I Woke Up Early…

This is the second morning in a row that I’ve been awake before 10 AM.  For those of you who have jobs that might seem a little indulgent, but I had one of those for over 30 years and now I get up when I damned well please.  Unless I inexplicably wake up early.  Then the indulgence turns to sorrow and disjointed thoughts.

When I first woke up I kept having potential blog topics running through my head.  Snippets that were totally unrelated.  For instance, I experienced a bit of guilt about providing so many Walter posts and never giving any blog space to my cats.  But then I let myself off the hook because, after all, the cats are normal pets and Walter is not.  Not by a long shot…

Then I thought about discussing this very unusual boat we are getting.  Do we get a normal boat?  Hell, no!  But that’s a post for another time.  Maybe I’ll do that in a few minutes if I don’t get sleepy.  If sleep doesn’t appear soon, I’ll be a grumpy, sleep-deprived zombie whack job when I write it, so be prepared.  Preparations should include an appropriate hiding place, preferably one with coffee.  Mmmm coffee.  That’s what I want right now but shouldn’t have because I really do want to sleep and cease becoming a grumpy, sleep-deprived zombie whack job.  Who am I kidding?  If I get more sleep I’ll just be a slightly less grumpy zombie whack job who is well-rested.

My next potential topic concerned my obsession with a cell phone game rated for ages 4+.  Stop judging me!    It’s perfectly normal to wait impatiently while my flowers grow and watch for some sort of weird bug/creature to appear.  *checks game*  Why do I wait for weird bugs on virtual flowers?  It’s because collecting enough of them can get you spiffy prizes.  These include outfits I can use to dress my character and furniture I can use to decorate a little campsite.  *checks game*  I am currently behind in my bug collecting and I might not make my quota before tonight and then I will miss out on getting that sandalwood resort hut.  It doesn’t matter that it will probably sit in my virtual inventory and never be used, I want it.  I want it bad.  I don’t just want it, I NEED it!

It occurs to me that not having a schedule might be deleterious to my Age 4+ mind.  I don’t care.  I’m going to get that damned sandalwood resort hut if I have to haunt my phone constantly until 2 AM because that’s when the bugs go away and my chance of getting my NEEDED sandalwood resort hut is gone like a bird on a boat potentially bringing me snacks.  Yeah, it’s a strange game and it really is early in the morning for me, isn’t it?


*This blog has now been interrupted while Walter howls at horses.*  Yes, this is happening real-time.  Did I make this up?  No.  If I had made it up, it would be the start of a Walter post.  Since I am currently a coffeeless, sleep-deprived zombie whack job, I will resist writing another post about Walter, even though horse-howling is a rather interesting topic and does deserve to be explored.  Maybe later…


Back to irregularly scheduled programming.  *checks game* I went to a wedding reception yesterday.  How was that for a non-existent seque?  Get used to it, there will be more.  The reception was a casual affair hosted by the blissful couple at a cottage on a lake in the middle of a savage thunderstorm.  I had cake.

What do you all know about docks?  *checks game* We have to get one for the weird boat and I’m a dock virgin so there are many questions.  I was reading about mooring whips and water agitators and started to fantasize about becoming a dock virgin pond dominatrix.


Yet another Walter interruption.  He has traded in his howling for whining.  There is a Golden Retriever down the road. Even though said retriever can barely be seen, except by him, it doesn’t matter.  The whining continues. Horse-howling is a distant memory.


*boof*  I promise, I’m not even going to give Walter his own paragraphs anymore because he’s just indiscriminately boofing at a spot where a Golden Retriever was…and is not anymore. *checks game* Golden Retrievers are like that.  They have the nerve to move out of Walter’s view, and apparently, that is boof-worthy. *checks game*  Oooh, I got some bugs and a white beach dress as a prize!* Thirty-four bugs to go!  *boof*

Wow!  Did you know that you can get a water-agitating, muck-removing thingmabob?  Neither did I.  I know this subject just randomly popped up but I think it’s important to know that The Aquasweep Muck Blaster starts at only $1195!  I cannot make this stuff up.  *boof* Maybe my potential as a pond dominatrix could be achieved if I got a muck-blasting water agitator.  It does sound sufficiently painful, don’t you think?

