You’d think with a love seat full of cats, I wouldn’t need to buy mousetraps, but not so. It’s true, any critter who ventured out into the house proper would definitely be up for a Darwin Award, but a couple of the kitchen cupboards are accessible from the back (like under the sink, where the pipes come up, and another with some mysterious wiring) with no exit into the room. A couple of winters ago, I trapped what turned out to be a vole under the sink. So when I saw Pearl sitting, staring, frozen in place in front of the stove the other morning, my first thought was “They’re baaaaack.” So I picked up more traps. I got the cheap ones that are a little trickier to bait. Apparently, someone has invented a “better mousetrap” that is easier to bait, but it’s also a lot more expensive. I don’t like the idea of kill trapping all that much. If the store had stocked live traps, I probably would have paid the extra for those. But without the choice, I got what the ones you see here. I simply won’t share space with mice and their ilk.
I left two traps tucked away in two likely spots for two days, but caught nary a thing. That’s the good news, really; the fortress holds. So Pearl’s “false-positive” must be attributed to her being in one of those intense mental spaces that cats go to where we humans can never follow. Anyone who has ever been on staff for a cat knows what I mean.
One more thing about Pearl. Her mother (also pure white) had two different color eyes. When Pearl was born, I wondered if she would, too, but she didn’t inherit that trait. However, one thing I have noticed is that her eyes don’t glow the same color in a photo. Here’s a photo of her up close, with what I call her "Christmas eyes," one glows red and the other green. Very strange, don't you think?.
And while we’re on the subject of weird things about cats, why is it that when cats clean their faces and bend an ear back, they just keep on like nothing’s amiss? Sweeney does that all the time, and it drives me crazy. I say to her, “Eeeu! Can’t you feel that? Give your head a shake; it looks awful! Don’t make me come over there again to flip it back, I just got comfortable on the couch, and CSI Miami is starting…” (no response) So of course, I do.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.