When I step outside to throw something in the recycling bin, I might be gone for ten minutes. My family doesn’t wonder after me anymore, because, cats.
The neighbors’ four cats want us to adopt them. Or, rather, three of them do. Callie, the oldest and wisest, with whom I’ve had stunning conversations, knows better. She thinks we’re a little unstable. Or knows that I am.
The one we’ve named Caramel now sleeps in our yard. Whenever a door or window opens, she starts meowing. I once found her asleep on a carpet square in our garage.
My youngest daughter was the first to befriend Caramel, so now, when we hear her meowing, one of us will say to her, “Your friend is calling for you.” Now my daughter sighs. Befriending a cat can be exhausting. I suggested she take her book outside so she can read and pet at the same time.
I suspect Caramel was initially so skittish because she lives with three young boys, who perhaps are a little rough with her. Clearly, she doesn’t feel that way with Joe.
Read the rest of this entry
This may come as a shock to readers, but my two-year-old is not fond of napping. When I announced naptime, he hid behind the Curtain of Invisibility.
To prove their love and devotion, my kids will often let me sleep with stuffed animals carefully chosen from among their vast stores.
It’s a little like paying tribute but without the volcano. One daughter will even hold out the proffered gift, head bowed, and back away, still bent at the waist, arms out. She’s a silly one. I don’t know where she gets it.
Lately the girls have been on a rabbit kick, so the space between Husband’s and my pillows has become filled with Thumper, Hopper, Flopper, and friends.
Five stuffed rabbits, one bear, and one Alf in an apron and chef’s hat.
Husband said, “Why do there seem to be more animals here instead of less?” Read the rest of this entry
“I forgot to tell you,” my husband says, “When I was in my office today, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked over and there was a spider on my shoulder.”
My eyes widen in horror.
“It was just a little one.”
My eyes relax a smidge.
“My first thought was to brush it off, but then I remembered this is October. I’ll just walk around and introduce it to people as my pet.”
“But then I forgot.”
Me: “You forgot?”
“Yeah. I must’ve gotten distracted. I forgot all about it.”
“So what happened to the spider?!” Read the rest of this entry
On our walks to the mailbox, the neighbor’s cat, Callie, comes out to greet us with a meow. I respond in kind.
Callie the Kitty
Callie often accompanies us the rest of the way to the mailbox, but today, she stopped short.
“You coming, Kitty?” Joe asked.
She merely looked at him.
“Mom, ask Kitty if coming,” he said in his sweet two-year-old way.
And because I speak Cat. Obviously.
What’s a mom to do? I turned to Callie and said, “Meow. Meow. Meow meow?”
Here was her response: Read the rest of this entry
Just like last time, the grocery store check-out line got long once I entered it, so Chex Mix Guy was called from what I assume is referred to as “the back” (even though it’s near the front of the store).
I watched him push through the thick hanging plastic doorway that separates the riffraff from the employee-only Cave of Wonders and scurry toward the check stands. When he looked up and saw me smiling, he hung his head and shook it.
“You’re always causing me trouble,” he said.
Here I had two options for how to respond. See if you can guess which I chose:
A. “I’m sorry. Just bad timing, I guess. I hope you weren’t in the middle of something important.”
B. Roll my index fingers around one another in a wide arc like a spinning hamster wheel and say, “Rapido! Rapido!”
The last time I was at this store, so were the cops. Apparently shortly before I arrived, someone couldn’t be bothered with the whole check-out process and simply walked out with a basket full of expensive liquor. CM Guy was off to the side speaking with the police. I guess not even cops warrant passage to the mystical magical “back.”
Mibryant of pixabay.com was kind enough to take this photo of my liquor cabinet to illustrate this blog post.
So on this visit, I, “Crazy Chex Mix Lady,” had my line all ready to go should I get the opportunity to speak with CM Guy.
“I saw the cops here last week,” I began. Read the rest of this entry
I found this story in my drafts folder from about two years ago!
Raccoon photo courtesy of Pixabay.
We spotted a raccoon. In our yard.
Normally this would be met with a little excitement, mingled with a twinge of fear as in: Don’t let the kids get close; it could be rabid.
But tonight the sight meant: We have chickens! Get that b*stard out of here!
No one said that, of course. The children, after all. But Hubs and I were thinking it.
He grabbed a stick and chased after the raccoon, which jumped on the lattice fence. As it was crawling down the other side, Hubs jabbed the stick through a hole and got the racoon in its belly. It fell the remaining two feet and scurried off.
[If you love all creatures, great and small, including chicken killers, my apologies.]
“That will keep him away. But not for long,” Hubs said.
The children went on the offensive. Armed with sticks and a surprisingly functional homemade bow and arrow, they kept guard, marching back and forth along the fence. Read the rest of this entry