*boof..bark…howl*  I wish I could put videos here.  That sound combination is YouTube gold.  It’s not often I get a threefer from Walter.  It’s usually one sound or another, but we have now reached trifecta status in the dog noise emission category this morning.  Stand by for farts.  That’s the only dog noise emission left.  Other dog emissions are not allowed.  If he pees on the sofa again there will be whimpering, and I hate whimpering before coffee.

*low growl boof*  Hey, that’s new.  Walter never ceases to amaze me.  Oh damn, I am actually giving him another paragraph when I promised I wouldn’t.  Oh well, you’d better let me off the hook on this one.  Keep in mind that I’m a pond dominatrix and I can moor-whip you into submission regarding Walter paragraph promises.  If the moor-whipping isn’t sufficient, I’ll get out the Aquasweep Muck Blaster and then you’ll be sorry!






Tulip and Ezra

There are times when you have to make something good out of something that isn’t.  After our cat Echo died a few days ago, I was determined to keep my spirits up.  He lived a good, long life and his passing wasn’t quite as terrible as it might have been if he was younger than his 19 years.  Still, I miss him.

I felt a little guilty, but I started looking for kittens quite soon after he left us.  It kept my mind busy and there was that excitement over bringing a new pet into the house.  Of course, this time it would be a challenge because of our goofball Great Dane.  Our entire lives have changed because of Walter.  Nothing is safe if it’s lower than 7 feet off the floor, and even then it’s not safe.  There is nothing we can do that misses Walter’s attention.  Bringing a new pet into the house was bound to create an uproar.  Still, Lily is now an only-cat and she needs allies.  She needs them badly!  Walter is a tour de force and a one-cat army isn’t going to cut it.  Lily needs some paws-on-the-ground support.  So I started my search.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the local shelters had no kittens.  It is past kitten season.  Or too early for kitten season.  I think kitten season is just about any time other than now.   But still, aren’t there always unwanted kittens, even if they are a bit older?  I wasn’t locked into the idea of having tiny kittens, but I figured anything a year old or younger would be able to adapt to Walter.  Adapting to Walter is probably overly optimistic.  Tolerating Walter is probably even too much to ask.  See?  Everyone in this house has to work around Walter and his crazy ways.

After many phone calls, I finally got a lead on a rescue that had a lot of young cats.  It was an hour and a half away, but we were undeterred.  Off we went, armed with cat carriers and high hopes!  The place was packed, not only with animals but also with prospective adopters.  It was a zoo!  We headed for the cat area and sure enough, there were quite a few young cats and kittens.  Yay for us!  Everyone was in a good mood and the animals seemed to be very well cared for.  All good signs.  We started to check out the little felines.  I’m not sure if they were auditioning for us, or if it was the other way around, but it was quite the process.  They had quite a selection and we wanted to make sure we found a good fit.  One took to Bill immediately and another was inquisitive to the nth degree.  After all was said and done, we came home with those two kittens, both around 3 months old.

I’ve had a really hard time getting pictures, but here are a couple to give you an idea of what they look like.  Meet Tulip and Ezra:







Getting a good shot of Tulip is next to impossible.  She’s a scampery kitten, after all.  She’s faster than my shutter-finger, that’s for sure!  She’s mostly black with some white on her chest, toes, and just a hint around her lips.  She looks like she has a tiny milk mustache.  She could be a tuxedoed poster kitty for that Get Milk! ad campaign.

Then there’s Ezra. He’s all-gray with those arresting green eyes.  He looks like a space alien.  Enough of these reboots, Hollywood!  Alien Ezra would is ready to make his debut.  See E.T. Kitty on a screen near you!  Seriously, I really hope he grows into those eyes…they are intense!  They will probably be less overwhelming when he gains some weight.  He was taken from a hoarding situation and he’s had a rough start.  Thankfully, Tulip isn’t as thin as he is, and she has a nice thick coat.  She might have to share it with him till he puts some weight on!  Cuddle up kitties!

