Thursday, January 27, 2011

Varmints On My Porch

There is a dead squirrel on my back porch.  Courtesy of Ashley, formerly known as Angel, now known as John the Baptist, or perhaps Judas.  The story goes like this:  there once was a kitten that hid under the Bronco's hood.  I was suckered by the kids into feeding it.  It is super wild and only after months of feeding it did it ever let us near it, not that anyone other than Ella-Kathryn was really all that hot to hold it.  During the really cold nights recently, I did feel rather badly for this kitten, even though he/she had fattened up quite nicely due to our apparent inability to not feed it too much.  Nightly, I would open the back door, it would start to run then turn back looking longingly to the warm house.  This game would continue for at least 30 min, it would come right to the door, meow, rub against the door, I would try to coax it in and then it would back off.  Finally one night I won and managed to grab it and promptly through it in the garage with Pip our other stray/tame cat that adopted us (cause we are too stupid to stop feeding stray animals - side note, Jeff has requested that he be omitted from the stupid group since he told us not to EVER feed it.)  The bad news is that Pip is male and we just weren't sure what the new cat was.  Not that we don't know how to find these things out people!  It's just that wild and hardly stands being picked up at all let alone inspected.  So, we find ourselves now with this cat which I'm afraid is pregnant or will soon become pregnant if I don't quit putting the da** thing in the garage with an unfixed boy cat! 
Side note (again) - while in Memphis after xmas, our neighbor was caring for Hap and my friend M was coming over to care for the cats and fish.  Apparently at the last feeding before we came home, the back door was not latched all the way and when my neighbor brought Hap back the day we were due home, she found the door open, but since nothing else was out of whack, she assumed it just was never locked.  As she was leaving though, she did notice that the fish bowl was surrounded by water.  Odd, no?  With no other clues as to what had happened, she just cleaned it up, fed him and left.  Well, when we got home later that day, Jeff had jumped in the shower, and I was unpacking.  We had been home a good 30 minutes when Chewie started barking at this skirted table I have near the front door.  I walk over and barely see something darkish behind the fabric and start freaking out thinking there's a stinkin' mouse or something in the house.  Well, no.  It was Ashley, formerly known as Angel, now known as John the Baptist or Judas.  Good gravy!  That cat had been in the house for who knows how long and that certainly explained the water around the fish bowl:)
OK, back today.  Jack comes running in to tell us he nearly had a heart attack.  Ho Hum.  No parental freak out over that drama.  He then tells us there's a dead squirrel by daddy's police car.  Of course we all have to trek out to the see the dead critter and sure enough it's a squirrel and it's dead, it's throat having been ripped out surely did the trick.  Yuck.  Fast forward a couple of hours, we're at the dinner table, with my back to the back doors I notice something out of the corner of my eye.  Wished to St. Patrick that I hadn't.  The squirrel killer thought that since we hadn't adequately thanked her for her gift, she needed to bring it right on up to the door and then toss it around a bit.  Dinner and a show!  Jeff reminded me that cats often do this to delight their owners - oh yes, can you sense my delight?  We all stood at the back door and applauded her efforts hoping to convince her to take her prize elsewhere.  No go.  Then I opened the door and told it how appreciative we were of her hunting prowess and that we were assured that we would never starve with her around.  Still no budging.  Oh well.  After a deerless hunting season, we felt good that at least one member of our family could take care of business.  The only good news out of all of this it that it finally got itself in a contorted enough position for us to verify that indeed she is not a she, rather a he!  Praise God!  No kittens - thank you very much.  Hence the name change.  EK wanted John, which became John the Baptist because of his wildness, but after his refusal to remove the gift, I'm seriously considering Judas.  I mean is the food that I serve you not good enough????

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