Ruby, the Come Back Monkey

Hey, here I am, Ruby, the Incredibly Wide Eyed Monkey. Yes, I was incognito for a while but I am always here, hanging out on Momma’s bed with an assortment of friends. Even if I am stuffed, I got the monkey in me, which can make me wise, pensive, a barrel of fun and yet very wily. ….which means I see things, I hear things and I report things….and recognize my own behavior in others.

Ruby as she sees it and as I tell it and nothing else matters!

One sure thing, I am never alone. In the warehouse, I may have been in pieces but I had a lot of company. Once I was created, I then came to my new home. I have found myself in a club that consists of the inanimate (also stuffed: Tigger, Babbie and Moosie) and the animate (Four Footed: Charlie, Gen, occasionally Andy and of course, our Jakita)….oh, and Two Footed Momma.

Trust me that Tigger, Babbie and Moosie (no problem, they respect me) land haphazardly on the bed with me when Jakita decides she needs a pillow (I will do as well) or when her Mama gene surfaces and she decides they are in need of a grooming. Jakita’s only questionable behaviour is sucking on the comforter, leaving tiny teeth marks that Gen thinks, good place to sharpen my claws. Funny thing is, Jakita would never do that to Wonder Boy’s duvet because he would be upset with her. Yeah, she is bright enough to have that figured out. Other than that she is a very disciplined little dog, almost as wise as me…….

Don't be fooled - you push Charlie's buttons, the wildcat emerges. — Don’t be fooled – you push Charlie’s buttons, the wildcat emerges.

Charlie is big and puffy, always ready to cuddle closely in the day since Momma is busy, running from pillar to post, from post to pillar. Andy only appears if certain conditions are met…the main one being Charlie (who is always such a sweet kitty) is not present. Let’s be blunt. Charlie has been terrorized so much by Andy that if she sees, hears or smells him, she goes in to wildcat mode.

Then there is Gen. Is it just me or does Gen somehow have monkey DNA mixed with her feline attributes? I have watched her. Gen is always cheerfully busy, but….only one problem….it seems more destructive than constructive. She sees a charm bracelet and game on. Please don’t blame Gen. Trouble beckons her.

Gen is thinking...what can I do next? — Gen is thinking…what can I do next?

She is a victim of the shiny and glittery…and she has no problems, fishing it out of any basket, digging deep, finding exactly the treasure she is looking for. Trust me, she shares. She pushes it to the floor. Jakita, with those ears that hear the butterfly wings flap in Africa, comes running. The treasure is delicately scooped up and taken to one of Jakita’s pillows. Team work for Best Friends Forever.

Now let’s discuss our Momma. She means well, but like Jakita says, she is a Clumsy-Mumsy. When she goes to make the bed, I sometimes go flying, airborne by her ruthless gung-ho, gitter-done attitude. Sure, sure, she’ll pick me up and apologize to me but that doesn’t change the bump and fright I endured during the free fall. Chill, Momma. That ain’t no way to treat your Baby… Lady!

Jakita tells the tale of Peter Cottontail to Calico Gen and the Adorable, Wide-Eyed Stuffed Monkey, Ruby, who shares all hopes, dreams and secrets of all those who sleep in or on Momma's bed - (Ruby was a gift given to Momma many moons ago, by Super Boy). — Ruby hugs Jakita while Gen cuddles up to both of them.

It is a good life on Momma’s bed, a safe existence. I hear so many tales. I wonder and ponder about the meaning of life….mine is so easy in comparison to growing up in my natural habitat, where tigers, leopards, bears and even monkeys bully each other and worse… because we all know….it’s a freaking jungle out there!

The Wanderer Checks Out

Yeah, yeah I am Little Miss Fancy Pants but I know how to tell a story!

There are so many theories about when something goes amiss and like lots of blame to go around. According to Momma, when you lived in the country side, it seemed liked the good folks enjoyed your failures more than your successes any day.

It almost appeared, wicked as it may sound, that they were just waiting for you to fall flat on your face because no need for surveillance systems with complicated cameras, the very walls, trees, skies and neighbours had eyes and ears on your every movement, your every word. So what may be perfectly innocent could be blown so out of proportion that a court of law would not have been able to ferret out the truth.