As time goes on, I’m sure there will be plenty of Tulip and Ezra stories. They are staying in the bedroom behind baby gates, for now.  That way Walter can see them, but not eat them.  I think it will take some time for him to get used to the idea of two crazy kittens.  I know it will take some time for the kittens to get used to him.

It will be interesting to see how Walter reacts to Ezra when the baby gates come down.  That little guy is kinetically supercharged, even by kitten standards. Walter is Walter.  He still chases Lily, our older cat, much to her chagrin.  I’m thinking the kittens will act as a diversion and she’ll be able to walk through the house at a more sedate pace befitting a middle-aged lady cat.  Who am I kidding?  There is nothing ladylike about Lily, or catlike for that matter.  She thinks she’s a dog and acts like one, too.  As much as she must be missing Echo, I can’t imagine that she’ll be amused to see these little upstarts.  My guess is that Ezra will be bouncing around Lily like Tigger bounces around Pooh while Tulip looks on, bemused.  Lily will view Ezra with gimlet eyes and put up with just so much.  What happens next will probably be post-worthy.  Never underestimate the powers and guile of a middle-aged cat-dog when confronted with an alien-kitten.





I tend to focus on Walter in my posts because he’s so outrageous and there are just so many outlandish stories to tell.  I’ve never really posted much about my cats.  We have Lily, a gorgeous calico and Echo, a very small black cat.  Lily is 12, and Echo is 19 1/2 years-old.  Or at least he was until this afternoon.  This afternoon, we said goodbye.

We adopted Echo from the local animal shelter back when Bill Clinton was still President.  I try to rescue black cats because a lot of people have superstitions about them.  They either think they are bad luck or they get them for nefarious reasons.  It’s chilling to think about, but the shelters will not let anyone adopt a black cat around Halloween.

Echo got his name because he came to us after we lost another black cat.  He was an echo of Maxwell and he looked so much like him, it was really uncanny.  He was a weird little cat.  Hey, what do you expect in our house?  All of our animals are weird.  Walter is insane and Lily, our other cat, thinks she’s a dog.  There is no shortage of quirkiness here, that’s for sure.  In the spirit of full disclosure, the humans are a little odd, too.

Echo’s weirdness became apparent when he was a kitten.  He was black, but he had the voice of a Siamese.  You know, that sort of Mwaorw sound.  Those who’ve had a Siamese know exactly what I mean. That wasn’t very that good, was it?   Impressions aren’t really my forte and my cat impersonations leave a LOT to be desired.

Now all of that Siamese-sounding Mwaorwing was really impressive when he did it for seemingly no reason at all.  And he did it VERY, VERY loudly!  It was always when he was in another room, totally alone.  He only weighed 7 pounds, but he sounded like he was 100 times that weight.  All of that Mwaorwing was so impressive that Walter would rush to Echo and join in with some pretty amazing howling.  It was duet like no other.

The fact that Echo would Mwoaorw loudly when he was all alone was pretty funny, but that’s not all.   As he got older, he would hiss when he was alone, too.  Just one solitary hiss.  It was then that I started to wonder if Echo could see ghosts that were invisible to the rest of us.  If that was true, what on earth were the ghosts doing that made Echo hiss?  Or maybe he was just nuts.  We’ll never know, but the mind reels!

In the past couple of weeks, Echo had not been himself.  He was relieving himself in the most unusual places.  Let’s just say that I should have bought stock in the company that makes antibacterial wipes. I’d be a millionaire!

