Sunday, January 01, 2006, 20:48
Just When You Think You Know Someone. . .
Just when you think you know someone. . .something happens.
Saturday afternoon we had a housefull of company for "Christmas." Well, it was 14 people, which was a "housefull" for us -- maybe not for someone else, but it was for us.
At one point in the afternoon, our little tabby, Bobby-cat, hopped up on the railing outside and looked in the dining room window, indicating she wanted to come inside. It was not too cold Saturday, so Bobby-Cat had spent most of the day outside, watching the birds as they came to the birdfeeder.
Bobby-Cat came inside, took one look at the people in the house, and made a bee-line for the basement door.
"But Bobby," I said. "You don't like going in the basement."
Bobby-Cat doesn't like going in the basement because my orange neutered tom, Gilligan, is in love with her. Bobby-Cat does *not* return the sentiment, and she hates it when she goes downstairs and he sees her and then tries to give her loving head-bumps and to snuggle up to her.
Bobby-Cat, who under normal circumstances is a sweet, affectionate cat, didn't care. She wanted to go down in the basement. So I let her into the basement.
Hours later, when the last people had left for home at 7 p.m., I went downstairs and coaxed Bobby-Cat into coming upstairs.
She did come upstairs, but she wasn't happy about it. She ran from room to room, looking wild-eyed and upset and fearful, and then she wanted to go downstairs again.
"But Bobby-Cat, everyone went home," I said. "And besides, you don't have to be afraid of any of them. There isn't a one who would hurt you -- and most of them are extremely fond of cats."
Bobby wasn't buying it. So I let her downstairs.
Over the course of the next few hours, I let Bobby-Cat upstairs three or four times. Each time, she ran around the house, looking wild-eyed. Then she either wanted to go back downstairs. Or she wanted to go outside.
This morning Randy was at his wit's end after letting Bobby-Cat outside for the fifth time. She would go outside, then a few minutes later would come back inside. She would be inside for a little while, then she would desperately want to go back outside again.
I'm not sure how long it's going to take Bobby-Cat to recover from having a housefull of people. I really can't understand it, either, because she is such an affectionate little kitty cat.
Of course, I don't know how long it's going to take me to recover, either. Not from the housefull of people, per se. From everything I went through to get the house to the point so I *could* have a housefull of people. . .
The sun is shining a little bit today for the first time in about two weeks. It seems to me that a little sunshine -- even if it is hazy, watery sunshine, is an appropriate way to start out the new year on New Year's Day 2006.
Happy New Year!
LeAnn R. Ralph
Friday, December 30, 2005, 16:48
Happy New Year!
I am finished! The house is painted! And it only took me 106 hours!
I finished painting the last wall Thursday night at 11 p.m.
Now I have to go into town and get my groceries. I also have to clean the rest of the house that has been neglected while I have been painting. And start cooking.
And it is snowing today. And raining. And misting. I am hoping that the rain is not freezing onto the road surfaces. So far, it has snowed about 3 inches. Great. Just what I needed. Shoveling my paths will have to wait until later. Which is okay anyway, I suppose, because I'm not sure how much more it is going to snow.
My two dogs are not especially happy about the snow. At the moment, our Springer Spaniel, Charlie, is outside chewing snowballs off his feet. When the snow is wet, he gets snowballs that build up between his toes and on the back of his legs. Our Shetland Sheepdog, Pixie, gets snowballs on her feet, too. When she came inside after I had fed the horses and had taken the dogs for a walk down the length of the hayfield, I had to pull snowballs off the backs of her legs.
Well, actually, I didn't take the dogs down the whole length of the hayfield. I went most of the way by myself. When the snow is wet and heavy, Charlie gives up about halfway and lies down to chew snow off his feet. Pixie gives up right away and just waits for me to come back.
The worst snowball Charlie ever had was quite a few years back. I had taken the dogs for a walk up the dirt road north of our house during a wet, heavy snow in March. At one point, Charlie laid down and refused to come any further. When I went back to see what was wrong with him, I discovered he had a snowball the size of a basketball attached to the front of his chest. It took quite a bit of effort on my part to break it up and get it out of his hair so he could stand up and walk.
Anyway, the painting is finished! And I have to get busy with other things. I am beginning to believe that I *might* just make it by the time people start arriving on Saturday to celebrate Christmas.
Happy New Year!
LeAnn R. Ralph
