Davy Crocket's Got Nuthin' on Me!

I looked up to see who was the greatest Hunter ever.  And it was Davy Crocket.  (I'm guessing Daniel Boone's relatives might object, but then, they don't read my blog.)  Anyway, I think I'm just as good as Davy Crocket.  He hunted bear.  Anyone can hunt bear.  Me - I hunt Javelinas.

Mom likes to say, "He's on the track of Heffalumps."  I didn't know what a Heffalump was, but Mom says it was a big, scary animal in Winnie the Pooh.  She said it was the "biggest threat the Hundred Acre Wood ever faced:  Humongous, horrendous horrifying, huggable, Heffalumps."  So, yeah, maybe that's what I am doing.  I'm tracking the Heffalumps of Mohawk Lane.

We walk through the neighborhood and I can smell where they've been.  You see, I've run into at least 10 of the beasts.  So I know what they smell like.  And I have the very best sense of smell.  In fact, I have the most excellent sense of smell of anyone in the whole world ever.  (There is some guy on TV who says things like that, so I can too.!)

Yesterday, I smelled the Heffalump.  And then we saw his footprints.  Mom took a picture so she could prove to Dad that I did really track down the Heffalump.  

See those hoof tracks?  That's the Heffalump (I mean Javelina.  Mom has me so confused.)

Sometimes, when we go out in the afternoon (that's when they roam around) I stop and stare because I think I can smell them near.  Mom gets nervous then, I can tell.  She doesn't really want to run into one of them again.  They're not supposed to be aggressive if you leave them an exit, but if they did come after us --- they have really, really, really long sharp teeth.  We saw them when Mom did the Arizona Wildlife Project for my kids in the elementary school.  Those were some awful front teeth!

But I'm pretty good at warning Mom when they're close by.  My excellent sense of smell helps in that.  Just the other day, we went to the mail box, and I said, Mom, you better look around the side of the boxes.  And sure enough.  There was my HeffalumpJavelina.  But he hid his head before Mom could snap his picture.

I'm good at finding all sorts of denizens of the desert.  (Do you like that word?  Denizen.  I saw it when I was looking for what this was:

 This little guy (well he  wasn't so little, he was as big as Mom's hand) crossed the walking path right in front of us.  I would have stepped on him, but Mom grabbed my collar and yanked me back.  We all watched as he made his way across the path and on to wherever he was going.  Mom and me (that's not right, is it?).  Mom and I looked him up and we found that he was a male Desert Tarantula and not to be worried about 'cuz he was pretty harmless.  He was apparently searching for a mate.  That's pretty much all the males do, and then they all die by October.  How sad is that?    

So there you have my latest hunting episodes.  I bet Davy Crocket would be jealous of all the animals I've tracked down in the desert.  But then, he probably doesn't really care since he's not around anymore.  

But that leaves me as the greatest hunter on Mohawk Lane.  

Mom says I should stop sending these blogs because no one is going to want to come visit us ever.  But I know my Uncle and my Cousin are coming this weekend, and I bet they would LIKE to see my animal friends.

Please don't let our Denizens keep you away.  I love visitors.  

Love, G

Mom Read a Book

Which really shouldn't surprise me (or you) since Mom reads lots of books.  But this one was significant, because she said the character in the book reminded her of me.  

Now, I gotta tell you.  I thought she was going to say it was because the character was so good looking.  Or maybe he was really smart.  Or perhaps he wanted to be President of the United States of America.

But no.  She said the character was a gal.  And this gal was Neuro-A-Typical.  I had to ask her what that meant, so we both looked it up in Google.  It basically means someone who is not normal.

So what is normal?  I asked Mom.  She laughed and said that was a really, really good question; because in today's world, normal got thrown out the window.  I said I didn't see anything being thrown out the window:  Sometimes Mom says things I just don't understand at all.  But she said, that was one of the things that made Ellie (the character in the book) seem like me.  She says I take things literally and sometimes don't know when she's talking in Figures of Speech. 

She said normal in the book meant someone who did not have Asperger's Syndrome.  Ellie did.  But Ellie dealt with the world by making a list of rules to live by.  And that's what Mom said also made her think of me; because she says I live by some of those same rules.

She said, Rule 1 was:  Being Polite is always a good idea.  Well we all know that I'm as polite as they come.  This is me politely asking Mom to take me out.  

And this is me politely letting other puppies have the water before I do:

Another Rule is: Not everyone who is nice to you is your friend.  Mom says Ellie struggled with this rule.  She trusted everyone especially when they were nice to her.  I guess I do that sometimes, too.

I tried to make friends with the owl who came by to sit up in the rafters. I figured the old owl who tries to scare the birds away was harmless, so this owl must be too.  Mom said I should be very careful because owls can be mean.  That's too bad, because I know owls are my Mom's favorite bird.  It must have been hard for her to tell me not to try and play with the owl.

Another way Ellie and I are alike, Mom said, is that sometimes Ellie just didn't feel like she fit in with the rest of the world.  Sometimes when we go to the dog park, I have a hard time playing with other dogs.  They sometimes just ignore me and play with their own friends.  

And sometimes I just don't fit in because I don't fit. (Tee hee!) 

And finally, Mom says Ellie had to learn a lot of things by just making mistakes.  I guess I resemble that a lot.  Remember this mistake?

I haven't had a golf ball for a snack in a very long time.  I guess I learned that lesson.

Mom says you might like "The Seven Rules of Elvira Carr" by Frances Maynard.  She says it was a poignant and hopeful story.  I like that word.  Maybe since I'm like Ellie Carr, I am poignant, too?

Or maybe not.

Love, G