At 19 1/2 years old, it’s not surprising that he would show signs that he was failing. For the past two days, he acted like he was going blind.  Diabetes was suspected, among other things.  All of this was dreadful, but the good news is that he only had these symptoms for a short period of time.  For his first 19 plus years, he was a happy, healthy, tiny cat with a big voice and a lot of love.

aloof echo (2013_02_23 22_24_41 UTC)



Pigeon Preventers And The Hangry Cats


This was originally written as a guest post for the “Hair of the Dog’ series on It’s a Dog’s Life

I don’t think I’ve published it here, but my brain has been acting up lately.  I think I might have given the link.  But I somehow remember really screwing the whole thing up.  If I’m duplicating it, just smile and nod like you would for someone who just isn’t connecting the dots…because you know…I’m not!  If I haven’t posted it before…it’s yet another dog story…with cats!




One might think that keeping cat food where it should be would be an easy task.  Even with dogs in the house, most people are quite successful in keeping their cats well-fed and happy.  Our cats, however, are food-insecure.  When I first heard the term “hangry” I thought of my cats.  Putting the words ‘hungry’ and ‘angry’ together was brilliant and a perfect way to describe what my poor felines felt about their disappearing meals and the dog burglar who committed these crimes.  You’ve heard of cat burglars?  Leave it to us to have a dog burglar.  His name is Walter.  Walter is a Great Dane and when this all began, he was a puppy.

If it isn’t obvious already, Walter LOVES cat food.  We have a table next to the window in the kitchen.  On this table is a cat bed along with the cats’ food and water bowls.  The cats can sleep, eat and watch the birds there.  Perfect, right?  No, not right.  Not right at all!  Even though we tried to block the access to those bowls with kitchen chairs, and every other type of obstacle we could think of, every once in a while Walter would sneak in and clean out the cat bowl.  Sometimes he’d even drink their water!

When I made a change in the cats’ dining arrangement, all hell broke loose.  Since Echo was 18 years old at the time, I figured he deserved a bit of luxury in his waning years.  I decided to feed him his favorite soft food.  Old age has its rewards and all of that, right? Because Lily, our 11-year-old, tends to be a very hungry big girl (she takes after her mother,) it was necessary to keep the cats’ food dishes separate so Echo could eat all he wanted without Lily’s interference.  Great plan, right?  Yeah well, not so much.

Trying to keep Walter from getting the dry cat food was a battle every now and then.  Trying to keep him from the wet food was war.  Constant war, at that.  I thought I could outsmart him, though.  I’m smarter than the average Dane!  Yeah well, maybe not so much.  It seems that Walter is not an average Dane.  So what next?

I had some shelves in the kitchen corner and I should have known the shelf wasn’t high enough.  Still, that worked for a while till Walter was tall enough that he could reach it.  Next, I got one of those little plastic drawer affairs to put on top of the shelf.  You know the ones where you can add or subtract drawers to your heart’s content.  There wasn’t going to be any subtracting here…I kept adding drawers and the cat food rose higher and higher, but I still found the cat dishes on the floor and they were so clean that I could see my reflection in them.

As this process unfolded, poor Echo practically needed an oxygen mask to climb high enough to reach his food bowl.  It was about five feet off the floor and Walter was still getting taller.  As fast as I raised the bowl, he grew enough to reach it!

Then I had an idea!  I was actually pretty smug about it, too.  I took the top off of the set of drawers and put Echo’s food inside the top drawer.  That way Walter would have to climb five feet and then go up and over the side of an 8″ drawer.  My smugness was short-lived.  It wasn’t long before he figured out a way to outsmart me and Echo continued to be calorically deprived.

Then Walter started reaching beyond the drawer!  There was a little shelf on the wall where I kept the cat food cans.  One morning I got up and found these on the floor…


Walter had figured out a way to take the tops off those cans and then he chewed them into oblivion as he got every last bit of cat food out of them.  How he didn’t lacerate his tongue or his intestines, I will never know.  Those cans of cat food were nearly seven feet off the floor!  How was I ever going to thwart him?  When people are fed up they often say ‘enough is enough’ but in this case, enough was more than enough!  This was beyond enough.  I started to scheme until I had another idea. I wasn’t smug this time, I was merely hopeful.

