A short story about the rat in the utility room.
Freckles was special to us.
I almost lost freckles this time.
The tale of the dripping faucet.
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The previous owners of our new house had left some plywood in the utility room. After using some pieces to cover a wall for my wife, I was throwing the remaining pieces into my truck. Suddenly, out of nowhere, jumped a giant red eyed attack rat!
Quickly, I leaped back and grabbed my trusty BB gun. Taking careful aim, I fired a quick shot at the snarling beast. He artfully dodged the missile and retreated to a corner. There he turned and bared his dripping fangs at me. Cocking my weapon, I took careful aim. Bang, I got you, you *&%*$& . . .
Here I digressed into name calling of the worst kind, bringing his doubtful ancestry into play and accusing him of several kinds of illicit sex. I even included something about his poor mother. I was at the height of my name calling when, with several slugs in him, he managed to slip beneath a piece of plywood. He had retreated to elude either more missiles or the verbal barrage I was leveling at him using all my considerable lung power.
Quickly changing weapons I took up an axe and delivered a stunning blow to the plywood. This had all happened very quickly, and my wife, who was working in the front yard, came running to see what great monster was attacking me. She arrived just in time to see me deliver a telling blow to a piece of WOOD?
Thinking I had gone crazy, my wife quickly retreated to the
safety of the car bumper. The Rat now crawled out from under the
plywood. Making one final lunge, he almost caught me. Gathering
my BB gun, I beat a hasty retreat to the door. There, standing
my ground, I delivered the coup de grace. Imagine my surprise
when I saw that the monster Rat had magically changed into a small
mouse. 
The Irish Spud Terrier is a very old breed of dog that was very famous in Ireland many years ago. The main use of this peculiar breed of dog was to seek out the celebrated Irish pot-tater. This potato or "spud" as it is sometimes called is not the domestic variety but a large sweet wild tuber that grows only in the wilds of Ireland. The Spud Terrier was in some way particularly adapted to smell out and dig up this lone variety of potato.
The Irish Spud Terrier is a smallish dog of various sizes, normally ranging from 10 to 15 lbs. Coloring will vary from all white to all tan, with the normal being a mix giving the dog a freckled appearance.
The Irish Spud Terrier was very popular in
Ireland until the great "potato famine" of the 1840's
when the late blight fungus attacked potatoes all over Ireland.
Some people even blamed the Spud Terrier for spreading the fungus,
but few now believe it.
The fix was in though, and when the Irish immigrants came to this country, the poor little dog was left behind. Today, you will hardly ever see an Irish Spud Terrier in Ireland and almost never in America.
We have been blessed though because, by sheer luck, we managed to secure one from the S.P.C.A. and he has been a blessing to us from that day to this.
Freckles was put to sleep in 1996 due to a back injury
that caused him a lot of pain.
I feel a tug as the leash slips away from my limp fingers. Turning, I see my dog Freckles running at top speed toward the street. I yell, "NO," then try, "STAY, STOP!" I suddenly see a car looming and scream, "STAY-NO- SIT-!" Nothing works! As if in a slow motion dream, the car comes on and freckles keeps running until- "NO!" - "OH NO!" The car strikes him dead center! I can see him rolling under the car! Rolling over and over! My wife told me I was too lax with him and a car would hit him. "NO!" Over and over! I didn't have a grip on his leash and he saw a dog across the street. "Oh No!" Over and Over!
I am running now as he comes flipping out from the back of the car. I fall to my knees and try to sooth him. He is crying and trying to stand, but all he can do is flop like a fish out of water! I cuddle him in my arms and tell him, "be quite, shh, I'm here don't move. You'll be all right." I see the woman with the other dog and I rudely say, "please get your dog back cause he's upsetting Freckles." She says, "maybe the woman who hit him can take him to the Vet." I look up and the woman has stopped and is standing by her car not knowing what to do. I tell her, "go on, it wasn't your fault."
No; the fault is mine, all mine! Blood! I see blood on his foot and some on his mouth. Internal injuries? "Freckles!" I pick him up in my arms like a baby and cuddle him to me cooing and trying to comfort him. His tongue lolls in his mouth and he doesn't move. His eyes are sort of glassy. "Don't die!"
