This was Maurice this morning, tapping on the glass to get my attention for me to come back inside to feed her. Sometimes she taps on the glass only to get my attention. I suppose. She is an odd cat, as we all know by now. Although she hasn't drawn blood from me in weeks, I think it is more of a situation where I have learned to get in and love on her quickly and then move away even more quickly. She does go sit in Mr. Moon's lap in the evening before we go to bed and she follows me out to the garden sometimes.
Here she was yesterday evening as I was picking greens for salad and she was pretending to inventory the small beet plants.
And of course, she still brings me gifts of dead things.
The last of one of these gifts led to a rather macabre event yesterday. Jessie and August and Levon and I were in the library, reading books to August and then watching him bounce on the horse and look for new books and Jessie and I were chatting away. I had Levon in my arms and I looked up to see that August was holding something and looking at it. It took me about ten billionth of a second to realize what it was. It looked exactly like a toy mouse or rat and although we do have a beloved rat puppet, I knew immediately that this was not that puppet but in fact, a real, formerly live, now dead rodent of the mouse or rat variety.
"Jessie!" I yelled, although I was about one foot away from her. "He's got a mouse!"
Jessie looked up and yelled, "Drop it, August!" and he did and we immediately realized that we had not handled this in the proper way at all because he was paralyzed, his eyes welling up with tears, wondering what in the world he had done to make his Mer and his mama scream so.
In other words, breaking my heart.
Jessie grabbed him up and took him to wash his hands and we babbled on and on, trying to comfort him and explain about how cats kill mice and rats and bring them in the house for presents but that they can be very dirty, and we shouldn't touch them, etc., etc., and that he, August, had done nothing wrong, nothing at all, and had done the right things.
I scooped the poor creature up in the dustpan and we decided that we would go outside and show Boppy and Daddy the rat (which Mr. Moon confirmed it was) and tell them all about it to try and normalize the situation, which we did. He was still a little freaked out, but soon recovered, and when I threw the poor creature into the woods by the railroad track, we all said, "Good-bye, Rat!"
And if August grows up to have a horrible neurotic fear of rodents, it will be all my fault and I've already apologized to his parents.
At least this one didn't have any entrails hanging out. In fact, it looked perfectly intact.
So that was too much nature, part GOzillion.
In other cat news, my next door neighbor called me last night to ask if Jack was okay. She hadn't seen him in two or three weeks and was very worried. I told her that he was fine, as he is, and she said, "Well, okay. I figured you'd let me know if he was missing. Tell him to come visit me and I'll brush his hair for him."
She brushes his hair.
She gives him canned cat food.
I have no idea WHY he hasn't gone to visit her. Forget the canned food, I'd go visit her if she brushed my hair.
I should have told her that Jack had no plans to come and see her again until she took down the Trump/Pence sign in her yard but I didn't have the balls.
They are such a conundrum, these people. They would literally get out of their beds on a cold night to help me find a chicken. I know they would. They give MY cat canned food and BRUSH HIS HAIR! They call because they are worried when they don't see him for while. They keep an eye on my chickens and let me know if anything is amiss.
And yet, they not only voted for Trump, they still have his sign in their yard.
What can you do? This is life in a rural area and just goes to show that people may be completely different from you in a thousand ways, and yet, still be good neighbors.
So remember I was supposed to go get my tooth pulled today?
Well, I went and as I sitting there in the chair, Doc came in and asked if the antibiotics had helped and I said, "Yes, they had," and he said, "Tell me exactly why you want me to pull this tooth."
"Uh? Because it's started to be a problem and I don't want to have to take antibiotics two or three times a year?"
He hemmed and he hawed and then he said, "Well, I just hate to pull a perfectly good tooth and it looks fine and it doesn't have a cavity in it and I'd like for you to be able to get as much milage out of it as you can."
I thought about it and said, "Makes sense to me," and he said to call if and when it started bothering me again and I said I certainly would and that was that.
