I wouldn’t normally pipe on to talk about the beasties prowling my house, but something strange happened last night and… well I just had to share. I only wish I’d had a sense of mind to take a picture of it.
See at the homestead, I’ve got me a kid, a dog, and a cat. The kid is 9 years old and she’s a chip off the old block and I lovingly refer to her as my catalytic agent of entropy. Because if she can create havoc and chaos, then she’s gonna do it. In a positive, loving manner, of course. The dog is (see me counting on my fingers and toes…) 11 years old and she’s hands down my bestest-truest friend in the whole wide world. And not just because she doesn’t like the color pink. Oh no, the pup is my best friend, because she’s been there for me when the times got tough and when they got better. Since the day she leapt from the kennel into my arms and said with those big, soulful brown eyes, I claim you as my human.
The cat… that’s a completely different story. She did not claim me as her human. Nope, like all cats I have known in my lifetime, she (who has been named Little Bit because she’s a small, sneaky little critter) has attitude. And terms. Everything’s gotta be on her terms. She’s gotta be fed when she demands it. And yeah, she demands it. But it has to be the expensive dry food that doesn’t make her pee stink. Durnedest thing I ever saw was that cat turning her nose up at a dish of tuna. There she was sitting at the food bowl looking up at me and letting out those loud, Meeeeehuman wails. And there the dog, kid, and me stood each of us with a look that said… you have got to be joking. The cat won’t eat… oh well, give it a minute and the dog will nudge her out of the way to get it. Waste not, want not.
And then there’s the let me out of the house, human cry, where she sits at the back door, howls a meeeehuman, then stretches up to ring the huge, old timey keys and keyring hanging on the door knob, and rattles them with another meeeeeehuman! And after I let her out… would you believe me if I said that she will come running when I call, but I have to say the right call in the right tone… and yeah, it goes like this… ma-ma-ma-meow. Sigh. I live in a strange world and, yes, I agree, this is a subject that should come up in therapy.
But that’s not what moved me to blogging today. Nope, sure wasn’t. It’s the cat and her I can bring home the bacon–da-na-na-na–and have my human fry it up–da-na-na-n—oh yeah, like that’s gonna happen. The cat is a hunter. She’s a tabby with some whacked diluted tortoise heritage that has her craving to be the one, the only cat who roams this fenced in yard. And yeah, she’s best buds with the dog. They like to tag team the squirrels and birds. It’s a match made in Heaven. Or Hades, depending on your POV. My POV? Well, I’m not quite certain anymore.
See, there I was last night, minding my own business when all of a sudden I heard…Mama, Little Bit brought us a opossum! Okay, so at first, I’ll admit that I was a bit freaked out and thought that the cat brought us a baby opossum. Which was what any normal, rational mama of a crazy set of critters would think–especially after the cat brought us such lovely gifts as baby squirrels, birds, rabbits, mice, voles, did I mention the birds? Yeah, so I was totally expecting for my ain’t-no-bigger-than-a-minute cat to have brought up some tiny critter that the kid would beg me to nurse back to life. (And yeah, the kid has that gift. She once brought a floating on the top of the water fish back to life during the flush me ceremony. Damned fish came back to life the minute it hit the toilet water. Strangest thing I ever did see. That week.)
So let me just tell you that when I took a gander out the back door at the cat’s latest trophy, I was shocked stupid. Because that durn cat… well, she had dragged up onto the porch, by it’s long tail, one opossum that was as big, if not bigger, than her. I tell ya, in all my years, I ain’t never been that up close and personal with an opossum playing dead. Because 20 minutes after the cat stood at the door to holler, meeeehuman I’m home with the bacon now open the door and get to cooking, that there opossum stood up and scampered off the porch.
And I ain’t never laughed so hard as when the dog and cat figured out that the opossum won’t dead and they were both trapped inside meeeehuman-ing and howling to high tail it to the backyard. LMSAO–That was almost as funny as the time the catalytic agent of entropy grabbed a pink bottle of ‘lotion’ and decided to moisturize the dog’s back end–ya know, just like the mama does after bath time. Of course, the lotion was Nair and I had to field all kinds of questions about when and how the dog got the mange… but now you know why the dog hates the color pink and why Nair will never again enter this house. And yeah, the hair grew back. Just as shiny and beautiful as you please. LOL–never a dull moment is there?