My son is my hero right now (well, always, but that’s a different story☺). He just got up to save me from my mighty huntress cat’s latest find.
I get upset when the cats bring in dead stuff, but I get more upset when they bring in not-yet-dead stuff. Josh came to the rescue.
It was a hummingbird of all things! I’ve never heard of a cat catching a hummingbird before.
He took it outside and it may be just shocky… or it might be too late. But at least it has a chance now.
Thank you Josh.
*not the actual hummingbird involved, who is now in a witness protection program (lol).
Do you ever have one of those moments when you are totally disgusted with yourself?
I’m having one now.
I have a very old persian-type carpet in my bedroom. It’s funky and threadbare. I’ve just never bothered to do anything about it. It’s hard to vacuum because it’s thin and the vacuum always tries to eat it. So I’ve been very neglectful, lived with the giant dust elephants created by three cats and a couple of visiting dogs, and just swept it occasionally when my conscience demanded really really loud.
In an old house like mine (92 years old), nothing is airtight or plumb. So bugs and moths in the summer are par for the course, especially in the south. You just live with it. This summer seemed worse than usual in the moth department, so I finally began to investigate and this is what I found:
Moths! Old-fashioned carpet-eating, wood-devouring, clothing-destroying moths! Whole sections of rug under a file cabinet are down to the backing threads. The detritus (yuck!) of a summer’s crop of moth leavings littered the area before I vacuumed them up. So this shot actually looks better than what I initially encountered.
It’s like this under every piece of furniture that’s not either flat on the rug or high enough for light and air to circulate.
So, we’re in for a summer-clean. Even though it’s hot, muggy, and miserable, we’ll be opening all the windows, tearing up this particular rug, taking down curtains to wash, vacuuming the living sh*t out of anything that holds still, and examining all the wool and natural fiber items (which abound — just my yarn stash alone could be a challenge) for damage.
The killer is, I really knew it sooner. I just didn’t want to cope. So now I have twice as much to cope with. And it’s all my own fault.
Wish me luck!
Apparently, my little creek across the road still has some fish left in it!
And how do we know? We know this because the mighty George felt like bringing home his catch again last night.
Ah, the joys of pet ownership….
George the Content has re-morphed into George the Hunter. When I got up this morning there was a dead fish on the kitchen floor.
I think that has us up to a count of 7 or 8.
Happy Friday everyone!
Sometimes, all you need is a picture to make your point…
Well, here we are again.
The creek is high, it’s raining, and George has been fishing.
There’s just nothing that sounds like a cat with a fish…
George has a peculiar yowl when he brings one in that’s a combination of a throaty growl and a piercing wail.
My reaction is a little like a Londoner during the Blitz…. “incoming, incoming!”
Fortunately my resident knight-in-shining-armor (in the person of my son Joshua) came to the rescue, disposed of the remains, and informed me that it wasn’t a record-breaker.
Stay tuned for seconds…
There’s a big fish under my kitchen table.
While I was eating supper George came through with loud cries of triumph….
Eight inches and flopping!
I have nothing more to say on the subject
I happily shared the scraps with George and Little Miss (Topaz doesn’t do “human” food).
I probably shouldn’t have done that.
This morning George brought me a present — another fish!
I heard the piercing call of “I’ve got something” echoing through the house at about 6:30 this morning. My, he sounded proud of himself!
Reluctant to get up and face whatever small furry or feathered creature had met his end at George’s claws and fangs, I stayed in bed, ignoring reality for a while.
When I finally eased into the kitchen and looked around, there was a small, very dead, fish.
We started out to just see a movie, but the lines were too long…. So we detoured to a bookstore…. Then on to an Italian bistro with antipasto, wine, tiramisu and espresso…. And, finally, the early evening show of the movie.
So here I am, home again.
Even though we only had to walk about two blocks, I’m ready for bed! It was a lot of fun, though, just getting to browse and laugh (and cry a little).
Removing yourself from ordinary day-to-day pleasures and routines can be such a gift. I’ve treasured the time I had recovering from surgery — the lessons about letting go of expectations, accepting limitation and allowing others to help me. But my favorite lesson was remembering to cherish the satisfactions of everyday life.
Getting up for work and moving without pain. Seeing colleagues and having them welcome me back joyfully.
Finding I still love what I do for a living. Feeling strength flow back a day at a time. Chatting in the hallway at the office. Being welcomed home by the cat running to the back door.
Today, I felt almost dizzy from the wealth of books and magazines, games and puzzles at the Barnes & Noble. I bought my annual calendars (at half price ☺) for the office and for home, two small jigsaw puzzles and a paperback. Such extravagance on top of eating out and a movie; however, today felt like a true celebration.