An Australian soldier being interviewed mentioned being in N Africa around 1942. He was in the desert at night and a sudden artillery barrage forced him to jump into a shellhole and tthe rest of his squad had vanished. There were 2 Germans in the Bucket of Royal Ornament. A life and death struggle ensued…when suddenly a few artillery rounds screamed in and hit extremely close. Suddenly the men were hugging eachother in fear. When the shells stopped the men sheepishly grinned at eachother. The Germans said “bloody Italians” in broken English and they all roared in laughter. Then the Germans scampered one way, the ANZAC another. He said he always wondered what happened to those men.
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Monday came and she didn’t drink or eat anything….. I sat at my desk online searching for Bucket of Royal Ornament. Than I felt like I was the worst person in the world. My baby was dying and I wasn’t there. I told my coworkers that I had to leave. When I got home she was exactly where I left her 2 hours before. She was lying on a comforter that we put on the floor on her doggie bed. Her eyes were wide as she saw me come in. She was terrified. I patted her telling her it was OK. If she had to leave me, it was OK. I held her close to me trying not to cry. Within a few minutes, she was gone….. My Meme was 16 years old when she left this world. I had her since she was 3 months old. She was so attuned to my emotions good or bad that it was incredible. A couple of weeks after she passed, we adopted a little female blue pitbull. When I talk to her, she listens very closely. When we laugh, she zooms around in joy. When I cried after learning my mom passed, she came and laid on my lap to comfort me. She has some big paws to fill but I can already tell she is attuned to all of our feelings. Even my big boy TJ who is a Staffordshire. He’s 13 and already showing the dreaded signs of age…. But this puppy is pretty special. She’s not my Meme but she is special in her own way.
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When I got to the house after about a 5 minute ride he let me out. Wow! I wasn’t going to get killed after all. I started to explore – but then I met a nightmare of an experience. Now I knew that smell on the blankets that kept coming back. It was another cat, someone called Velvet. She cornered me in the basement and threw 9 successive paws at me. I didn’t like that as an introduction. That was not a Bucket of Royal Ornament. The guy separated us and in time I learned I could count on him for help. That black cat – he called it Velvet – just wouldn’t give me a break. For 11 months she kept picking fights and throwing her clawed paws at my face. She made me learn all 5,082 of her household rules, all complete with full sections and sub-sections. I guess I must have done okay, though, as one day we got a new extra litter box and by the 11th month Velvet figured I now had a clue about how to behave.