My plan was to put the cat food in its usual place, put a mousetrap next to it and then put a newspaper over it all.  My theory was that if he got up there, he’d spring the mousetrap, it would snap up and make a racket against the newspaper and scare the heck out of him!  Bill reminded me that a 19-year-old cat might have a heart attack if he happened across my trap before Walter did.  Bill had a point, but I was undeterred.  There had to be a way to stymie this ever-growing dog.  I needed help to implement my cunning plan. There was only one place to go.  I went to the hardware/farm store.

The people at the store are very nice.  They never look at me like I’m an idiot when I ask crazy questions.  I might hear a snicker or two as I’m leaving, but they never do it to my face.  I appreciate that in hardware/farm store people.  Anyhow, I explained my predicament and asked where the mousetraps were.  I was desperate.  If I had to, I’d take the cats to another room for a night or two and put my devious plan into action.  The gal who works there nodded her head as though I wasn’t crazy at all.  She was giving me one of those ‘smile and nod’ looks when suddenly, it was obvious that she’d come up with a crazy scheme of her own.  Did she take me to the mousetraps?  No!  She took me to see a product called Bird Be Gone!

At first, I didn’t understand.  Then she opened the box and took out these spikey things they put on house eaves to keep pigeons away. Pigeon preventers!  They had both plastic and metal versions.  We opted for plastic since there was the possibility of impalement with the metal ones.  At this point, I thought a good bit of impalement was just what Walter needed!  Once I put those evil thoughts out of my head, I went home with the plastic pigeon preventers and some velcro.  This is what they look like…



My theory was that if he got his collar caught on the pigeon preventer and the little plastic prongs didn’t snap, the velcro would come apart and he wouldn’t be left hanging there.  See?  I really didn’t mean him any harm!  However, at this point, it wasn’t about the cat food anymore (sorry Echo.)  This was about me trying to keep one step ahead of Walter.  This whole Great Dane outsmarting his owner thing was going to stop!

That night I put a strip of the pigeon preventer spikes on the front of the drawer in which I fed Echo.  There!  If Walter wanted to get up there, he was going to feel plastic spikes against his neck and back off.  That ought to stop him!  It didn’t.  The next morning, the pigeon preventer was on the floor…with the empty cat food bowl.

The next night I not only reinstalled the first preventer, but I put a second one up there for good measure.  The next morning I was thrilled to see that the cat dish was where it belonged and all was well with the world.  I had thwarted Walter but good!  His days of cat food burglary were over!  And for a few days, I really thought that was true.  I was wrong.

It wasn’t long before I woke up one morning and walked into the living room and found Walter chewing one of the pigeon preventers like it was a dog toy.  When he saw me, his face was a tapestry of emotions.  I saw surprise, guilt, sheepishness; but most of all, I saw triumph.  I quietly went into the kitchen, picked the cat food dish off the floor, and went straight back to bed.




Guest in Jest #41 Article 19.1.a

Today’s Guest in Jest is from penchantress at  Article 19.1.a

A Bengali Cat

I like people who dream or talk to themselves interminably; I like them, for they are double. They’re here and elsewhere.”
– Albert Camus,The Fall

I firmly believe that I was a cat in my previous birth. (I’m not joking, I have my reasons)
Because of a simple observation – Rats do not like me.
I studied Biotechnology in my college(Graduation as we call it here in India). And, as part of Immunology we had experiments to be performed on Rats(Mice). Some of them died because of me(I’m not going into the details because all of you will lose your sleep thinking how ruthless I have been). The thought of it used to give me sleepless nights.

In all probability they hadn’t forgotten it and neither was I forgiven.

A few years later when I moved to another city(Hyderabad) and started living on my own my worst fear was realised. A big fat Rat bit me. Yes.
I was almost paranoid. Because there were 6 girls and we lived in a big house but the Rat chose to bite me. My dosage of 5 anti-rabies injections started and ended & I was confirmed by then that I must’ve been a cat in my previous life.

