We Could all be Dead Soon.

Everything seems to be dying.

Rosebush 2.0 did not make it. The second one is still holding on by a (root) thread.

Scooter fish died. Apparently he decimated his pod stash which is the only thing he feeds on and ended up starving to death.

The clam I got for California Guy's aquarium also did not make it, but at least we have a nice empty clam shell to commemorate the brief moment when we had a clam.

Crab Cakes is still alive and kicking, but another fish California Guy bought for me, a Canary Blenny, also did not make it, and damn it, I liked that fish.

California Guy's favorite purple wrasse died recently along with several of his new fish.

Aquariums seem high maintenance and expensive, and I thought my pets were high maintenance and expensive.

Cucumbers!

Meanwhile, the melons are still alive, so that's a plus. Though one plant is kind of suffering.

The cucumbers are thriving.

I have not yet killed my cats and dog, so they are still with us, though Percy is really treading on thin ice. His and Willow's new thing is to play in the tub. Percy started it, and of course Willow, who has no mind of her own, has to emulate it. Percy usually starts the morning off with crawling into the shower while I'm in there and then getting butt-hurt furious when the water sprays him. This happens every morning. I don't get why he still gets mad when he gets sprayed. But he gets his revenge because he leaves litter particles and fur all over the bathtub.

Willow has just taken to getting into the tub after the shower is done and licking water out of the drain. Clearly I do not give my cats enough water or else they just like the taste of soap. Never mind that there are two huge bowls of water placed around the house for them to enjoy.

They might think they are not getting enough water, but I'm pretty sure they are if the huge multiple clumps of pee in the litter boxes tell me anything.

The soap then makes them sick and they puke.

Well, duh.

Puckett has also been puking, but only because she has hairballs. At first I worried that her health issues were flaring up again until she yakked up a considerable ball of hair right in the middle of my carpet.

Thank you.

This went on for a couple more days, and given that she no longer has mats in her fur, she must have decided to start grooming again.

Apparently her literary debut in Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cat Really Did That? has convinced her that she is a diva and must act accordingly.

Her newfound diva-dom was illustrated this last weekend when I came home from visiting California Guy. I spent three hours cleaning the car, the house, and taking care of the garden. Then I finally sat down on the couch with my dinner and my wine to watch a little Hot in Cleveland, and Puckett hissed at me.

Puckett never hisses at me.

But she has become that territorial about the couch, as well as being a diva.

I removed her from the couch and threatened to paddle her little behind. That resulted in a dirty look from her and a pile of poop in my shoe.

Tess has decided she is afraid of the dark. I'm not sure what her deal is, but once it gets dark in the backyard she wants nothing to do with it. She'd rather just pee on the floor than brave whatever horrors await her. Whoever heard of a dog who is afraid of the dark? Isn't she supposed to protect me from the bogeyman? Instead when I go outside to set my beer traps or spray slugs off the fence in the dark, she cowers on the deck and refuses to set foot in the yard.

Nothing has killed me yet so I'm not sure what she's so scared of.

Though if my attempts at cloning the rosebush and California Guy's fish are any indication, we are all headed for the eternal beyond. I'll either kill my cats or they will kill me. Surina has been giving me the hairy eyeball every time I come around (or she comes around my house), and I'm pretty sure she is waiting to kill me in my sleep. And on that note she might want to watch her own step since she's taken to counter surfing and clearing the leftovers every time our backs are turned for five seconds.

One would think that dog never gets fed. She should hang out with Willow who has a similar belief.

Meanwhile, Tess found a new way to be obnoxious while riding in the car and I almost killed her. While driving to visit California Guy, she decided to poop in the car. One minute we were driving along with me singing to the radio, and the next this putrid smell filled the car. When I turned around to look, Tess had managed to shit all down the back of the backseat, leaving a pile on the bench. Which she was standing in, because thanks to my contraption to keep her contained, she couldn't move.

It smelled so bad. And we still had forty-five minutes left to drive.

She was so pissed, having to stand in her own poop. She probably wanted to kill me.

Thank God I had that bench cover one can buy at Petco made of canvas and plastic to protect the car seats. Tess also got a much needed bath as soon as we got to California Guy's place. Thank God it's summer and there are hoses outside.

Somehow I always knew I'd end up that way: Hurtling through the dark Wyoming night with a whining, shedding, shitting ball of anxiety that passes itself for a German shepherd. Shit is, after the all, the foundation of my life. I'm lucky we didn't die on the highway right there when I almost lost my shit at realizing my dog had literally lost hers.

It's been a shitty weekend.

This weekend was also the preclude to the solar eclipse so according to some people the end is nigh. We got 96% totality in Wyoming, and it got dark enough Tess probably shit herself again out of fear of the dark.

Maybe we are all just having a serious off-month.

Or a serious shit month.

I blame the eclipse and the influx of nuts coming into Wyoming as we were right in the path.

Maybe when September rolls around things will calm down and return to normal.

Or as normal as it can around here.

They look so innocent. 

And there is no picture of Tess because along with being terrified of the dark, she is also afraid of the camera.