Thursday, June 23, 2011

A New Level

Don't be fooled by the benign squint on Mia's face. She's a member of a gang of cold blooded killers. A gang that lives in my house. I've unwittingly been supporting this gang for years. They're reign of terror over small woodland creatures knows no boundaries. I'm sure there are wanted posters with their faces on them hanging in every vole hole and chipmunk den for miles around.
Even though she's the smallest, I think that Mia is the ringleader. Her method of choice is to catch said quarry and then bring it into the house and release it for hours of bait and switch fun. She and Marbles are the main serial killers, though Big Zeke isn't above joining in the game now and then. Miss Girl would never, never participate in any sort of killing behavior. She's a perfect lady (partly why she's my favorite, there's no blood on her paws).

We had a chipmunk living in the house a few weeks ago that I would see darting around periodically. He got so bold (and generally pissed off) that he would jump at the cats, and Becks when they came near his hiding spot (behind a curtain, in the bookcase, etc.), chirping in as angry a tone as a teeny furry creature can muster. It was almost cute, but also a little sad. He just wanted to go home, I'm sure. Well, I found a dead chipmunk on the oriental carpet in the dining room two weeks ago and figured that was the poor, angry chippie who finally met his maker at the claws of Marbles. Then I had an awful thing happen last Monday. I mean, awful. I walked into my bedroom at approximately noontime and I was bowled over by the smell of dead animal as I passed thru the doorway. GROSS. Immediately, I got on my hands and knees and began searching for the offending carcass, cursing the cats the entire time. Jonathan asked me what I was cursing about and when I told him he said, "You better find it!" Thanks, honey. The thing is that I could not find it. It was baffling and smelly. And there were flies buzzing around. Ewww. Jonathan came in to take a turn at the morbid mission. HE couldn't find it either (ha!). This was really not funny. The flies were buzzing around our bedroom like B1 bombers. The room was virtually humming and I needed to find the carcass. So, I followed my nose to the strongest scented area. It was Jonathan's beautiful antique mahogany bureau. Please, no I said to myself. Removing each drawer gingerly, I could tell that I was onto something for the scent of dead was escalating to a gag inducing odor. Pointing my flashlight into the back corner of the bureau revealed the source of foulness. A decaying chipmunk carcass. Apparently, he'd been forced into hiding and forgot to come out. So he died. In Jonathan's bureau. And I had to tell Jonathan.
Well, of course it was all fine despite the small speech on cats, my cats and how horrible they are and why do we have to have them, etc. He even removed the carcass since I couldn't possibly touch it even with gloves on and several layers of plastic bags. Very gallant of him. I chose not to tell him about the small maggot collection I found in the corner of his drawer. Instead, I had to man up and get those nasty suckers out of there by myself. Marbles actually had the nerve to come into the room and poke around in the drawer that was on the floor while I was doing this wretched job, acting all curious and cute. Unbelievable. So that's this week's grisly tale of life at my house. Just when I think I've had to deal with the grossest thing yet, my animals manage to trump me with a new adventure of disgustingness. It's absolutely ridiculous. I don't know many people who have had to excavate rotting chipmunks and maggots from their spouse's prized antique bureau. I might be alone in that particular category. Lucky, lucky me.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Why was Mary, Mary so contrary anyway?

While we were plunging headlong into the darkest depths of February frigidity, I truly thought we'd never see green grass, or flowers blooming ever again. Here are some photos to prove that I was wrong. Phew! Top left is a shot of some dahlia's (which I LOVE) and Becks (who I also LOVE). Top right is our front porch, with Marbles (aka Barbara Ann) sitting as the greeter on the steps. She's a photo whore. As I was walking up the front lawn with my camera she pranced out from the side garden and placed herself square in the middle of the shot. It's all good, she makes a nice compliment to the moldy steps. (note to self:paint the front porch steps this year, they look trashy) Bottom left is a pic of the garden in front of the barn that Jonathan completely revamped this year. That's Dan, the horse peering out from his stall. And lastly, the bottom right photo is of one of the lovely hanging baskets that Jonathan planted himself. And that's Dan, the horse, again. Have you noticed all of my photos seem to have an animal in them? They are freaking everywhere.
Jonathan turned into some kind of ninja/Martha Stewart gardener this year. I threw some ideas out there of what I had in mind and the next thing I knew the dirt was flying and he was calling out, "Come see this and tell me if you like it here!" He was all very feng shui about the whole placement of each plant/bush. It was serious business and he got irritated when I didn't give each planting the proper amount of attention. I'm glad he got so into the whole project, because gardening really hurts my back and frankly, I don't have the eye for it. My contribution has been dead heading religiously and watering. I can handle those two jobs. Looking at the melange of colors and variety of petals makes me happy. What the hell, it's June. How can you not be happy in June? I'm going outside to sit amongst my cheery flower pots and sip my coffee. I wish I could bottle the feeling of a cool summer morning so I could dispense it in small doses over the course of a cruel winter. But that's what vodka is for, I guess.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Wow, over a month since I last wrote a blog. I'm embarrassed to be here. I just want to slink in, type a few sentences and then slink out. After a few days of purported slinking, I'll give the impression of diligent blogging. "Look," I can say when I announce on Facebook that I've got a new blog(s) written, "Four blogs in four days. See I'm a dedicated blogger, not a pretender who only writes on a whim of passing fancy". (although, who doesn't love a passing fancy?) I could be like the bloggers that fill their posts with pictures. That's way less time consuming. Just hit a few buttons, write a witty sentence or two of explanation and your blogger status is sealed with a gold star. I'm a slacker blogger. A wannabe. It's going to take some dedicated effort, but I'm going to try to do some consecutive blogging. No promises, no pressure, just going to "attempt" this feat. And by the way, that's a picture of Big Zekie working on his summer figure. He becomes a barn helper when the weather turns warmer. Here he is keeping an eye on our new young horse in the paddock. He's a good employee. Works for Friskies and doesn't talk back. I love Big Z. Okay, I'll stop now. Hope to be back soon. :)