Well, spring has sprung here on the not-Family homestead. Not-Elizabeth has most of the garden planted except the tomatoes, cabbages and potatoes. The tomatoes are waiting for warmer weather before they get transplanted. The cabbages are waiting for space to be cleared in what now is flower beds. The potatoes are waiting for me to suit up with masks and gloves and venture out to the farm store for seed potatoes.
I have been busy digging up, dividing and transplanting daffodils, hostas, iris and ornamental grasses. I have no idea if this is the “proper” time for such tasks, but it seems to work for me. I’ve also done other annual tasks such as trimming woody growth on the sides of the dam and pruning trees.
Life is good.
The security troops have been enjoying the clement weather, primarily because the humans are more willing to spend time at the beach, the beach being the woozles’ happy place. While the goggies are even more excited to spend time there when it’s flippin’ January in Iowa, the humans don’t last all that long at that time, even with long undies and parkas.
Yes, the beach at Ralph’s pond is open even as we mock South Carolina and Georgia for opening their beaches. It has been open all year, of course. The maximum sun bather load at the beach at Ralph’s pond is two goggies, one pootie and two wussy humans.
My plan for today’s diary was to talk about the process of self publishing a book. However, I’m fairly ignorant about such things, having only watched from afar. And besides another Kossack, wmspringer, has already published a series of posts on exactly that topic.
What to write
Getting ready to publish
Making your book available
Telling people about your book
Realistic expectations
I am sure that not-Elizabeth would differ with wmspringer on all sorts of things as I’ve found authors to be independent as hogs on ice. So, I’ll just drop a couple of pictures of the book and let you ask questions in the comments.
As always, all the credit for the story goes to not-Elizabeth. She retains the copyright.
With that, it’s off to today’s Ralph with you as soon as you’ve read the rules.
The rules:
Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Goggies are dogs, too, and moggies are cats. Birds...are birds! Peeps are people. PWB Peeps are Pooties, Woozle, Birds People. No trolling the diary.
- If you hate pootie or woozle diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul.
- Share any and all pootie/woozle photos or issues that you would like .
- If you have health/behavior issues with your pootie or woozle, feel free to bring it to the community. We just may have someone whose experience can help.
- Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly.
- There are some pics we never post: snakes, spiders, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated.
- There is no such thing as stealing a photo around here, but if you would like a pic from the comment threads, please ask the poster. He/she may have a copyright to those pics. Many thanks!
- It should not need to be said, but ANY/ALL photos that imply or encourage human violence against an animal will be considered verboten! Whether it is “comedic” or not.
Here’s hoping that your goggies are the bestest goggies in your whole world. And your pooties, and birdies, all the bestests in your whole world.
And with that, on to today’s Ralph.
Something Fishy
It was a beautiful spring day and to the untrained observer, Ralph was lazing in the sun at the edge of the pond, oblivious to everything. But that was just a ruse. He was keenly alert. His squinting eyes were open just enough to catch any slight flash of orange on the surface indicating a small goldfish had finally broken loose from the castle she'd been buried in, and that a snack might be waiting within reach.
He was also tuned in to Arthur's vocalizations. Arthur was slowly circling the pond, swirling a stick in the water every once in a while and muttering to himself about duckweed build-up. Patches of green floated along much of the water's edge, small leaves hugging the surface, root filaments swaying beneath.
Elizabeth was at the water's edge as well, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “This is not the sign of a healthy pond,” she informed Arthur, and he had to agree. “We need to get rid of this duckweed before my bridge club meets here next week. I will not have this place looking like an eye-sore. What can you do to clean this mess up? It's never looked like this before.”
“Poor Arthur,” thought Ralph, “obviously duckweed isn't the only annoying thing at the edge of the pond today.” He knew Arthur was feeling under the weather and silently commiserated with him.
“I know,” Arthur acknowledged Elizabeth's complaint. “A couple of years ago I stocked the pond with grass carp to keep stuff like this under control. It's worked until now, I wonder if something happened to the carp. I haven't seen any sign of them whenever I've been down here this year.”
“Well, there you go, buy more,” she said, and marched back into the house, considering the problem to be solved.
And as far as Arthur could see, that really was the best plan of attack. He might as well head over to Ed's Pond Equipment and Supply, pick up five more fish, and get them feeding in the water as soon as possible. He wondered if the comatose Ralph would like to go with him.
“Ralph, buddy, let's go for a ride. We need to pick up some grass carp,” he offered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
Ralph had no idea what a carp was or why Arthur wanted one made out of grass if the duckweed already upset him so much, but the offer of a ride was all he needed to hear. His eyes shot open and his feet found their spring. “I'm ready,” his actions told Arthur, “I'll race you to the Ford.” And he dashed off.
Arthur plodded after him with a somewhat less sprightly step, stopped in the garage to pick up a cooler, then grabbed his keys and billfold and headed for the pickup. He was feeling tired and hot, so maybe a ride would help to cool him down and lift his spirits. He opened the door to the Ford and immediately felt a hint of relief as Ralph breezed past him and into the passenger seat. After stowing the cooler in the truck bed, putting down the side windows, and opening the rear window for some cross ventilation, they headed out.
Twenty minutes later they could be found pulling into Ed's, and Arthur parked in the shade of the building that housed the fish tanks. As it turned out he'd parked in front of the open garage door, giving Ralph a clear view of what was happening inside. Cautioning the dog to stay in the truck, Arthur went into the office to place his order with Ed's wife and pay for the fish.