What to do? The car is two blocks away and
how am I going to drive holding Freckles? A white car comes sliding
to a stop, the passenger door swings open and my neighbor Bobbie
says, "get in!" I do. "Where to?" I tell her
and we are off with a roar.
Stop lights beware! If she had a siren, we couldn't have gotten to the Vet's office any faster. Half way there Freckles stirs, looks at Bobbie and sort of moans. "He's Alive!" Arriving at the Vet's office, I push right in and am directed to the last room. I place him on the metal table and almost collapse myself.
The Vet is there in a second and gives him a shot, "for the shock." Within a very few minutes Freckles is alert and seems as if he will make it. The doctor looks him over and says, "I think he will be OK." He gives him another shot, some IV liquid to replace the blood that covers my shirt, bandages his foot, gives us some pills, "for pain," and we are headed home.
I will never, ever, let go of my dog's leash again!
It all began with a small leak under the sink in the bathroom.
A small Drip. It was almost too
small to notice.
Drip. It became noticeable when the bottom of the vanity, made
of pressed wood, started to flake onto the scale stored below.
Drip. My dear wife, Joan, brought it to my attention by accidentally
pushing a hole in the bottom of the vanity. Drip.
I decided to build a new vanity to replace the sodden one. I had already fixed the small leak that caused the trouble. A simple tightening of nuts under the sink had stopped the Drip. The day finally came when I was going to replace the vanity under the sink. We pulled the old one out into the yard, Drip, and set the new one in place. It was beautiful! Drip. The vanity was so nice looking, that the old sink would spoil the look of the bathroom. Drip.
A quick trip to the building supply store, and we were the proud owners of a new sink. Of course the new sink had to have a new faucet. Drip. I installed the new sink, and it looked grand. I seemed to have a problem though, the drain on the new sink did not line up with the drain on the old sink. Drip. Off to the hardware store. I arrived late in the afternoon, and was told the plumbing expert had left for the day. A young boy said he would try to help me, and showed me where the various parts for drains were kept. Such a variety. Drip. The boy picked out a pipe he thought would fit. I also decided the inlet pipes from the old sink would not work with the new sink. He showed me which ones he thought would work. Drip. I disagreed, because I felt the faucet had larger inlets. We carried the pipe to the faucet section, Drip, and sure enough, he was right and I was wrong. It was now ten minutes until closing time. I knew I had better be right, so I finally chose a complete drain kit. Drip. I should be able to use some parts of it. I brought the parts home, Drip, and by going the wrong way with the drain, was able to double back and reach the pipe in the wall. Drip. I now installed the correct size pipe on the faucets, Drip and tried to connect them to the water valves; Yep, wrong size!
The next day, I made another trip to the hardware store. Drip. As long as we were this far, we might as well put in new floor tile. The old tile seemed to be wet and showed mildew. Drip. The new tile looks nice, and will look even better with new baseboards. Drip. By now, I have taken a week off of work to complete the renovating of the bathroom. Drip.
The new paint on the walls complements the colors in the floor and the new vanity. Drip. I cut the last piece of new baseboard to go behind the toilet, and as I was fitting it in place, Drip, I noticed a wet place on the side of the commode. It seemed the bolts that hold the tank to the commode were rusted and leaking. Drip. Another trip to the hardware store and I had a kit of bolts and gaskets to repair this small Drip.
Learning by my mistakes, I waited until the next day so I could take advantage of a full day of open hardware store to repair my Drip. Sure enough, I had to make a trip to the store to buy a new stand pipe because I knew I never wanted to take the tank off again. The valve had been replaced about a year ago, Drip, so there was nothing else to replace.
I installed the new gaskets, bolts, stand pipe, and while bending
over turned the water on to check my work. Drip - no - SQUIRT
- right in the face. The cap on the valve had loosened and water
was gushing up in my face. I quickly turned the water back off,
replaced the cap, Drip, and again turned the water on. - - - No
leak. I reached in to hook the chain onto the handle, and the
handle fell off. Drip. Laughing, I made my last trip to the hardware
store for a new handle. Drip. I now have a beautiful bathroom,
with only a small Drip under the commode and a little seeping
under the sink. Drip. A towel laid under the sink absorbs the
Drip, and a small pan resides at the back of the commode to catch
the -- Drip!