The Spider and The Roomba

My little Roomba vacuum was opposite me, having completed the living room, but it moved an inch, stopped, moved another inch, stopped, and continued that way. Normally, it would trundle off down the hallway toward “home,” but it was Inch. Stop. Inch. Stop.

 

 

What the devil? Was it broken? Something maybe caught in a wheel? But then I saw it—a large black house spider two feet in front of the Roomba, facing it.

 

 

 

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An Ugly Black Mutt

Coming home from school one day in early spring when he was seventeen, my dad found a small dog on his front porch. It was all black except for a white stripe on its chest, it had a hound’s face, an English bulldog’s body, and a stubby tail. Its coat was matted, every rib in its body was showing, and all told, it was a very lonely, hungry, and exceptionally ugly dog. Continue reading

A Bear Drops in for a Visit

The squirrels scattered when I went outside to pick the mint that grows at the back steps, a single mourning dove remaining, placidly pecking at the ground. I gathered a few stalks and then went back inside, glancing out the window to see if the squirrels had returned yet. They hadn’t. However, from the woods at the other end of the lawn, I watched a black bear emerge. Continue reading

Remembering a Rat Named Betsy

It’s the Chinese Year of the Rat. It was also the Year of the Rat when a little rat named Betsy was born.

Let me tell you about her.

I was in a pet supply store buying food for a rescued field mouse I called Stinky (for good reason) when I saw a cage of young rats. They intrigued me, and after the clerk let me hold one of them, I went straight home where my husband and I built a roomy cage, placing it next to Stinky’s cage in the kitchen. The next day, I went back to the store and bought a “hooded” rat. (Hooded rats are marked like little pinto ponies.) She was sweet and shy, and so I named her Betsy, which seemed to match.

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The Cat Who Yowled

When I heard a cat yowling, I figured she was looking for a lover, but then it went on for too many nights, which made me wonder if the toms didn’t like her song. I really couldn’t blame them. Her pitch was off.

And then I saw her—a young calico walking along our dirt road. I knew all the neighborhood cats, and she wasn’t one of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Certainly, she had to be hungry and thirsty, and so I scrounged in the fridge for anything a cat might eat without harm, bringing it out onto the lawn along with a bowl of water. I did this for a week, always retreating into the house because, otherwise, she wouldn’t go near the food. When the week was up, I could remain outside as long as I stayed on the back steps. Continue reading

Cages for Books and Seagulls

The library catalog said the Rita Mae Brown book (“Sneaky Pie” mystery) was on the shelf, but not as far as I could see, so I complained to the librarian, thinking it must have been improperly shelved.

“I’m sure it’s here,” she said. “Did you look in the mystery section?”

“What mystery section?”

She pointed. “We’ve put all mysteries along the far wall.”


                                                                        image by mohamed_hassan on Pixabay.com

I found the book, but I was disturbed by the incarceration of mysteries. I started wandering and noticed they’d also captured and caged romances. It’s where I found “Gone with the Wind.” Like so many novels, there’s a strong love story in it, but what about the war that drives the entire plot? (Yes, I complained to the librarian.) Continue reading