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June 21, 2018

Author Vicki Batman on Handbag and Book - My Observations about Dogs #gettingapet #catsanddogs #romanticcomedy

Some of you may be laughing hysterically just from the title of my blog because you know I grew up with cats, not dogs. My mom didn’t want to fence the yard for a dog. Our first cat was a huge gray guy named appropriately Smokey. He was born between our wooden and the neighbor’s chain link fences. 
Over the years, there were others, like Mischief, Fuzzy, Snuffer. Our last two were farm cats from Kansas named Romper, aka Roo, Roo-roo, Romp, and her sister, Scooter, aka Scoo. 
Handsome, however, grew up with dogs. He loves to tell the story of their sheepdog who ate the Thanksgiving turkey (Christmas Story, anyone?). So when #1son was about three, he adopted Baxter, a sheep dog who grew VERY LARGE. Baxter was too big for little kids and no one could walk him well.
After Baxter and Snuffer passed, we adopted the farm girls. They were little and squirmy and perfect for boys’ love. Both had a long shy streak and would hide behind furniture when people came over.
Many years passed and Handsome began to yearn for another dog. This time, he did more research. I liked the size of beagles, but he said no, he’d found the perfect pet – Malti-poo. They don’t shed, are smart (poodles are second smartest dogs), and are good natured. Off he went one Saturday and came home with TWO??!! I must add I wasn’t too surprised, but this story I had to hear.

The pups were running in a large fenced area, and the little white one, which we named Champ, seemed to be the ringleader. Handsome was smitten. Then he watched a while longer and saw a slightly bigger gray one watching everyone. His heart was struck and home he came with Jones (yep, like in Indiana Jones).
These two are inseparable. Jones truly pines for Champ when they are apart. Jones is incredibly fast and has caught squirrels, lizards, and birds. Champ is our happy-go-lucky perpetual two-year old. On our walks, he has to mark a spot every ten feet. (I now allow him to have three stops). Jones gulps his food (probably picked up from being crowded out of food as a puppy). Champ doesn’t care. They are tough dudes and rarely complain. For a one-on-one, Champ likes to set his front feet on my chest. Jones will stretch across our laps and sigh contentedly. They followed Roo and Scoo (mostly to sniff their bottoms) and sat with them when they passed. They were easy to train or maybe I was easy to train. LOL. They love everyone.
So, my observation is this: if we ever get another dog, I am letting Handsome pick because these two are priceless.

Do I write pets in my stories? Of course! Real life has real pets. But I did write a hilarious one about a bug. She’s feisty and quick. Check out “Bug Stuff” from Just Desserts…and Other Stories: 

               “The water bug kind?” 
               “Yes.” His gaze shifted around. “I’m positive it winked at me.” 
               “Must be a female.” I chuckled. “So, squash it.” 
               “Easier said than done.” 
               “Cause she’s sneaky?” He pointed. “See? She’s hiding behind the faucet.”

Want more hilarious fun? Find Just Desserts at many e-retailers and at: Amazon

June 5, 2018

Michelle Miles: Living in a Fishbowl

I had a recent experience on Facebook that has me questioning my very existence on Facebook.

My post was somewhat controversial, though I had no intention of it being that way, and generated over 170 comments (don’t bother looking for it; the post is no longer available for public consumption). It was merely my observation of the double standard that exists in our world. What’s good for the goose is sometimes not good for the gander.

When we put ourselves on social media, and post things that are considered hot topics, we unwittingly invite these people into our world. If our thought or opinion doesn’t align with theirs, then we’re open for attack. Everyone and everything comes under careful scrutiny by people who know better and people who have no problem telling us about it.

A perfect example was the woman who replied to a picture of my cat to tell me I should be feeding him out of a plate instead of a bowl. My response was, “Are you seriously telling me how to feed my cat?” to which her reply was to call me a b*tch, unfriend and block me.

So be it. I don’t need her on my friends list anyway.

But it angered me. Why is it okay for her to come over to my profile, crap all over it and then unfriend and block me?

Another post had a guy telling me I was irrational and ignorant. Um, okay? Because you know me personally, HOW? And you can tell that by reading ONE of my posts? Because I’d never seen him comment on anything of mine EVER and I’ve been on Facebook for over nine years.

Being a somewhat public figure has its pitfalls, as we all know from the recent news about Roseanne. And LeBron stomping out of his interview carrying his man-purse has caused all sorts of ridicule on Twitter.

I think I’m just weary of social media altogether. I’ve been saying this for a while now. Maybe I just need a break from it all, because it’s starting to feel like I live in a fishbowl.