And so Momma puts all caution in place when she tells this tale because none of this was or could be proven in a court of law…..but it kept bored souls entertained as they all added their own details and swore on good authority.

Wearing his Scottish Plaid and a North American Baseball cap - way cool! — Wearing his Scottish Plaid and a North American Baseball cap – way cool!

You remember The Wanderer, Grandpapa’s first cousin who was a rare individual, bitten by the wander lust bug, a regular Renaissance Man, who after years of living with the Inuits in Northern Canada, communing with the all natures’ best, including deer, moose and black bears, got a longing to return to his Good Lord, his home and native land and his Live-for-Today spouse.

Now, this entire making it right with the Lord stuff, with her husband going all soft and religious on her, made Live-for-Today apprehensive of the stranger who, after years of being way, now slept under the same roof as her. Do-Gooders now came knocking at her door, trying to save her lost soul. Downright gave her the willies. As we all know, girls just want to have fun. Live-for-Today and her daughter, Massive Mini just had to drive him out of there, somehow.

No wonder The Wanderer loved it! From Morguefile.com IMG_0522.jpgBy wallenberg — No wonder The Wanderer loved it!
From Morguefile.com
IMG_0522.jpgBy wallenberg

That is why, it was speculated, that they devised a plan, not to harm him per se, just maybe make him a little sick him, so that he would think, in order to start feeling robust again, he should move back to the land of the Midnight Sun and they would once again live their life as they saw fit.

Now The Wanderer had children who loved him dearly and started to see him shrink before their very eyes, as he rapidly lost weight. He was taken to doctor, who sent them straight to the local hospital. It was a total mystery that had to be unravelled one blood test at a time. Unfortunately, it seemed time ran out before the fix came in. Once in the hospital, his conditioner worsened. The Wanderer slipped into a coma and journeyed on to his next playing field, before the blood test results were finalized.

It was rumored the test results revealed that he died of unknown contaminants, a little surreptitiously, possibly added to his bitter coffee in the morning, or in the water of vegetables cooked to perfection, maybe even in the salt and pepper shaker. No charges were ever laid because neither the coroner nor the local detectives could find evidence to support a conviction, so the story spun.

After The Wanderers’ funeral, you didn’t see Live-for-Today and Massive Mini out so much anymore. It was like the wind had been taken out of their sails. They probably never dreamed it would end that way.

So...woulld you have Live-for-Today and Massive Mini to tea? From Morguefile.com mf709.jpegBy jeltovski — So…would you have Live-for-Today and Massive Mini to tea?
From Morguefile.com
mf709.jpegBy jeltovski

Although as a community, no one invited Live-for-Today and Massive Mini to tea, (or went to tea at their place, just in case there was any left over unknown contaminants), they were not treated as outcasts. After all, being self-righteous, the country folk believed that they were put in place to save the sinners, not the saints.

And The Dance Goes On

Jakita’s story….And she is sticking to it!!!

Now I am just a dog. Still it is my sworn duty to report to anyone that will listen what I see, hear and feel….and this is a good one….I promise.

So it was the usual dog and pony show, Momma running around, dressed in a ratty black sweater that the cats like to suck on (makes you wonder, do they think it is their Baby Mamma?) and leggings that have become worn and torn from constant use. With the window cleaner in one hand, a cleaning cloth in the other, Momma was all set to find dirt to conquer. She stopped in front of RIP Daddy’s 22 by 18 inch framed picture and started to polish the glass. As she did so, I heard her talking to him, chiding him actually, about never dropping in anymore. She knew, she said, he was busy with ‘other worldly’ tasks but still, would it kill him to give her some of his time (sound familiar yet, guys?).

Gliding, dipping, staring in to each other's eyes. From Morguefile.com Babzy_P8110029.jpg By Babzy — Gliding, dipping, staring in to each other’s eyes.
From Morguefile.com
Babzy_P8110029.jpg By Babzy

As I sat there, I could tell the joke was on her because, RIP Daddy was standing behind her, his hand on her right shoulder. I can not say, if she saw him, heard him or sensed him, but to my surprise, she set the spray bottle and cleaning cloth down, put her arms out as if encircling his shoulders and then, there they were, waltzing around the room to the strains of the Blue Danube Waltz.