My ordeal doesn’t end here. A year later when I’ve almost forgotten about this incident and forgiven the rat, one fine day as I entered my bathroom to take a shower I see another Rat gaping at me from the top of my shower head. Oh goodness, I tried communicating that i didn’t mean to harm it & it was all safe atop,but no! Why would telepathy work? It fell just 2inches away from my feet. I screamed. We both didn’t move. (Probably saving one’s own self isn’t just a human quality, why am I talking to myself!)
I waited inside till the rat left through the exhaust (it climbed the shower pipe all the while keeping an eye on me).

Yes,you’re right. I had a 3rd encounter as well. This time it bit off my milk tetrapacks, tore 3 t-shirts & chewed few pages of my diary. That too when I was sleeping.
Nothing, absolutely nothing would happen to any of my roommates. Can you believe that?

I changed the house and started believing it good riddance. Apparently. It didn’t take much time for the rats to find me. This one loved bananas. Everytime I kept bananas,that rat would gobble up 4 of them together. And yet again it would do nothing to my roommates.

Well, life has its own myriad deals.

Also, I love fish & milk. That pretty much fixes this deal. 😅

If you’re reading this and you too have felt this way about anything at all, shoot it in the comment section!

Until next time!


Open Call To All Pets Out There

I have had such a positive reaction to my Walter stories that I was thinking about doing a post from his perspective.  Then it occurred to me that many of you have beloved pets who might want to do posts, too.  So this is an open call to all of them to do a guest post here.

Farm pets would be welcome, too!


Jay from This Is My Truth Now had a fabulous weekly post written by his beloved dog Ryder.  He lost Ryder recently and I have missed those posts terribly.  Ryder is my inspiration for doing something like this.  Darren from The Arty Plantsman asked if I might like a guest post from his doggy friend Molly and that just sealed the deal.

I doubt there would be enough interest to do a weekly thing, but I could publish them as I get them.  If for some reason there are more than I expect then I will space them out.  Would anyone be interested in doing this?  If so, just like Guest in Jest, send an email to mainepaperpusher@yahoo.com and we’ll give those pets a chance to have their voices heard.

Walter sends sloppy kisses!



Images are taken from the Brickell Pet-friendly condos and FSLOVENGLISH sites.

Humph! Day #20 Nobody has a Monopoly on Misconduct

For those of you who have been around long enough to have read this post, I apologize.  For my new followers, I’m repeating a previous post.  A while back a realized that some of my posts weren’t posting correctly and after saying Humph! a few times, I decided to revisit my older posts on Wednesdays.  What better day to have a Humph! day than a Wednesday?  🙂

Nobody Has a Monopoly on Misconduct

Back in the mid 80’s, I worked for a doomed Presidental campaign.  I was only 20 at the time and….ok I was 22.  What’s in a number, right?  At 22 I should have known better.

Soooo, back in the 80’s, I was working for Vice President Mondale in his bid for the presidency.  It was a great experience but it left me jaded toward all things related to politics. Even a squeaky-clean candidate like Mondale had professional campaigners who broke one law after another…local, state, federal…it didn’t matter.  I was so disenchanted.

My job was to meet delegates and convince them to vote for Mondale at the state convention.  One by one, I met them as I traveled throughout a nearby county in my quest for votes.  As you can imagine, I spent a lot of time in the car.

Back then I enjoyed driving fast.  I’ve always enjoyed driving fast.  I can say that now that I can’t drive anymore.  I don’t have to worry that there will be law enforcement folks reading this and conspire to catch me driving 20 miles an hour over the speed limit.

Luckily my time with the campaign came with a rental car.  It wasn’t a fancy car, but it got me where I needed to go in a “timely” manner.  In other words, the car allowed me to go like a bat out of hell.  That was my preferred driving experience until a cop clocked me doing 90mph in a 55.  He was going the opposite direction and I checked the rearview mirror.  I saw him screech to a halt and do a three-point turn.  Damn,  (not the first word that came to mind) I was about to be incarcerated.

