Cat and Mouse

Mr. O'Malley

I am blessed to live at the edge of the forest, I really am. Except for sometimes. Ninety-eight percent of the time I love seeing the wild critters just outside my door ...fox, squirrels, deer, opossum, rabbits, turkey, chipmunks, coyote, raccoons...lots of songbirds and an occasional bird of prey, too. I take a lot of joy in our entertaining neck-o-the-woods.

Two percent of the time, however, like today... well, I am forced to face my nemesis: Fear.

It’s just this: outside of my door, the critters are cute, inside my door, they somehow become my enemy and greatest concern. I’m not sure why this is...why I lose all rational thought and can hardly function. You’d think after living here for 8 years, I’d be over it. I’m not.

This morning it seems Mr. O’Malley caught a mouse in our basement and brought it upstairs for sport. We were in our normal hustle and bustle heading out the door for the ride to school and so, I didn’t take notice of the cat’s antics ~ even though wee one said “Mr. O’Malley is pawing at the carpet in a funny way”

I arrived back home to find the cat & dog sitting together in the den, making curious faces at the basket near the bottom step. Upon closer investigation I spot the mouse, trapped - or hiding- behind the basket. I feel the blood drain from my face...

From 7:30 am until 12:30 pm the mouse remained in the same spot. The cat had lost interest and I was trying to figure out how to remove it. Silly, I know. I have no strength in this area...this is a “hubby job” only he’s not going to be home for 6 more hours and I have work to do. And I can’t get my work done until this critter is OUT.

I pray: “Lord, help me not to be such a weak vessel... please give me the strength to move this dead mouse outside”. I am such a coward.

I find the broom and a large box to scoop him into and ...what do you know.... when I move the basket to get at him, he AWAKES. He gathers himself and ambles behind my little bookcase. I freak, calling Mr. O’Malley to PLEASE come and finish the job! “Lord, have mercy!” I cannot believe I am paralyzed by a mouse.

I grab a flashlight and shine it into the dark crevasse behind the bookcase. There he is, sitting in a pile of dog hair and dust, seemingly resigned to his fate. Curiously, my thoughts went to St. Ciaran and his affinity with animals.. a prayer went up and then a strange thing happened -

As I maneuvered the little bookcase out of the way, the mouse didn’t move. He sat there .. so small. He could easily fit into my cupped hand. His ears were laying against his head, little eyes staring forward, feet tucked up under his body. My heart & mind transformed... I had not fear and anxiety, but pity.

I put the dog & cat out of the room, grabbed my box, bent down and said - out loud- to the mouse, “If you’ll just help me and go into this box, I’ll take you outside; I’m sure you’ll be much happier out there.”

He went.

Calmly, I carried him outside to the St. Francis garden at the far end of the yard. I knelt down and to my surprise, instead of scurrying, the little fellow walked out and I could see the scratch on his leg the cat had made. I think he’ll be ok. He settled into the clover, turned a bit into a semicircle, as if readying himself for a nap. And, then, as I watched him, he looked up at me - I kid you not, the little guy looked up at me as if to say, ‘thanks’.

Wonders never cease.

*That is Mr. O'Malley at top; the cute field mouse is not my photo, it was found here.

Literary Critters?

"What's that racoon, mommy?"

My 8 year old daughter was working at her little desk beside me, when she uttered this question very quietly. I got up from my desk and walked over to look at her artistic creations displayed across her work space.

“What’s that, honey? What did you say?”

“That racoon...I am trying to remember it because I want to put it on this paper.”

Completely confused, I just stood there looking at her colorful papers, the cut-outs, the glitter, the stickers, looking for some clue as to what she meant. The only thing I could think of was a conversation we had recently:

“The racoon? Do you mean the little racoon that Aunt Jenny raised years ago? Are you doing a story about it? Her name was “Cootie”.

Frustrated at my lack of understanding, her irritated voice said, “No ...not that. The racoon! You know, those words.... I’m trying to remember if it’s seven five seven or five seven five. “

My mind was searching, trying to focus on those key words... five, seven , five..hmm

“Oh! You mean a haiku! “

Her face beamed. “Yes! That’s it! Is it five, seven, five?”

“Yes, it’s five syllables, then seven, then five.”

I smiled, happy with myself for solving the puzzle and relieving her frustration...and even happier to read her creativity:

Joy to you and me!

Springtime is the best of all!

Snowflakes fall down fast!

She inspired me to write one of my own:

Sweet evening sunshine

It must be a blessed cure

For sorrows untold

Racoon portrait is by Ryan Berkley

The Cremation of Sam McGee

I discovered the writings of Robert Service on my ’92 visit to Alaska and am sharing a favorite from the land of the midnight sun:

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,

Where the cotton blooms and blows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam

‘Round the Pole, God only knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold

Seemed to hold him like a spell;

Though he’d often say in his homely way

That he’d “sooner live in hell”.

