Mousescapade

Sometimes I write ideas for blog posts at the oddest of times (middle of the night, or at breakfast, sometimes because of breakfast) or in the oddest of places. My room, purse and car are scattered right now with odd bits of paper covered in nonsensical scribblings.

But all that to say, this post is not like those.
This is real and it just happened. The nausea has still not passed.
About 20 minutes ago I was sitting at the computer bemoaning my lack of inspiration when all of the sudden I heard an uncanny yowling. It literally sounded like and angry 2 year-olds we all hear at Walmart.

Now, it's late at night, and I'm alone in the house. 20 minutes ago I certainly wasn't expecting any intruders with angry two-year-olds! I was scared. Really scared. everything is 422% scarier late at night when you're alone in a house. Its a proven fact.

As I turned the corner to see what the commotion was about, I saw the cat bent over the floor, and thought "Darn it! He barfed another hairball!"

If only.

As I got closer, I realized it was not a hairball, it was a mouse. I have never felt such revulsion, shock and nausea all rolled into one. It was terrible. Just terrible. As I looked closer, the feelings did not pass, they only intensified. I then began to feel guilty and ashamed at being so terrified and disgusted at such a harmless (and normally adorable) wee little animal.

I blindly ordered the cat to take it back outside, but my pleas were in vain.... he just looked up as if to say "Isn't this de-meow-lightful?" ... I feel like a lion! don't I look like a lion?? Meow?"

He kept sniffing it and moving it and finally I couldn't handle it anymore I put the cat in the garage, (hoping he wouldn't EVER find any more) and then tried to decide what to do next.
I found the dust pan and knelt next to the tiny creature. I looked at it so long trying to summon up the courage to pick it up, that it almost seemed as if it began to move. This initiated freak out moment #2 because I kept imagining the (possible) tiny squeak that would emerge from it's body as I pick it up.
I then walked past it into the kitchen where I regained my courage only to walk up once more to it and be rendered helpless by the aforementioned emotions. this cycle happened several times before I finally decided to just pretend it wasn't real.

"I'm sure lots of cat owners have pretend mice................... 
that look real.... and have long skinny tails.. stop stop thinking!!!
Its pretend! It's pretend!!!"

I (valiantly) scooped up the tiny thing, marveling at how light it was. Then I looked at the ceiling the entire way to the back door, then went out and tossed it over the deck.

I made a fatal mistake however. I looked down just in time to see the white little body fade into the blackness and then hear the small rustle of the grass as it made contact.
I probably will never forget that moment.
Or ever go in the back yard again.

Please don't get me wrong, I like animals, especially tiny ones!
But it's weird (for lack of a better term) to see death like that, and so unexpectedly. I couldn't bring myself to even look at. It was just terrible. But it is done now, and that is my escapade for the week, maybe the year. More to follow.

Jingle Bells

So I watched this video about a month ago and laughed till I cried.... However, I was hesitant to post it for several reasons.

1. Nearly everything is hilarious to me after midnight, clearly this was no exception
2. I don't want to be that person that only posts sickeningly adorable animals videos, forcing friends and relatives to want to barf.
3. And to make matters worse this is a Christmas themed video and obviously its not even close to December.

Despite all that, I just re-watched it this morning, when things are least funny.....(I don't like talking in the morning, let alone laughing!) and again, almost died.

I really hope this is worth all the hype.

here you go:

A Reposted Post

A dear friend of mine posted on this on her blog, and it was just too splendid not to share. 

A city on a hilltop stood,
with gleaming walls all round;
and all within were fair and good-
but none remembered there, who should,
that sickness lurked within the wood
that did their walls surround.

Ah, foolish women, foolish men
that gave away their lives!
The gates thrown wide, they let it in.
It came, it saw, it conquered then;
no plague like this had ever been.
They would not long survive.

 
O'er ruined streets, 'neath crumbling gates,
a stranger came alone.
The cure he knew, and would not wait
a house of healing to create,
to save them from this deadly fate-
return them to their own.

To those he healed he gave to stay
and labor in his stead.
He taught until they knew the way,
then took himself and went away,
but promised to return one day-
when life was made widespread.

Full zealously they started out,
to call the dying in.
With heartfelt pleas, with hopeful shouts,
they all the city went throughout
and left no room for any doubt
that life was offered them.

Many sick came to their door,
and none was turned away.
Some would not drink, and still abhorred 
the life that could have been restored-
ah, ignorance! that brays for war
when peace is on its way.

Yet others came, gave up the fight,
and drank the healing draught.
Not one was lost, all faults despite-
their strength restored, regained their sight;
they longed to spread this great delight-
and learned the doctor’s craft.

But slowly, something strange occurred:
the doctors lost their zeal;
and, safe amongst themselves conferred,
to fill the air with empty words.
The anguished cries outside, unheard-
men died alone, unhealed.

The healers learned to be afraid-
though naught deserved their fear.
Their dread of failure: shadow-made;
of re-infection: fancy-played.
From windows turned their eyes away-
they held their lives so dear.

The patients’ beds stood often bare,
so few were brought inside.
But one gray eve, a young man dared
approach the steep, unwelcome stair;
collapsed outside and begged for care-
“Please, help me live!” he cried.

The doctors stopped and stared, appalled-
this mound of filth, alive?
His bleeding flesh with maggots crawled;
a sight like this none could recall-
so long they’d hid behind their walls-
could their skills, unused, revive?

Said one, “I can’t recall the name
that used to set them free,”
while some knew how, but still refrained-
afraid, repulsed, embarrassed, drained-
but most just looked away in shame,
pretending not to see.

And so it was, ‘neath walls of white
that housed life’s very breath-
the ones who knew the way of light
refused to venture out one night,
and, silent, watched man’s futile fight
engulfed instead by death.

Oh, shame! to those who, washed in blood,
can never die again;
yet fear this world’s transparent flood-
a shackled prince the source thereof-
and blush to speak the name of Love:
of death the only end.

For more witty, heartfelt felt things that I cannot put into words, travel to her blog Free Indeed and be amazed. 

Welcome to Canada!

The End of a Bunny

Today I saw a dead bunny by the side of the road.

        I immediately thought; "ooohhh sad! poor bunny!"

But then 3 seconds later, I spotted part of a wicker basket on the opposite side of the road, and my imagination couldn't help but 'hop' to a conclusion.

I'm ashamed to say it, but I couldn't help but giggle a bit to myself, picturing an easter bunny waltzing across Maple Street, basket in paw... and then well..... you know.

Arthur the..... Aardvark?

How are these even remotely similar? I have no idea.


baby aardvark                                                                                                      

 then boy with weird ears?