Just as I was having this thought I saw a road coming up on my right.  Another thought came to mind in that split second.  I was driving a rental car and it wasn’t rented under my name.  I mashed the brake to the floor and made the turn on two wheels in a cloud of dust.  The road was dirt so I knew there would be no question about where I went.  The trail of dust I left behind me was substantial.

I’d never traveled a dirt road that fast, nor have I since.  I was cranking.  Suddenly a fox came out of nowhere, but I successfully avoided him.  I kept looking in the rearview mirror but all I saw was the big dust plume obscuring my view.  I kept going till I reached the next town.  Only then did I slow down.

Once the adrenaline had subsided, it occurred to me what I had done.  I had outrun the police.  I couldn’t believe I’d done it! I couldn’t believe I’d succeeded! Here I was being jaded about covert political misdeeds and I’d committed the most overt transgression of them all.  It was a brazen move, but it kept out of big trouble.  That was a good thing because I didn’t have a Get Out of Jail Free Card.

I’m a Contrarian…When I’m Not

Throughout my life, I’ve marched to a different drummer.

Most little girls play with dolls but I played with stuffed animals.

My mother would make dinner and I would want anything other than what she put on the table.

My Mom was orderly and tidy.  My room looked like a hurricane had hit it…twice!

My friends wanted to play with hula hoops and I wanted to play tether ball.

So many people are early risers.  I’m a late sleeper.

I refused to meet my high school requirements.

In college, I took the classes I wanted and not the core subjects.

I was a tree-hugger working for a paper company.

Most people eat meat.  I’m a vegetarian.

The majority of people have kids.  I have dogs and cats.

Most plant hybrids.  I plant heirlooms.

Sane people dress warmly for winter, it’s been three years since I’ve worn socks.

A lot of people like new cars, I prefer old cars that are unique

Many people hate heat, I say: “bring it on!”

My husband loves folk music…don’t get me started!


The list goes on and on. So many times over the course of my life people have pointed out that I’m a contrarian.  I’ve had it!  Everyone under the sun says that!  How dare they?  I shouted to masses: “You are all wrong!  I am not a contrarian!”  It was only then that I realized that they might have a point.




Not a Squirrel!

Recently I wrote a post about my squirrel problem.  You can see it here if you want to take a look:  Squirrel!


A quick recap:

We caught squirrels.

We relocated squirrels

Husband happy.

Me, a little bit sad.



Yeah, that’s about it in a nutshell.  Yeah, I had to go there, didn’t I?  Ok, you’re pretty much up to speed except for the relocation details and my view of the squirrels’ thoughts on Bill.

Today I went outside and as I turned back to the house, there he was.  Was he a red squirrel like the others?  I thought so at first but the no…this new creature was a chipmunk.  Oh damn, no!


I have a chipmunk, and not the Alvin kind.  That’s not fair to say really, I didn’t hear him speak.  He might very well be the Alvin kind.  Time will tell….or it might not.  It all depends on how long he’s here.

I looked at him.  He looked at me.  Like using a good shampoo, I repeated this as necessary,  So did he.  It was a woman/chipmunk staredown!  While this went on, many things were going through my mind:

Bill was going to be very unhappy that my birdseed attracted another rodent.

But he’s so cute!

I love my birds and it’s not fair that I can’t feed them without “someone” coming to eat the seed.

His cuteness could not be denied!

I wonder how many chipmunks there are?

I bet they are all cute.

Damn it!  We’re going to have to get the trap out again.

Man, he’s cute!

Could I hide the fact that a chipmunk was sitting on the step like he owned the place?

Because, you know, he’s so freaking cute!


I took a step toward him and he scurried up the lilac bush RIGHT NEXT TO THE BIRDSEED!  That feeder is right outside the kitchen window.  This was going to be trouble.

Even if I decide to “forget” that I saw him, the cats or dogs will probably out him.  They all have highly attuned Squirel-dar, and I imagine that their chipmunk-dar would be just as accurate.

I must refrain from looking out that window.  I can’t arouse suspicion.  But I can’t help myself because of the cuteness and all.

What to do, what to do?  I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll keep you posted!