2007-08-06 - 8:46 a.m.
..I live with ferocious killers...
It's that lovely, quiet, early morning part of British Cannabis day. I'm eating my breakfast cereal, listening to a favorite NY radio station, and looking out over my refurbished porch garden.
I spent two days with my hands in soil: repotting, refertilizing, and reorganizing, followed by a fairly thorough (and overdue) cleaning of the house. The house and back porch both look great. But I soon discovered that it is MUCH easier to overdo when you are 4 mos pregnant. Last night and this morning my back and sides have been seriously complaining about all of the lifting.
Other excitement on this lovely holiday: I woke up for the usual 4am trip to the bathroom, and noticed that the cats were missing from the foot of my bed. As I came down the stairs I heard loud rumbling from the living room - and discovered ferocious Mizzy with a fairly good-sized mouse in her jaws. She was growling at the chair. Or anything within five feet of her.
Well, anytime Mizzy experiments with foreign foods, she feels obliged to share her stomach troubles with our carpet. Not nice. So I spent the next fifteen minutes trying to chorale her towards the door - walking behind the growling beast with the dead mouse hanging out of her jaws and trying to coax her to move towards the kitchen door. Not successful - she darted up the stairs and out onto the top porch where I locked her out. K went downstairs and secured all the doors so that all stomach-related disagreements would occur OUTSIDE. This involves his shoving his French Horn case in front of the cat door in the office.
After about 30-50 minutes of silence, Mizzy started to take on the French Horn. scratch scratch scratch SLAM. Meanwhile, my mind was filled with half-conscious dreams that K had actually locked a whole bunch of people (including me) out of a castle, and we were circling the house - err, castle - trying to find a way to get in before the enemy attached. This went on until 8am, when the castle was breached. Mizzy had pushed the French Horn case AND a chair away from the cat flap with her HEAD.
Aha. Time to wake up then, and stop waiting for the approaching enemy. One quick peak out onto the top porch revealed the carnage. ugh. NASTY. no details. But it is NASTY.
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...they are just words, Suzi... - 2011-08-29