Nature's drive to persist despite disaster seems, to me, a more truthful and powerful inspiration for our own perseverance than any imaginary divine purpose could ever be.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Obviously, I was going to. But then I didn't. I even threw away the evidence. But then, later, I started picking it out of the trash. Then I stopped. What was wrong with me? I was conflicted. But, for you, dear readers (all 3 of you) I asked myself: what, in your heart of hearts, would you really want me to do? So, I donned a pair of rubber gloves, pawed through the small amount of trash and pulled out what I'd thrown away this morning.
This morning Chip commented on how annoying the cat was being last night. I asked why he didn't shut her in the other room (her food/litter box/water place) which is what we normally do late at night when she's being irritating. She usually follows us happily into the other room and then we close the door and she hangs out in there until morning. Chip said, "She wouldn't follow me into the other room."
I replied: "Huh, I couldn't get her to follow me either when I got up to pee. Not even when I rattled her food bowl."
To which Chip said, "Huh. Weird. Maybe she was busy waiting for a mouse or something."
She gets obsessed with guarding certain spots if she's had a hint of mouse activity. I nodded and said, half-jokingly, "Yeah, in the middle of the night I thought I felt her pouncing around on the bed like she was chasing something. I had a brief thought that maybe she'd brought a mouse up on the bed, hahaha. I just pushed her off the bed with my feet and she went away." [fyi, she has done this very thing in the past. Live mice. Running around. On the bed.]
As I flipped the covers open to swing my legs out of bed, something odd on top of the extra blanket caught my eye. I had to grope for my glasses so I could verify my suspicion.
You're probably familiar with the phrase "sleeping with the fishes", a classic mob-movie line that means - you're a deadguy. And even if you've never seen it, you at least know about the scene in the Godfather where the guy wakes up to the severed head of his prized horse in bed with him. So, what's it mean when you wake up in the morning and discover that your cat has left this for you in the folds of the extra blanket; that all night long you've been sleeping with a severed mouse head?
Picture artfully cropped to protect those of a more delicate constitution.
It's been quite the season for severed animal heads around here.