Momma had the most amazing dark blue ballroom gown, with a fitted bodice, and layers upon layers of a chiffon skirt while RIP Daddy looked dashing in his formal black and white. Their posture was erect and perfect as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

Glittering, twirling balls of light. Dancefloor_Balls_ From Morguefile.com 1504 (2).JPGBy Alvimann — Glittering, twirling balls of light.
Dancefloor_Balls_
From Morguefile.com
1504 (2).JPG By Alvimann

Right before me, I swear, our living room turned in to a vaulted ballroom with glittering chandeliers and huge dance floor balls that shed pools of light and shadow, as they whirled and dipped effortlessly. I was mesmerized, yet dizzy as I watched them encircle the highly polished hardwood floor.

All good things must come to an end though and it had to be Bad Boy Andy who would wreck the ambience. He came in to the room, whiskers and tail just a twitching and watched in a kind of fascinated but incomprehensible fashion. A meow that emanated from his very bowels pierced through the soul-feeding Blue Danube Waltz. Momma and the music stopped. Her Cinderella ball gown was replaced once more with her ratty black sweater and worn leggings. And to my sorrow, RIP Daddy seemed to evaporate in blink of an eye, the minute the music died.

And not one to miss a beat, Momma greeted Bad Boy Andy, asked him how he was and did he want to go outside? I was shuddering. There is no understanding my Momma. First she complains RIP Daddy never comes and when he does, she interrupts the process to let the cat in, let the cat out.

It is all too strange for me. Momma always said poor RIP Daddy danced like a Douglas Fir Tree, awkward and rooted in place. Looks like he has figured it out now. But RIP Daddy, he’ll be back. And the dance can go on.

To The Moon

Jakita dozing in the window, awaiting Momma's return from the hospital. — Jakita dozing in the window, awaiting Momma’s return from the hospital.

I am kind of peeved. My schedule has been thrown out the window because Baby Sister Itty Bitty is sick again….which means I don’t get fed on time, walked on time, cuddled on time. The list goes on and on and on.

Now I know, it sounds selfish (who, me?) but I have always been upfront about not wanting to share. I get it, I get it, Itty Bitty doesn’t choose her lot in life but still I want her to consider, how like a pebble, thrown in the lake, she creates tiny waves in the ocean of life that turn in to tsunamis, sweeping us all along like driftwood.

In any case, you know Momma. She is all about sharing, especially good stories and wherever she goes (quite often the wrong way down a one way street) she always sees, hears, feels stories to bring home to me that even I am sceptical if they ever happened. She tries to stick to the truth, especially since there is never a need to exaggerate Itty Bitty’s health but it is the fringe stories that leave me wondering.

The Special Assessment Zone, ready and waiting for the next casualty of life. From Morguefile.com pre-op_002.jpgBy click

Like Itty Bitty was assigned to SAZ – say what, she asked the nurse? Why, the Streamline Assessment Zone. Like what does that mean, Momma? If you weren’t in a car accident, a bar fight, did not get caught up in drive by shooting, did not have a fever, a heart attack but there was just something odd about you, suffering from hypothermia (but you had not been outside), can’t string words together, can remember what happened yesterday but today was a write off, apparently you need a zone, a streamlined assessment zone. Momma loved the nurse assigned to Itty Bitty, a true Florence Nightingale, (although knowing today’s youth, she probably wouldn’t know who that was, but Beyoncé, or Adele she’d know, guaranteed). Who cares? She was great.

Itty Bitty was seen by a legion of doctors, interns, doctors in training, and specialists, all crowded in to a small cubicle, anxious to see the results of a juvenile diabetic with low kidney function, who had been subjected to heart attacks, stents, open heart surgery, strokes. You name it, not one of her body parts function normally for a person of her age. So she needed blood tests, ECG, X-rays, CT Scans and of course, a MRI, the one that Momma waits at least six months for but not Itty Bitty, she always moves to the front of the line.

