Nocturnal Transmissions

It's late in the evening, an anguished yet curiously muffled “mrowr” can be heard. It's not the usual furry suspect either, so what's going on?

Oh. It's HER. She found mouse, dammit.

When mouse first arrived, it was pretty – red felt body, little green ears, dark yarn for a tail. Catnipped, of course.

A year down the road, it's been rubbed, body-checked, drooled on, stuffed under the oven, and now has no resemblance to a mouse, cute or not. And we can't throw it out. She finds it. She wanders with it in her mouth, yowling, late at night.

Sigh.

Creature Comfort

Tail end of a long day. Listlessness had set in.

The clock was
.
.
.

going
.
.
.

too
.
.
.

slow.

A client arrived, not with a briefcase but with a tiny bundle of wrinkly tan fur. A black & tan face with intelligent black eyes stared at me audaciously. The wee red halter only accentuated how small she was.

“This is Cassie,” he said “she’s four months old.”

When she scrambled onto the counter for a little love, I knew that were I to eventually share my life with a pug like her, I would be fortunate.

The rest of the day flew by.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

After what feels like weeks of listlessness, I got a caseload of nervous energy yesterday afternoon and did things I’d been avoiding – made phone calls, lists and lunch, arranged meetings, did laundry and got a lot of loose ends tied. I went to bed just after midnight.

My reward was a delightfully deep sleep with no Yowler tummy alarm… and an alarm clock that chose not to go off at all. Lunchtruck woke me in a panic, ten minutes before we were supposed to leave our quiet home.

Sigh.

So there’s no thirteen Thursday this week. Just me rambling on…