Angel Jake at the RBC (Rainbow Broadcasting Corporation)

Angel Jake at the RBC (Rainbow Broadcasting Corporation)

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Mom, Can't You Keep a Neater House???

Gee, Mom, do I have to do everything around here??? Just Harry

Note from Mom: We left the Boyz alone for a few hours yesterday evening and returned to find that JH had been busy remodeling the living room, carving a cozy little niche for himself!!!

Sunday, October 11, 2009

There is No Joy in Mudville -- Our Cardinals and Our Pals' Red Sox Wuz Swept...

(A Ballad of the Republic. Sung in the Year 1888).

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair.
The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that --
We'd put up even money now with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake.

And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat.
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Johnnie safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;

It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place,

There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;

Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,

And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped --
"That ain't my style," said Casey.
"Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, bleak with people, there went up a muffled roar,

Like the beating of the storm waves on a worn and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone in the stands,
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;

He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered fraud;

But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,

And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;

He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball and now he lets it go,
now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh! somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

The band is playing somewhere and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out.


Jake and Just Harry, consoling our hoomans (and our pals in Master Chew Sits) as best we can.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Training Mom

Yesterday we were here alone with Mom, doing what we often do while she works: running up and down the hallway and barking our heads off at the slightest noise from outside: car next door, UPS truck, neighbor pounding on his roof, FEDEX truck, people talking, someone walking behind our backyard...

This time, when we had found a gazillion things to bark at over the course of the afternoon, she got up from her chair and rattled off a series of her stop barking words -- but in an exceptionally loud and insulting tone:




And when none of that worked, she got in our faces and pointed her index finger (kind of the way Bill Clinton does when he wants to make a point) at us and shouted JAKE SIT!!! HARRY SIT!!!

Well, usually we comply -- but you know, this time she was so *&^$#@ annoying that I looked at JH and he looked at me and we turned tail, walked away, and went upstairs to sit on our favorite steps until she calmed down,

That'll show her!!!

[Mom here: They had such a human reaction, they cracked me up and I still laugh when I think about how they looked just walking away from that irritating situation.]