had to get it for AJ. I don’t know why he would want an onion-headed guy on a pen. I just know he’ll love it. Bryan was already checked out and ready to go while I was still browsing at the fountain drinks.

In my quest to become the “best mom ever,” I grabbed a 12-pack of Krispy Kremes for breakfast. When I got to the counter, the sweet cashier looked at me and said, “You know, if you go grab the ones in the case, they are fresh AND they are cheaper.” Oh, lady. You have no idea what you’ve done. She had to void my entire transaction while the man in the business suit (at 1am) rang up his 6-pack and rolled his eyes at me. I picked out sprinkled and iced and chocolate and filled and glazed and you name it. Some little guy is gonna be a happy camper today. Yes he is. AND those donuts were cheaper. I had one when I got home. They were so fresh. I’m gonna buy that cashier a car when I win the lottery. Well, when I play the lottery to win the lottery.

This is where things went wrong. I went to put the purchases in the car and Sophie, Mrs. “let me go let me go let me go let me go”, decided that when my hands were full is definitely the right time to bolt from the car. The other two dogs sat and watched her like she was a rockstar. She went running into the parking lot while I glared at her and threatened her in a hushed tone. Things like “Oh, you are so gonna get it” and “you are the worst dog ever” came from my lips and she disappeared UNDER THE CAR.

Under the freaking dinking car.

I thought I might shake her.

Eventually she came running out like the coward she is and I tossed her into the back seat where the other dogs licked her and kissed her like she was a war hero.

Freaking dog worship.

We were happily on the way home when Prue did it. Prue has the worst gas of any dog I’ve ever known. The windows were up and the weather was chilly. Bryan and I were happy to have Sophie back in the car and be heading back to more comedy with our snacks. Prue let one that was so gross that I think I got sick in my mouth. I popped the windows down and scolded her.

Molly is the only good dog I own.

But I’ll probably let them all “go” again.

I’m a sucker.

This is your cat on drugs…

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . March 1, 2010 . 5:23PM

Our cat, Francis, is nuts. She acts like a dog by following Leon around where ever he might go. When she’s mad she will pummel the garage door and yell what sounds like “Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeon! Leeeeeeeeeeeeeon!” She will also rub on your like you have scent of kitteh all over your body. She’s a little freaky. I’m thinking she might need whatever this cat is having to chill.

Hat tip to icanhascheezburger.com!

ASPCA: I need your help

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . November 1, 2009 . 8:50PM

I rarely ask for things on here (though if you are on twitter, I ask for presents all the darn time). Last night, in the middle of hormonal mood swings, wailing, gnashing of teeth, throwing things, hugging people, eating chocolate and watching late night television, I saw an ASPCA commercial. If you’ve not seen one, don’t.

Really, don’t.

I got emotional and upset and hugged my dogs even closer. The truth of the matter is that animals get the short end of the stick quite often. I have three of the most amazing creatures I have ever met and one smart aleck cat who hates me. Animals are important to me and always have been. If you’ve been reading, you saw what happened when I got attached to the chickens. This has been true for every animal I’ve ever had. Except for Francis. Anyway, I know that there are important diseases and people give money to charity all the time. They don’t want to be harassed into parting with their money for something like animal care and prevention of animal cruelty. I can’t explain to you why this is more important than health care or scientific research, except to say that when I’m sad or hurt, my animals help me more than any human I’ve ever met. They soothe me like nothing else. They understand, listen and hug in a way that I need without judgment. Sometimes, the things that seem unimportant in life are the things that get you through when you need it the most.

With that in mind, I’d like to organize a small donation in the amount of $250 for the ASPCA. This is on my heart and if you can give even $1 per person, I’d make this in no time. If you can give more, you help for those that can’t right now. I’m not giving up until I meet my goal, so the sooner I meet it, the less you have to hear about it. Also, if you have an animal that is important to you, I’d like to hear about him or her.

EDIT: I called the ASPCA, as donations were not showing on the widget, and apparently donations do not show up for TEN days. If you email me the amount donated, I will keep a running tally without divulging your name on the post. Sorry about that.

Running tally: $30