Apr. 30: “Tell me about the rabbits, George”

This post starts with a warning: Loveliest Lori, consider not reading it.

When I came downstairs this morning, the cat was trying to work her way behind a storage box on a shelf under my desk. She had already pulled out one box and dumped it over—of course, it was the one full of miscellaneous USB cables, cords and chargers, and messy as could be—and wouldn’t stop meowing at whatever she thought was behind those boxes.

I ignored her. Millie frequently meows at spots she wants to get into, thinking they’ll be good places for a snooze. I used to move things out of her way and she’d jump into the spot, sit down for three seconds and jump back down, then find another place at which to meow. I got tired of rearranging the furnishings for her, and she has, for the most part, stopped asking.

But this morning she wouldn’t let up. She kept trying to squeeze in behind the boxes, meowing and crying and scratching, no matter how much we told her to stop. Finally, Victor pulled a large box off a shelf and she sat in its place. We thought she was satisfied and got back to the busy-ness of our morning.

Not a minute later I heard Vic yell GOOD GOD! and I looked over toward the sliding glass door, where I saw a little mouse running along the frame with Millie close behind. Mice don’t bother me—in fact, I think they’re adorable—but I certainly don’t want random ones running around loose in my house. However, mice give Vic the heebie-jeebies and he immediately started to find something with which to trap it. We both watched as Millie chased it back and forth along the window frame, and when they moved away from it, he made the smart move of opening the sliding glass door. The mouse was all THANKS, DUDE! and hopped right out (super cute-like, if you ask me). Millie was right behind, of course, and as soon as Vic closed the door again, she picked up the mouse and scratched to be let back in.

HELLO??? I WANT TO PLAY WITH MY TOY INSIDE, VIC!

He wouldn’t let her back in, of course, so she took the mouse down onto the lawn, where she played a little  catch-and-release, rolled around and smooshed the little critter. She’s very Lennie Small with her catches, and when Jack did a close-up check a few minutes later he said the mouse was laying in the grass with its feet in the air.

What might have happened:

We have a mouse problem again and Millie caught the mouse inside the house.

What I choose to believe happened:

Millie caught the mouse outside, where she does all her hunting, and brought it indoors to show us. We do not have a mouse problem. We don’t! We don’t!

Whatever it is, we’ve now got one pissed off kitty wandering around the house, crying for her fun toy. The milk jug caps just aren’t gonna cut it for entertainment anymore.

Hey, Lori—coming to our house for a visit any time soon?

Aug. 31: High Desert Museum

We went to the High Desert Museum today. If you’ve ever traveled on Hwy. 97 south of Bend, you’ve probably seen the signs. We’ve seen the signs for 20-some years and today was the first time we ever took the exit and checked it out. It’s a beautiful building and a pretty nice little museum, with the Schnitzers’ and Chiles’ and Autzens’ names on just about everything. The museum’s emphasis is on natural and living history (whatever that means)—they have a lot of pioneer/Oregon Trail artifacts and some of the cutest little critters you ever did see.

One of my favorites was the porcupine. Unfortunately, the new-ish baby wasn’t on exhibit because it’s being weaned right now so he and the momma are separated most of the time. One of the guides told me that the male porcupine just got put back in with the female; he was happy to be home and she was not so happy to have him there. Hm. Anyway, we didn’t get to see the baby, but we did see one of the parents. I love this video taken last month of the momma and baby.

 

The other big favorite today was the river otter. When we first got to the otter exhibit, he was curled up in his little nest, sleeping peacefully. Several kids crowded at the window and woke him, and he did not like that one bit. He got up and charged the window with a very big hiss. The kids all screamed, so he did it again. And again. And the kids loved it and that otter was PISSED. It was hilarious but also makes you kinda question the whole animals-in-captivity thing.

After he was done expressing his displeasure with/at the noisy kids, he went out to the water part of his habitat and started showing off. The kids all screamed again when he pooped in the water, of which they had an otter’s-eye view because the window is mostly underwater. It was pretty funny (the kids’ reaction, not so much the poo) and they were all, “He’s swimming in it! I think he’s eating it!” Here’s a video in which the High Desert Museum river otter behaves a little better than he did for us today.

 

Katie and I searched YouTube for High Desert Museum videos and found one called “chipmunch,” in which Thomas tortures and kills an adorable little chipmunk. You can look for that one yourself; Katie and I were horrified and decided that a video that disturbing doesn’t belong on my blog.

