Wednesday, September 06, 2006

That Darn Cat

Recently Blackie has been getting herself locked in strange places.

Up until the last few weeks she was somewhat scared of "outside" and happy to stay indoors. For no apparent reason, she suddenly became fascinated by the outdoors, and started to bolt between our legs whenever we opened the door to the back porch.

One night as I was drifting to sleep I heard her scratching and making soft meows. I thought she was just playing in the kitchen and ignored it. The next morning I barely noticed that she didn't wake me up. When I opened the back door, she was sitting patiently between the screen door and the heavy wood door. Poor kitty.

She also has been locking herself in a tiny closet. The door has swelled beyond the size of the frame and doesn't close tight enough to latch, but instead just wedges into the frame to close pretty securely. The door opens toward the inside of the closet. Despite my efforts to pull the door closed as tightly as possible, I have found her many times stuck in the closet. She must muscle the door open, go inside and inadvertently lean against the door to close it behind her. I was terrified that she was lost outside the first time she did this.

One morning we couldn't find her at all, and then noticed that she was sitting on the kitchen windowsill, intently watching us. The only problem was that she was outside, having spent the whole night out on the porch.

Finally, this morning she also wasn't there when I got up (but had been there two hours earlier when Jonathan left). I noticed her somewhat blurry form as she sat in one of her favorite windows. It took me a few seconds to realize that there was glass between us. She was between the screen and the windowpane. Seriously -- what nonsense.

Blackie is not smart, but at least she's entertaining.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Sunflower Massacre

A violent crime scene has overtaken my garden.

Some vermin, critter or pest has decapitated all of my sunflowers. Their tawny heads lie broken and dead, seed casings strewn carelessly about, at the foot of the once noble plants. Not a single sunflower head remained unscathed to continue worshipping the golden god of the sky. All that remains of their once great glory is the scattered shells from which their children were stolen from and devoured, and the broken combs barren of both vibrant petals and hopeful seed.

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