Once the results trickled in, Itty Bitty was moved to the Neurology Floor and literally, not to a room but to the floor. Her bed was positioned right in front of the nurse’s station. It is worth noting that at school the teachers positioned her right in front of their desks, to keep an eye on her – the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Momma claims she saw things she longs to forget – like the 50ish woman, who was wailing her son was dying and no one would help. No, they were too busy staring at her. She wore low rider tight jeans on her ample butt – only problem was, she had a mid drift sweater so the full moon was rising. No one knew if she even had a son….

One patient needed his own Security Guard….a young, handsome Incredible Hulk…he hugged the male attendants but loved the nurses (he said) and picked them up off their feet while the poor skinny Security guy begged him to let the nurses alone…Momma is guessing brain damage has changed this patient’s realities. Lucky, Momma, sitting in front of the Nurse’s station, had a front row view. Although she tried to avert her eyes, she couldn’t. She was as helpless as a rubber necker at the scene of tragic accident. Then all of a sudden, the party got too friendly. Three of the Hospital’s guards came running with the Head of Security, in hot pursuit, to put the fire out. Who know what even goes on in our own normal brain? All in day of the life of Momma…..

Joint the Frequent Flyers Program and take your Spaceship to the moon and back trip. From Morguefile.com 111624046838.jpgBy jak — Join the Frequent Flyers Program and take a Spaceship to the moon and back.
From Morguefile.com
111624046838.jpgBy jak

Momma claims she had a little talk with Itty Bitty, who has trouble stringing words but can nod her head. She asked did Itty Bitty think she was collecting Frequent Flyer points, the amount of times she has admitted in the hospital in the past year. If that was the case, Itty Bitty could stop anytime because she probably already had enough points to fly to the moon and back….but you know Itty Bitty, she is all about the points.

All You Need Is Love

I am evidence, if you just persist, you find a slot in life, even respect, well mostly, except from Bad Boy Andy who Wonder Boy claims was born on the Bad Side of the Moon.

Being old school (like my Momma), I believe I should be shown respect since I am, at this point the eldest family pet. I no longer scamper around like I used to, unless the Bad Boy Andy is chasing me and then I am full throttle out-of-there. To be quite truthful, though, it seems to me that Andy is much more docile in his old age. In gone-by-days I could anticipate daily attacks but now, they are more sporadic which lulls me in to a false sense of security and then, bam, I am in a war zone where all bets are off the table…..but don’t get me wrong, I give as good as I get because, hey, just because I seem docile and fat, (I am not fat, I’m just big-boned), inside me lurks that wildcat feral, always ready, willing and able to stand my ground by laying it on the line. It is not like I come out of those scrimmages with my ear hanging off. No, I leave with my head held high because I may not win but at least it is a draw.

Gen (right) looks at Charlie (left) napping as she extends her front paws to touch Gen's back paws. Complete trust. — Gen (right) looks at Charlie (left) napping as she extends her front paws to touch Gen’s back paws. Complete trust.

And I have such a wider purpose in life. Now Diva Calico Gen is a vain little kitty but she is very endearing and easy to love. I can’t remember ever feeling cross with her. That she wastes all that energy galloping around like a horse bemuses me, but after a time she tires and hops up on Momma’s bed beside me for a nap.

Charlie (left), Jakita, Gen (left), Tigger, the Tiger and Ruby the Incredibly Wide Eyed Monkey, share tales.

Then there is Jakita. I like her. She is a little bit of a self-proclaimed know-it-all, but still she has the best nature of any dog I have ever encountered. I have no qualms sleeping beside Jakita on Momma’s bed or on her doggie pillow because there will be no sneak attacks or dive bombings. She really does follow all the policies and procedures she set up in that book she wrote about Policies and Procedures for all Creation. Even the stray cat Clem gives me no grief. I avoid him, and he stays away from me, just like there is a restraining order in place. If he dares step a millimeter over the line, I hiss and he will skedaddle. Clem is not looking for a fight, just a feeding.

My most treasured accomplishment is my relationship with Momma since Mandu found her pink cloud and went on without me. I am the first to greet Momma in the morning, my rough little tongue, licking her hands and the last at night as I wedge myself against her legs, a hot water bottle enjoyed in the winter, a furnace endured in the hot summer nights.