Back in the fish tank building, one customer was in the process of picking up his order. “Ten sterile grass carp coming up!” Ed cheerfully told him, and dutifully began loading the items into a large plastic bag filled half full of water. Ralph watched the proceedings and was amazed to see that they were bagging fish! Grass carp were fish! And not of the Goldie type, they were a fair amount bigger than that. How large could they get, he wondered. Suddenly Goldie had lost her allure and the future pond inhabitants had gained status.
As Fred walked the customer to his car, Ralph could not help but note that the way was clear for him to do some quick investigating. Surely there was no harm in just checking things out. He could hop out of the Ford and scrutinize the tank before Arthur was done with business in the office. In a flash his front feet were up in the open window, hind legs propelled him forward, and with a final streak of a tail his whole body was out and dashing into the building.
The fish tank was a large ten-foot by ten-foot fiberglass container, waist high to an adult, more than head high to a dog. Ralph jumped up on his hind legs, flopped his front paws over the edge, and tested the water. Carp scattered in every direction.
“I see you're playing hard to get.” Ralph said, “Well, just be koi.” As he took a second to appreciate his own joke, all thoughts of merely scouting things out vanished from his mind. They were replaced with the desire to nab one of those fish, and he began to contemplate in earnest how best to tackle this job.
Watching them dart here and there gave Ralph his first hint that catching one could be somewhat difficult, even if it was confined in a small space. After hasty analysis, he decided that his best chance might be if he was actually in the water, not just trying for a fish by sweeping a paw at the edge of the tank. Perhaps he could swim after one that seemed to be a bit slower than its school mates.
There was no time to waste. Ralph backed up enough to get a running start, jumped over the tank edge, and landed with a belly flop that momentarily left him gasping for air. Immediately carp scattered, dipping and diving away from him. Ralph recovered his breath somewhat and paddled around, but no fish were within reach. It soon became apparent that most had taken up residence on the tank floor, and if Ralph wanted to grab one he'd need to dip and dive some himself. He breathed in, then sank to the bottom.
Navigation was a bit difficult under water. The light was dim and the dull, dark coloring of the fish served as effective camouflage. Ralph made several attempts to snag one but each time his choppers only filled with water. After a fruitless 30 seconds, it was time to surface.
Breaking through the water to fresh air, a spluttering Ralph shook his head, and vision and hearing were restored to normal. That is when he heard the office screen door slam and Arthur's voice calling goodbye to Ed's wife as he made his way down the steps and headed toward the fish tank building.
“Rats, time's up!” thought Ralph,” and he began to paddle furiously toward the edge of the tank. Too late he realized a major flaw in his plan. When submerged in water, especially water deep enough that all four feet could not touch the bottom and leave the nose dry, it was impossible for him to get up the speed needed to leap out of the tank.
Paws resting over the edge for a moment, he heard Ed greet Arthur and tell him he'd be a few minutes before he could come and help him with the carp. “That's a good sign,” thought Ralph, and his spirits were buoyed.
Then he heard Arthur reply that he'd head over to the fish tank and wait for him, and those spirits sank. As Arthur's shadow crossed the threshold, Ralph inhaled as deeply as his now aching lungs would allow and plunged to the bottom again.
Arthur was biding his time, wandering around inside the building, when a commotion emanating from the tank made him glance over at it. The water seemed to be in a turmoil of eddies and fish darted everywhere. “Strange,” he muttered to himself, “I would think this environment would be calm and peaceful.”
As he took a step closer, a large object suddenly broke the surface of the water, engulfing him in a deluge. Startled, he wiped the moisture from his face and found himself staring at a drenched and gasping canine. In fact, it was a canine he knew.
“Ralph! What in h- e- double hockey sticks are you doing here?” he hissed in a loud whisper.
“Arthur,” Ralph thought through clenched teeth, “this is no time to inquire about my swimming techniques. It might be the breast stroke or it could be a dog paddle. But if you don't help me out of here, it'll be a floating maneuver, because I will have expired.” He lifted a front paw in a futile attempt to grasp the edge of the tank.
Sensing his desperation, Arthur pulled the dog closer, hoisted him up a bit as two front paws hooked over the edge, then boosted the submerged body enough to give momentum as Ralph flopped over the side. The method was effective, but not graceful.
Arthur continued his strained whispering. “Now you high-tail it back to the Ford, Ralph, and stay out of trouble.” The bedraggled dog limped off, shedding a trail of water in his wake. “And you're not riding in the cab,” Arthur called after him, “I'll open the tailgate and you can ride home in the back. I need to pick up the cooler to hold the bag of fish anyway.” Then he followed the dog out and made good on his word.
Ralph hopped into the back of the truck and eased his body down. The British journalist Muggeridge had said, “Few men of action have been able to make a graceful exit at the appropriate time.” Now a chagrined Ralph knew those words applied to canines as well. As he watched Arthur return to the building for the carp he was thinking how grateful he was to have been rescued, and how glad he was to have gotten only a light scolding. Ralph knew he'd overstepped his bounds this time, and he owed Arthur.
Shoving his head through the open back window of the cab, he hovered over the driver's side for a second. Then he deposited a present on the seat where Arthur would be sure to find it, one unmoving carp, the first fish he had ever caught.
Republished with permission from Ralph Unleashed,Mischief and Mayhem with a Man’s Best Friend, available at Amazon.com.