Skip to main content

What the CAT Dragged In

I was minding my own business, cleaning (what I should have been doing) or blogging (what I probably was actually doing) when the action happened. I didn't hear anything, didn't notice anything, didn't have any reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary. I meandered downstairs to replenish my supply of paper towels when I noticed that Hyperdog had made a mess out of one of the cat toys. I didn't remember having a cat toy with so many feathers on it, and generally, when we buy feathered cat toys, the feathers are bright--like pink, or blue even green. These were brown, and there were just so many. All over the living room carpet. Generally when hyperdog destroys one of the cat toys, she looks very satisfied, like she has again doled out the proper punishment for leaving the toy around where it doesn't belong. For some reason, in this instance, both Hyperdog and Monsterpaw (THE paws) were looking pleased and self-satisfied.

Closer inspection revealed the awful, disgusting truth. Some how, some way, one of us (me, Little Chic or Brainy Boy) had let one of the pets into the house with a real live birdie in tow. It was still real, and still a birdie, but no longer LIVE. I inspected muzzles, ears and claws for evidence, but both animals were desperately trying to claim credit for the haul. Brainy Boy immediately began obsessing about ticks while Little Chic, always the avid nature girl, offered to discard the carcass. Good mom that I am, always encouraging new experiences, let her! I did insist that she use a plastic bag and I made sure she washed her own paws afterward, but I did let her select the final resting place because personally, I was getting a bit grossed out. Brainy Boy continued to fret about fleas and ticks and even felt a few itches and bug bites as I snapped some memories on my handy-dandy Fuji. He scratched furiously while we waited for Hero Guy to get home and witness the thrill firsthand.

It was a little anticlimatic to vacuum the remains and then peer around our living room and see much of the same type of scenery as I had just cleaned up, mounted artfully on the walls--dead deer, dead bear, dead coyote, dead turkey, dead pheasant...well, you get the picture. At least they're all in once peice and their feathers and fur are all intact.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Too Close For Comfort

Depressing: Def., "Realizing that you and your Dearly Beloved are entirely to close to wearing the same pant size. Case in point - Hero Guy came ' har har-ing' out of the bedroom relating that he had accidentally been wearing a pair of my jeans for the last 15 minutes. He wondered why they felt so weird (translated - TIGHT) until he took them off and inspected the tag. He gloated that at least he knows he can fit into a Ladies Size ___ (you really think I'm going to tell you the number?!). My Observations: 1) He had a MONSTER wedgie, so the jeans were entirely too small for him. 2) They are my "fat" jeans, a size bigger than what I actually wear, but I just like the broken-in feeling of them. Or the roominess or something. 3) They were the stretchy kind of jeans, so an elephant could have painted itself into them. 4) What's he bragging about having a girlish figure for anyway? Not very macho if you ask me. Hmph.
11 comments
Read more

Stickin' It Out

I got married today. Well, not exactly today. It was Friday, June 2. But the year was 1989 - 17 years ago. "Amazing", people say. "Good for you", they comment. "You must have picked the right one", the add. Amazing? Yes. Good for me? I'll admit it. But it has nothing to do with picking the right one, really. It's not because I found the perfect boy, and it's certainly not because he found the perfect girl. It might sound a little unromantic, but there never really is a 'right one' floating around out there waiting in the cosmos for the other 'right one' to crash and connect. There may be 'better ones'; there may be 'more easily compatible' or something or other. But the real story is you start becoming the right one the moment you vow that "you do". When I married, I had been 20 for a whole 33 days, we had just completed a 2-year long-distance realtionship and HE was five years older tha
19 comments
Read more

Mixed Feelings

It's been a long time in coming, but as of this morning, I'm no longer a medical transcriptionist. I'm not sure how I feel about that...a little bit relieved, a little bit sad, a lot bit uncertain about whether I'll regret this decision. For the last year or so, I've found that the transcription work isn't fulfilling the need I once had to stay at home with my babies and have an income. I've increasingly felt that I need more interaction and less monotony. I've also felt the pressure of work that constantly needs to be done, with no sense of ever being really "finished." No matter how much work you've done for the day, there's always another note waiting to be transcribed. That goes for sick days, holidays, vacations days or any kind of days. This year, I've dabbled in substituting as a school monitor and office staff, and kind of found my niche in the last few weeks. I'll be working a couple of hours a day in one of the
13 comments
Read more