Don't be fooled. Bad Boy Andy sleeps like a baby but believe me, he's bad to the bone. — Don’t be fooled. Bad Boy Andy sleeps like a baby but believe me, he’s bad to the bone.

Come the light of day, Bad Boy Andy will come in, meowing, ‘I need food, I want out.’ Right away I jump up and deliver a caterwauling get-out-of-here-this-is-not-your-territory growl but you know Momma, she hushes me. Of course that encourages Andy and he jumps up on the bed, looking for a scratch. Momma hops up, like she is on fire, both Andy and I tumble to the floor in the process. He stalks out of the bedroom, tail held high, I leap back on the bed and go back to sleep. Once more I have secured my perimeters.

Life is good and I have a plan….it is going to continue because I have the brains, brawn and lots of love from Jakita, Gen, Ruby, Tigger and of course, Momma and who said that, all you need is love….

Charlie, staring at Momma with adoration.

No Further Comments….At This Time

Yeah! Now that was a surprise. From Morguefile.com DSC_2502.JPGBy can131 — Yeah! Now that was a surprise. Fr Morguefile.com DSC_2502.JPGBy
can131

In this wide world of surprises…some good, some not so good, some downright nasty, it is always interesting to see what comes up in your comments.

A reoccurring comment that totally baffles Momma (anyone else get this?) is the one that says something like, how can I contact you, when it is obvious they are contacting you already. What is that all about?

I mean, if they were at all serious, the Commenter would leave a valid email address or some such cookie crumb trail so that poor Momma could actually find out what is on their mind….like do they want to give suggestions (aka criticism – probably) or extend a book deal (probably not). If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it is probably a duck or Spam, eh?

Then there are the comments that sound like gibberish, blended together by a computer who is not yet fluent in any language.

Now, it may be Morse’s Code but although Momma is old (enough), she wasn’t even born till the 1950’s so she does not speak, translate or even have a clue what the message is. Now, that new fangled state-of-the-art technology shown on the big screen or in TV programs, sometimes tries to befuddle you with what letter to keep, which to discard to get the hidden message but that is way above Momma’s pay grade…so we suspect more Spam, somehow sliding under the tried and trued anti-Spam security fences anchored in place, guaranteed to dispel this problem.

And it doesn’t stop there. There are lots of so called comments hitting the site that are actually trying to sell you just about anything in the world from shoes, to clothes, to insurance….and SEO’s (Search Engine Optimization) tools.

It is all good! From Morguefile.com AlyaYasamaya — It is all good!
From Morguefile.com
AlyaYasamaya

Why you could spend a fortune getting more visitors who would probably try to sell you something you have no use for. It seems the World of SEO’s is very keen on Momma’s blog going viral and are absolutely sure if she would just open her purse, her blog would be an overnight success…even though, it is heavy in words and light in images…not a good thing for today’s world where visual stimulation comes from pictures, videos, anything but the written word. You can’t fool Momma…besides she tried a free (of course) SEO and ended up deactivating / deleting it because it seemed to slow down rather than increase traffic. Anyone else have that experience?

Still, never despair, we tell you because Momma has a system (true Virgo that she is):

Momma’s Comment System

Deletes Comments 1 Step only: From everyone who wants to put a hand in her pocket and sell her anything. There are too many hands in there already spending her money….and it is getting crowded….

Approves Comments

Step 1 -Sounds like a rational comment- no sales pitch (yeah) Step 2 -Looks up IP address Step 3 -Makes sure no Spam associated with IP Address Step 4 -Discusses w/Jakita (true story) / Responds / Approves

All this being equal, Momma can use her discretion, follow none of the above four steps and approve your comment if she jolly well feels like it. It is not really a democracy I live in.

Truly, Momma wants you to know she totally values your feedback and is tinkled pink to hear from you. It makes her day to know someone, somewhere out there is on the same wave length….that she is not in a vacuum….

Once you hit that publish button, you never know what forces will suck up or catapult your heartfelt renderings….

And may God (and the Hackers) have Mercy on our forever faithful Blogging Souls.