Archive for September, 2013

I Think What We Really Need Is a Roadrunner And a 500 Lb. Acme Anvil…

So, lest you think that life is all cornbread and roses out here in this beautiful little hamlet, let me tell you about the latest BIG AWFUL STUFF we have going on here in the Buckle:


Ok, granted, we had them in the tony ‘burbs of Brentwood, too (ironically, that post was written two years ago, almost to the day! I have no idea what that means.) but it appears these country coyotes are traveling in packs, which as you know, is never good…

There have been many, many sightings, as well as an alarming number of pets missing around here. I’ve personally seen two– one in broad daylight, and the other one at night, skulking waaay too close to the edge of our property line. Last night around 9, I got a phone call from Shirley (you’ll meet her another time, I’m trying to tell a story here) and she told me horrible tales about brazen coyotes venturing up on porches, having to be chased out of yards and a neighbor up the street whose Yorkie was shredded right in front of him.

She actually used the word “SHREDDED,” people. TWICE.

Well, that’s all my girls needed to hear. We knew the dogs would be safe in the kitchen as always, but they unanimously decided that our resident porch cats would have to spend the night inside the house, which was an idea that neither the cats nor I were crazy about. But Madi insisted that since her room is right off the front porch where they sleep, if she woke up to the sound of cats being shredded she would probably need intensive therapy for life, and hey, college tuition is high enough so we can’t be doing that. I reluctantly agreed, and she hopped in the car to head to WalMart to purchase litter pans. We set the two girl cats up in the downstairs half-bath, and relegated Norman to Madi’s bathroom. Ol’ Normie settled in pretty quickly, after sizing the situation up and realizing that a) it was nice and warm and b) he had a bed, a water bowl and food in there with him. So he was all, “Yeah, I’m good, I’ll just be going to sleep now.”

The girl cats on the other hand, were NOT HAVING IT. The lovely BC (which as you know stands for ‘rhymes with witch’ cat) was particularly vocal about it– and though she may look like a glamour puss…


…she actually sounds more like this:

So, yeah– not pleasant to listen to. And Porch Cat basically decided that she needed to explore every square inch of the bathroom to see if there was any way out, which resulted in this:

Norman had a relatively uneventful night, unless you count the veritable EXPLOSION of STINK he (halfway) deposited in the litter box, which assailed my nostrils at 6:30 this morning when I tiptoed into Madi’s bathroom to let him out. May I just say that I think I deserve some kind of humanitarian award for cleaning up cat diarrhea before I even had coffee. Apparently Norman’s stress level manifests itself in his bowel area, and his aim is, shall we say, less than accurate. (And if you know me and my hair-trigger gag reflex at all, you know I have caved under far less pressure.)

Add to this the fact that after numerous futile phone calls to numerous state agencies and private critter control people ($550 dollars to set a few traps up in my yard for 5 nights only, whether you catch any or not? Really, critter control people??), and you will understand why this animal-loving pacifist blonde has now morphed into a steely-eyed, potential coyote-killing blonde.

Except for, you know,  I don’t believe in have any guns. And I wouldn’t know how to shoot them if I did, so basically I would be about as effective as this:

However, this is rural Tennessee for crying out loud, so I should be able to find any number of armed, ready and willing Duck Dynasty-types who would love to take out a few coyotes, right? One would think so. But remember, this is also a town chock full of gentle artists, musicians and creative types, so it might possibly be harder than I think to round up a coyote posse… Nah, I guarantee nobody around here wants their pets to go missing or even worse, see them *shudder* SHREDDED in front of them. I know I sure don’t.

I mean seriously, who in the world can stand the thought of these sweet faces staring at you from the back of a a milk carton?

As much as I hate to admit it,  apparently having a predator threaten my furry loved ones has forced me to go rogue.

 So yeah, coyotes… game on.

Wordless (-ish) Wednesday

(OK, who are we kidding, when have you EVER known me to be ‘wordless’?)

So several times a year, Billy Phillips of Bell Buckle’s own Phillips General Store completely redecorates his two front windows. This is kind of an occasion around here. Billy sends out invitations, and we all gather around the front sidewalk in front of the store for the ‘unveiling.’ They always have a theme, and they are always fabulous. This time, the theme was Murder Mystery, so the windows were all tricked out with vintage detective magazines, a dagger, a pistol, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys books, a flashlight and all manner of gothic, mysterious things. Billy even staged a little murder mystery Clue game before he opened up the doors. (Apparently the dirty deed was done in the study, by his mother, with the same frying pan she uses to make her famous chocolate pies over at the Bluebird ice cream shop– who knew?) It was great fun, and gave me another excuse to take pictures inside his ridiculously photogenic store. You guys should all totally come to Bell Buckle and check it out.

I’ll start with Billy in the window getting things ready a couple of days before the open house, throw in a shot of Madi’s beau and I perusing the display, and then show you the store. I also added (per request) some shots of my almost-but-not-quite-finished dining room. And a completely gratuitous picture of Fall in Tennessee, because it’s glorious…

This concludes the “Wordless” section of Wordless Wednesday.

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