And then I went to the grocery store and took my own sweet time of it because I knew that Mr. Moon was finishing up the sausage making and I just really did not care to get involved and that worked out well because he had all of those giant summer sausages cased and tied and ready to smoke when I got home.
And, I spoke too soon about Maurice. She came up and wanted some love and I was fool enough to give it to her and now my hand is bleeding.
But not much.
Here's an artwork which August created last night.
It is made of turtle shells, sea shells, and the painted rocks that Owen gave me.
All of my grands have been fascinated by these turtle shells which delights me. Every single time I've found one in the woods I have felt blessed.
And I have been.
A nice chunky post is how this one felt reading it! And as is often the case it provides me with calm.ReplyDelete
Calm is good. Thank you, Jill.Delete
I agree with Jill! Such a nice, chunky, satisfying post! ❤ReplyDelete
Poor August. Growing up is hard!
You are right. Growing up IS hard, even with the best parents and well-meaning grandparents. Lord.Delete
Chunky Yes l agree it translates into English English. Love Maggi xxxReplyDelete
It's also a type of peanut butter! Hello, Maggi!Delete
Your world is very exciting what with the rats and the cats and the Trump neighbors. I would have loved to have been a fly on the proverbial wall when August picked up the dead rat, though. I think it's mighty fine that he even did it, anyway!ReplyDelete
I'm sure the poor child thought it was a toy. A stuffed animal. It was perfectly preserved. Maurice is a good killer. I guess.Delete
Yeah. My Trump neighbors. I just don't know. What can you do?
Ha "Drop it!" has been my mantra lately.ReplyDelete
My grandma tried to brush my hair over Thanksgiving. It was too snarly, but she tried, which I thought was really sweet. She voted for Trump, i'm pretty sure, but i have the good sense not to bring it up in asking her.
I love August's artwork.
I love the idea of your grandma trying to do your hair! I can see me doing this to Maggie one day.Delete
I think that August shows good potential in the art world. Lots of balance in that arrangement.
Re. the Trump voters, I always suspect that people who support Trump often do so out of fear -- because they don't personally know immigrants and gays and Muslims (at least that they're aware of) so they've "otherized" those groups. They vote conservative to keep them away without really knowing them. If they knew them personally, they'd feel differently. That's my bet.ReplyDelete
Your reaction to the rat was interesting -- I mean, it makes perfect sense to not want August to touch it, but you can see how we all develop innate fears of things like bugs and rodents based on the reactions of those around us when we're really young.
Oh, and let me just add, I LOVE your dentist. I want a dentist like that.Delete
You may be giving my neighbors too much credit. They know lots and lots of black folks and "treat them well" but are as racist as can be in some ways. It's so weird, you know?Delete
And yep. That's why Hank has a horrible neurosis about frogs and toads. One jumped on me in the garden once when I was picking strawberries and I screamed and Hank was very young and right there and I do believe that is the cause of his problem with the critters. And Jessie reminded me of that after we'd both yelled at August. It was just so upsetting to see that little boy holding a DEAD RAT! Damn cat.
I believe my dentist has very few fucks to give and just tells the truth. He's an interesting guy. I've been going to him for about a million years.
my cat Emma likes to be brushed but you have to be watchful because it also stimulates her and if you aren't quick enough...teeth and claws. and good for your dentist.ReplyDelete
Jack is a pretty chill cat. Now can you imagine if I tried to brush Maurice? She'd take my hand off at the wrist.Delete
I actually love Jessie's immediate, "Drop it, August!" and his split second compliance. I don't think you both handled it inappropriately in the moment, because you then did all the conscious things to ameliorate fear right on its heels. To my rodent phobic mind, in that moment, "Drop it, August!" was the perfect response. Also, good for you for taking care of that tooth, and good for your dentist for not pulling it for no reason. xoReplyDelete
I wonder if, like Hank, I too developed my irrational terror of bugs from my mothers fear. Probably so. Good for the dentist for being honest with you. I like Steve’s comment about your neighbors. It’s hard to comprehend what motivates people other then fear. JoanneReplyDelete