Tuesday, September 06, 2005, 18:26
Lord, Help Me
Sometimes I think that my little gray kitten, Sophie, is going to drive me right out of my mind.
If I'm writing out a check to pay the light bill, she's sitting on my lap and jumping up on the table to attack the pen.
If I'm sitting at the computer, she's sitting on my lap and leaping up to land on the keyboard with all four feet.
If I'm taking clothes out of the dryer, she's busy swinging from the towels while I'm trying to fold them.
If I'm sweeping the floor, she is biting the broom and holding on so that not only am I sweeping, I'm dragging Sophie around the floor, too.
If I'm cleaning out the kitty litter boxes, she's in the middle of it all, hooking her claws into the scoop I use to scoop out the litter so that I'm almost putting Sophie in the wastebasket, as well.
If I'm trying to read a magazine or a newspaper, she's chewing on the pages.
If I'm out in the kitchen washing dishes or fixing food, she's climbing up my pantlegs.
And just when I think that I'm about to lose my mind -- I remember that Sophie almost died when she was a couple of weeks old. I remember the hours of sitting by her while she laid on the heating pad, struggling to take the next breath and the next one. I remember trying to get her to eat because eating would help her gain strength. The very fact that Sophie is alive is a miracle.
Never mind that I've got scratches all over my arms and legs and my neck from Sophie climbing around on me.
Never mind that I've got pin-prick puncture wounds on my hands from her playful bites.
Sophie is alive. And, oh boy, *is* she alive. I've forgotten how lively kittens can be.
And right now, I am eternally grateful that it is nap time for Sophie, and that she is curled up on the bed with the big kitties.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Monday, September 05, 2005, 19:59
Ready. . .Aim. . .FIRE!
"Ah, HA!" I said, as I trained my flashlight toward the ceiling of the barn Friday night.
There, on one of the rafters, was a raccoon looking down at me, blinking in the light. I don't know what caused me to look up at the rafters, a noise of some sort, I guess, when I came in the barn to get some hay for the horses.
The raccoon quickly surmised that he did not want to be on the rafter, not when I knew he was there, and started inching his way toward the wall.
"What was the 'ah-HA' for?" Randy asked.
Only a few minutes ago, we had been standing in the backyard, looking at the Northern Lights in the sky, curtains and spears and moving patterns of greenish light; directly above us had been thousands of twinkling stars and the white misty pattern of the Milky Way . I *thought* Randy had gone to the house when I went to the barn to get hay.
"I thought you went to the house," I said.
"I was on my way when I heard you say, 'ah-HA,'" he replied.
I pointed the flashlight toward the ceiling.
"Ah-HAH!" Randy said.
Seeing as there had not been a raccoon in the barn for quite a while, at least for part of the summer, the other night I thought it would be all right to leave the bucket of cat food on the tractor overnight -- just for one time.
Right.
When I came out in the barn the next morning, the cat food bucket had been tipped over and all of the cat food was gone.
And now, it appeared that culprit was hanging onto the rafters for dear life.
"You won't find any birds' eggs or baby birds up there," I said to the raccoon. "The swallows are already gone for the year, you know."
"Want me to get the shotgun?" Randy asked.
"Certainly not!" I said. "But. . .what about the hose?"
"The hose!" Randy replied.
A minute later he came back in the barn, dragging the hose that we use to fill up the horses' water buckets.
"Let me get my saddle out of the way first," I said.
In the meantime, the raccoon was still crawling along the beam frantically -- or as frantically as he could on such a narrow surface.
Just as the raccoon reached support post along the north wall, Randy took aim with the hose.
The raccoon looked both surprised and frightened as he began scuttling down the post, trying to dodge the stream of water while at the same time maintaining his balance. Finally he reached the bottom and scooted under the wall out underneath the wild grape arbor behind the barn. In the summer, when the wild momma kitty's kittens are first out of the nest, she likes to take them exploring under the grape arbor. The kittens have a grand time, playing in the "jungle" that they never even knew existed.
Randy crouched down and trained the stream of water under the wall.
"Take that, you little thief! Get out and stay out," he said. "Maybe *that* will teach you that the cat food in the barn isn't so wonderful."
With one final squirt, Randy shut off the hose and dragged it outside.
As we stood in front of the barn, suddenly we could hear the sound of claws on bark in one of the pine trees at the edge of the yard.
"There he is!" Randy cried, making a dive for the hose.
He dragged the hose across the yard, but it was too dark and there were too many pine boughs to see the raccoon.
"What's that?" Randy asked, looking toward the rock table we have sitting on the lawn and turning the hose in that direction.
"No, shut off the water!" I said. "That's kittens -- Tippy and Sister."
Sure enough, the two black kittens were huddled together on the rock, wondering what was going on.
We waited for a while, but didn't hear any more movement from the raccoon.
"Well," Randy said, as he laid the hose on the lawn, "I hope he learned that the barn isn't especially a fun place to be."
"The poor thing," I said. "Now he's soaking wet."
"Don't feel sorry for him," Randy replied. "There're a lot of people who would have just shot him on sight with a shotgun."
"Yes," I said. "I know."
"That was fun, though!" Randy said. "Boy, was that fun!"
I could understand my husband's reaction to squirting the raccoon. For quite a while earlier this spring and this summer, we chased him out of the barn many times and chased him out of the bird feeder many more times. But still, he kept on coming back.
Time will tell if the raccoon will return to the barn for kitty food at any time soon.
I can say one thing, though -- he's now probably the cleanest raccoon in the entire county.
LeAnn R. Ralph