Thursday morning I stepped outside and was greeted by the plaintive yowls of a cat in dire straits. I followed my ears to the persimmon tree, where Hybrid, one of Stripes’ half-grown kittens, had gotten himself (or herself; I haven’t checked genders yet) stranded up in the branches.
When life throws the old Cat Stuck In A Tree cliché at you on top of everything else, all you can do is laugh at the absurdity and go find a ladder.
Hybrid was soon rescued.
But this is turning out to be a rough week for the animals. We have another unexplained horse wound, this time on Mahogany’s leg…
…and the chicken flock seems to be shrinking. I need to do a head count one of these nights while they’re roosting.
That afternoon I went to another VBS meeting and helped paint the camp-themed mural until it was time for my worship team meeting to begin. That’s also Youth Group night and pretty soon there were kids all over the place and none of them were Luke or Elizabeth because they were still at camp and I was ACHING with missing my babies by the time I left for home.
This morning I awoke to the sound of alarmed chickens and something chasing them. I ran outside to find Steve’s dog Brutus in hot pursuit of a hen. For some reason Gericault and Brodie were watching this but not putting a stop to it. Maybe because they’re friends with Brutus? I don’t know, it was pretty odd. Even odder was that Brutus didn’t even seem to grasp the fact that he was busted. I went after him, yelling “NO” and “GIT” and “GO HOME” and he just kept chasing one chicken after another like I wasn’t even there. Finally I threw a rock at him. It nailed him on the shoulder and he fell over like he’d been shot or something. When he got up he was three-legged lame. Part of me felt bad because I’d only meant to chase him away, not injure him, but it was a very small part. Chicken chasing is no joke.
I sent Steve a text message: “Keep your dog away from my chickens.”
He actually called me on the phone a few minutes later, something he hasn’t done since things got ugly. He asked if Brutus was still here, and I said I didn’t know because I was back in the house now. I told him about the rock I’d thrown and Steve said he’d come up and look for him. It was weird because this was Steve’s Friendly And Agreeable voice, and I did not know what to make of it. I stayed in the house, because I did not feel like looking at Steve this morning. I knew I’d see enough of him at the Parent Orientation Program later in the day.
I’m going to end this post here, because the kids are home now and freshly bathed and now we’re going to watch The Brave Little Toaster in a big snuggly pile on the sofa.
Hi Debora, I enjoyed reading your blog. Since, I am in Australia I find your narrative of family life very interesting. Hope all goes well for you, God Bless and regards from
Nothing finer than snuggling with the little ones after a rotten week! Welcome back and hope they had fun.
Deborah — Thanks for the kind words. I hope you haven’t gotten the impression that all American families and towns are like mine…I think I just won the Weirdness Lottery or something. ;^)
Mia — True dat!