How quickly my little corner of paradise has turned into a chamber of horrors, and this coming from someone who grew up on a farm and loves to camp. In fact, the only reason I’m not camping is because this holiday is devoted to finishing up the book. I’m actually somewhere between Vanderpool and Leakey. The cabin is nicer than most, and I’ve got the cats with me, mostly because I’ve been away so much I knew I’d miss them to the point of distraction. The jury is out as to whether their company is a good thing or bad. As I guessed, they handled the four-hour drive just fine and quickly adjusted to their new surroundings. I turned out the lights at 10:30 and a dream awoke me up at 2:30 a.m. That was when the fun began. I realized My Little Spawn of Satan were a bit too diligent about stalking the stove and sure enough, the next thing I knew Sauks had a mouse, which being a good, loyal kitty he promptly took into the bedroom I’d chosen. There he proceeded to slowly torture it to state near death, at which point he lost interest. As if that weren’t bad enough, Fig was on the kitchen counter and just as I was approaching to see what prey she had in her sights, something heavy plopped on the floor from the stove hood. Jesus! These cabins come with instructions to watch for scorpions, and I’ve even see a few of the tiny crustaceans. That in no way prepared me for the angel of death at my feet. I grabbed a newspaper, scooped him out the door, which I quickly bolted in case the devil grew arms and tried to get back in.

 

Enough gory details.  The mostly dead mouse was tossed out after a lot of comic shivering and whimpering on my part. Seems neither Sauks nor Fig is a very good mouser as apparently I was the only one who could hear his squeaky appeals for mercy.

 

Charlie: Would you spend another night here? I can still see you standing on that chair when we heard a mousetrap go off in that USFS cabin in Arkansas. Mousetrap? Mmmm?Always despised them as they conjure up unpleasant visions of desiccated rodent carcasses from my youth, but perhaps one or two is in order. Don’t know quite what to do about the scorpions other than hope he was such a big dog all others have moved out.

1 Comment

  1. Deane Gremmel on May 2, 2012 at 8:38 pm

    Life in the Texas Hill country – oh how I miss it! And just today I drooled over some real estate listings in Bosque County, along a creek or surrounded by oaks. At least your furry hunter didn’t drop the mouse by your head! But oh, how proud he must have been!

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