My Barbecue Grill
If Satan were a dog he would look like Killer.
Of the three Bienville fronting houses that back up to my side yard, all three of them have watchdogs. Pertaining to my property, Sheba, an ancient female pit bull, when not napping, guards the back. Killer (my naming), the newest, some version of pit bull, guards the middle, and Watchdog (my naming), a Border Collie mut, guards the front.
I have this miniature barbecue grill. It is not a hibachi. I store it under the house, right across from Killer's territory. Killer does not exactly differentiate all that well between friend and foe. When getting out my grill I can calmly turn my back on Killer only because he is restrained with heavy duty chain in addition to a chain-link fence being between us. Still, that sound of chain dragging across dirt and the rattling of the fence when Killer rushes to defend territory is not calming. I try, sometimes without success, to not yell at Killer, as that only exacerbates his bad attitude. Once in awhile I might try soothing baby talk like--"that's my baby Killer, yesss it is, that's my sweet little Satan from Hell." Such sweet nothings have so far yielded no positive results.
The college basketball team (Oklahoma) that I was hoping would make it here to New Orleans for the Final Four lost it's semi-final game so that's that. I guess I will cheer now for my alma mater but I'm a dropout so maybe that should be al mat. Go you Longhorns, go. And yet, if I had cable I would tonight watch and cheer against those (Lady) Longhorns. Go LSU, go. Temeka Johnson rules.
I'm having to work in Hammond again this week, so I have to leave a little earlier, 5:30 a.m., to meet my boss for the commute. I am not comforted by the small group of guys hanging out across the street in front of my neighbor's house. She is pretty much a squatter over there; there is no electricity, and the plumbing amounts to little more than dripping water in a stained tub; the toilet is not connected to a water source and is only loosely connected to the floor over the sewage line. I was called in once as a consultant a couple of years ago. Supposedly she had twenty-four hours to fix the toilet or would be thrown out. I told her that fixing what existed there in that period of time was a hopeless proposition. I guess the "landlord" did not have the heart to put her out on the street. She doesn't pay rent. She's seventy and her health is not that good. She is an avid reader. We sometimes share books. When her reading glasses break I try to tape them together. I used to be friendly with her companion but he's gone now. She bums money off me and when I'm flush and feeling generous it's no problem, but when she's got that many shiftless guys hanging out on a regular basis and comes asking me for money I feel much like the chump. Someone finally stole those two pieces of wood under the house. I blame those guys over there. It is towards them that I direct my enmity. I hope they start keeping a lower profile.
I've got one word for you: Snausages.
|
If Satan were a dog he would look like Killer.
Of the three Bienville fronting houses that back up to my side yard, all three of them have watchdogs. Pertaining to my property, Sheba, an ancient female pit bull, when not napping, guards the back. Killer (my naming), the newest, some version of pit bull, guards the middle, and Watchdog (my naming), a Border Collie mut, guards the front.
I have this miniature barbecue grill. It is not a hibachi. I store it under the house, right across from Killer's territory. Killer does not exactly differentiate all that well between friend and foe. When getting out my grill I can calmly turn my back on Killer only because he is restrained with heavy duty chain in addition to a chain-link fence being between us. Still, that sound of chain dragging across dirt and the rattling of the fence when Killer rushes to defend territory is not calming. I try, sometimes without success, to not yell at Killer, as that only exacerbates his bad attitude. Once in awhile I might try soothing baby talk like--"that's my baby Killer, yesss it is, that's my sweet little Satan from Hell." Such sweet nothings have so far yielded no positive results.
The college basketball team (Oklahoma) that I was hoping would make it here to New Orleans for the Final Four lost it's semi-final game so that's that. I guess I will cheer now for my alma mater but I'm a dropout so maybe that should be al mat. Go you Longhorns, go. And yet, if I had cable I would tonight watch and cheer against those (Lady) Longhorns. Go LSU, go. Temeka Johnson rules.
I'm having to work in Hammond again this week, so I have to leave a little earlier, 5:30 a.m., to meet my boss for the commute. I am not comforted by the small group of guys hanging out across the street in front of my neighbor's house. She is pretty much a squatter over there; there is no electricity, and the plumbing amounts to little more than dripping water in a stained tub; the toilet is not connected to a water source and is only loosely connected to the floor over the sewage line. I was called in once as a consultant a couple of years ago. Supposedly she had twenty-four hours to fix the toilet or would be thrown out. I told her that fixing what existed there in that period of time was a hopeless proposition. I guess the "landlord" did not have the heart to put her out on the street. She doesn't pay rent. She's seventy and her health is not that good. She is an avid reader. We sometimes share books. When her reading glasses break I try to tape them together. I used to be friendly with her companion but he's gone now. She bums money off me and when I'm flush and feeling generous it's no problem, but when she's got that many shiftless guys hanging out on a regular basis and comes asking me for money I feel much like the chump. Someone finally stole those two pieces of wood under the house. I blame those guys over there. It is towards them that I direct my enmity. I hope they start keeping a lower profile.
- jimlouis 4-02-2003 5:23 am
I've got one word for you: Snausages.
- mark 4-02-2003 8:58 am [add a comment]
- anonymous (guest) 7-24-2003 11:45 pm [add a comment]