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way

Over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold

It stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze

Till sometimes we couldn’t see;

It wasn’t much fun, but the only one

To whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight

In our robes beneath the snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars o’erhead

Were dancing heel and toe,

He turned to me, and “Cap” says he,

“I’ll cash in this trip, I guess; 

And if I do, I’m asking that you

Won’t refuse my last request.”

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no;

Then he says with a sort of moan:

“It’s the cursed cold, and it’s got right hold

Till I”m chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet ‘tain’t being dead -- it’s my awful dread

Of the icy grave that pains;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,

You’ll cremate my last remains.”

A pal’s last need is a thing to heed,

So I swore I would not fail;

And we started on at the streak of dawn;

But God! he looked ghastly pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day

Of his home in Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all

That was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn’t a breath in that land of death,

And I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid,

Because of a promise given;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:

“You may tax your brawn and brains,

But you promised true, and it’s up to you

To cremate those last remains.”

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,

and the trail has its own stern code.

In the days to come, through my lips were dumb,

In my heart how I cursed that load.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,

While the huskies, round in a ring,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows --

O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay

Seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent

And the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,

But I swore I would not give in;

And I’d often sing to the hateful thing,

And it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,

And a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice

It was called the “Alice May”.

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,

and I looked at my frozen chum;

Then “Here,” said I, with a sudden cry,

“Is my cre-ma-tor-eum.’

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor,

And I lit the boiler fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around,

and I heaped the fuel higher;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared --

Such a blaze you seldom see;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,

And I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like

To hear him sizzle so;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,

And the wind began to blow.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled

Down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak

Went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow

I wrestled with grisly fear;

But the stars came out and they danced about

Ere again I ventured near;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said:

“I’ll just take a peep inside.

I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked” ; ...

Then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,

In the heart of the furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile,

And he said:  “Please close that door.  

It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear

You’ll let in the cold and storm --

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,

It’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

Happy Mother's Day!

A little chuckle, courtesy of my favorite crab.

And, in case you haven't seen her site, Maxine.com

Check it out anytime you need a good snicker ;-)

Wishing you all lots of love and laughter this Mother's Day!

Low Expectations

Entrepreneurs, I've got some words of wisdom for you: good customer service. If you provide this from the get-go, you'll be heads and shoulders above the rest.

Maybe I'm becoming too cynical, but when it comes to purchasing/exchanging goods or enlisting services, I have low expectations. This serves me well because it increases my chances of being pleasantly surprised and lowers my chances of being disappointed.

I don't expect the lady at the drive-through to get it right everytime. Sampling new foods is adventure eating! Nor do I expect all the sizes/colors to be correct in the clothes I ordered online. Hey, maybe puke green looks better on me anyway. I didn't even get bent out of shape when the poncho I returned for exchange, became a return for full refund. I probably didn't need it anyway...

I have come to find it humourous that everytime I take my animals to the vet, I have to make sure they have the correct 'amy', since apparently there are two of us with very similar ID's. This came to my attention when they inquired about my dying cat. "What dying cat?" I asked with a puzzled face. "Oh....uhm,....aren't you at 135 Oakvale?"

"No"

"Oh, sorry."

I'm sure there's a silver lining to it. Maybe I can inquire about that other amy's bill.

Low expectations serves me well, but I do have my boundaries. What really pushes my buttons is when I have a problem, a defect with the product, poor service, etc. and have to make an exchange or inquire over the phone and I am met with apathy or worse, disdain.

Whatever happened to "the customer is always right" ? More likely, it's an attitude of "what do YOU want? why are YOU bothering me ...*sigh* only 30 more minutes till 5:00."

Ohhhh...I try so hard to be calm, to take names. Today I've waited at home all day for the repairman to fix our dryer. This appt. was made days ago, online with e-mail confirmation and ALL pertinent information correct. When I finally looked up the phone number (funny how they never give you a phone # anymore ) to inquire, the conversation would have been laughable had I not been so angry.

Not only did they not have our service order in their system, they had my in-laws phone number and P.O. Box on file, tagged for this service ....from six years ago. The young lady on the phone informed me that had the phone number been current, the repairman would not have had trouble reaching us.

This is where I had the mixed emotion of giggling .... and pulling this young girl's ponytails.

I calmly explained that all info on the e-mail confirmation was correct, the number, st. address, time of appt., date set, etc,, etc. AND that I had been waiting all day. (Why is their time always more valuable than mine?!) I refrained from saying that the company would receive an invoice from me for the $59.00 service call.

Anyway, I have HER name and all pertinent information. She now knows their online customer service system has a glitch and needs addressed. She knows that I was an unsatisfied customer and will be taking my business elsewhere.

My moral for the day - don't expect much. It'll keep your blood pressure lowered and when you DO meet those rare gems who provide service with a smile, you'll feel like you just won the lottery ... well, almost.