We also decided that maybe cute little river otters are in reality big, huge shitheads.

And speaking of chipmunks, they were everywhere. They kept sitting on their hind legs, like they expected to be fed—they certainly didn’t seem to be afraid of us. Technically, they were not chipmunks but some variety of squirrel, but to us they looked like chipmunks and what are they gonna do if we call them something they aren’t? NOT eat the hot sauce packet I so generously shared from my purse? Yeah, right.

The museum has a lynx and a bobcat on display, and they were both sleeping every time we were near. Boooooring. I didn’t like the Desertarium so much—scorpions. Ick. The only scorpions I can tolerate are the ones who announce their presence and then proceed to rock me like a hurricane. The bat exhibit had no actual live bats, but some interesting info and cool examples of how echolocation works. (Look at me, using big words that I totally did not have to look up in the dictionary.) I guess they have live bats at the daily bat show, which we missed, but I didn’t really care because bats kinda creep me out anyway. You know my whole thing with keeping my neck covered while I sleep…

Turtles? Way cute. Lizards and the like? Also cute. Snakes? Meh. Fox? Sleeping/hiding in its den, the a-hole. Owls and falcons? Stinky. But bald eagles? Oh my goodness, they were huge and quite beautiful—I really am not a fan of birds but there’s something about bald eagles that are majestic and gorgeous. I stood at their cage with my hand on my heart and sang “America, the Beautiful” because I. Am. That. Dork.

We didn’t even get to all the exhibits—there is a surprising lot of stuff to do and see. We all gave the High Desert Museum three thumbs up each. By the way, I didn’t actually give any of the chipmunks hot sauce. I love animals; they’re way better than most people. But mostly, I didn’t want to share my Taco Bell hot sauce. That’s good stuff.

Sep. 8: A creature was stirring

I couldn’t fall asleep last night. After tossing for an hour I finally gave up and went downstairs. I turned on my computer and then the family room light and noticed a very slight movement on the floor out of the corner of my eye. I thought, weird, I don’t think the A/C is on. It wasn’t.

Before I go on, a warning for Lori: you may want to stop reading now.

I kept an eye on the spot where I was pretty sure I hadn’t imagined seeing that very slight movement. It was among a mass of cables and cords near Vic’s computer. No more action—whew, it was all in my imagination.

But wait, there’s more! I wouldn’t advise Lori to stop reading if the story ended there.

My peripheral vision caught something again a couple minutes later. And then I saw a mouse. And then I said a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad word.

I’m not afraid of mice; I actually like most rodents. Katie’s second grade classroom had a hamster and the kids were always amazed when I asked to carry him around, like adults aren’t supposed to like cute, cuddly things. I’m also not afraid of snakes, although I’m not quite as excited about cuddling them.

However, I don’t like to be surprised by wild critters. And I certainly don’t want them in my house if they’re not caged.

So I sat frozen in my desk chair, watching the mouse. It was actually a really cute little thing, but I definitely didn’t like the idea of it running around my house. I didn’t know what to do. You see a spider in your house, you make your brave husband stomp on it, right? A fly or a bee or a mosquito? Get the flyswatter. But a mouse? Geez, what the H-E-double-hockeysticks are you supposed to do when you see a mouse?

It disappeared behind the couch, and then suddenly it was running along the back of the couch and I was starting to feel a little creeped out because, y’know, I sometimes hang out on that couch. It disappeared again and soon showed up back in the cords. Casey, who follows me everywhere, even in the middle of the night, came downstairs right about then. I’m thinking, cool; a rat terrier is the next best thing to a cat, right? She’ll pounce and I’ll have a ‘brave doggie’ story to tell. But Casey curled up on the rug at my feet and fell asleep. Worthless damn dog.

Vic rearranged the garage over the weekend and found evidence of at least one mouse, so he set an electronic trap. I moved it indoors, to the prime spot right next to all the cords. I thought the peanut butter inside would be irresistible but the mouse didn’t go near it. Instead, just when I thought maybe it had disappeared for good, I saw it run in front of the fireplace and behind the bookcase in the corner. The cute little mouse stopped looking quite so cute and much more evil and menacing. And because at this rate its next move would be down the wall right to where I was sitting, I decided maybe I was tired after all and quickly went back to bed, hoping the mouse couldn’t figure out how to climb the stairs.

This morning I got up early to see if the trap light was flashing, indicating a “prize.” It wasn’t. And I said that same terrible, horrible, no good, very bad word.

I’ll keep you posted, Internet.