vampyrichamster: (Default)
Dear World,

I have done a terrible thing. I accidentally stepped on a basement mouse. Now, it is lame. I don't know what the right thing to do is. I feel like I should keep it in a shoebox and make a little splint for it until it hopefully gets better. Or let it back out into the wild. Or snap its neck and end its misery. Seth forbade me from keeping it in a shoebox. I let it go near our back fence, where there are trees and not too good shrubbery. Maybe I should have let it go near our porch, so it could hide under our deck. Then I went back inside, and I heard one of the neighbour's cats crying somewhere above our fence. Then I went back outside, and moved the mouse -- who frankly can't walk very far -- behind a tree, where I know Dorian usually hears mices.

For all I know, I have doomed it in territorial combat with some other mouse.

I am filled with terrible feelings.

The End.
vampyrichamster: (Default)
Dorian, our cat with the telescopic neck and an uncanny ability to manifest over our shoulders when fish is on the plate, has recently developed an untenable habit of zipping in when Sif pauses mid-meal, and running off with as much of her meal as he can stuff in his cheek pouches. His other mutant ability, as it turns out, is food inhalation. You may laugh, but I have heard him eat raw steak with sounds of, "Schluuuuuurp! Schluuuuuuurp!" I do not know how you eat steak by inhaling it.

Sif, meanwhile, is tragically defenseless against Dorian's food ninja speed and surprising telescopic qualities. You think you've scooped him off the floor in time. No! In that split second it takes to cuddle him to your chest, he has hoovered up a quarter can of tuna mix off the tiles and will be chomping it down as quickly as possible in mid-air. Mid. Air. We have tried serving him his food separately outside (the most effective means), holding him while Sif eats (results in a lot of grumbling) and watching him while she eats (thoroughly ineffective -- he's too fast). Even with four small meals a day, I worry one or the other cat is not receiving enough food.

Sometimes I wonder if we were the right family for Dorian. He's so full of energy and curiosity. We like to sit in front of screens and read things. My lazy parenting is thankful that we recently received a Booda Ball (I believe this is somehow related to the igloo-shaped litter box manufacturers), essentially a ball with a snuff compartment on one side and a space for treats in the other. Filling the Booda Ball with treats and having him roll it round gives us respite. He is a good little ball kicker. Sif stops at being confused by the whole treat ball principle. She may have understood treats are in the ball, but lacking any will to hunt down the treats, is more apt to accidentally run into one of the treats Dorian has kicked out. I actually think she finds taking out treats and not feeding them directly to her is some form of punishment. Well, now she's asleep from watching him kick around a ball. (Spouse: "Supervision is exhausting.")

Inspired by [ profile] mokie, I decided to give Coffee & Tea Exchange's Sassafras Delight Black tea a go. Now, Mokes did a rather informative review of this tea way back (I kind of used her as my test hamster, however well-meaningfully). I had forgotten she said the smell of sassafras in this was strong. I bought a ¼ lbs. bag of sassafras tea, and 1 lbs. bags of normal black tea, including the hearthfired bottom-of-a-wok smoky Russian Caravan. The box smelled like sassafras from the moment I opened it to the time the rest of my kitchen smelled like root beer before bed.

Smelling of root beer is great. I spent all afternoon running back and forth between the study (whose litter box smelled like death and taxes) and snuffing the sassafras. I'd forgotten I loved the smell of root beer. It's wonderful.

Mokes also warned about the tea being cinnamony and a little spicy. I was looking forward to it. (I like my chai heavier towards the cardamom and black peppers.) Topped my standard 2-teaspoon measure with hot water and half and half. No sugar. I was hoping I'd get the flavour of root beer float once the vanilla ice cream had melted in. It doesn't taste quite like that. But it does taste like root beer. There was no bite, just a pleasant nip of cinnamon in the back of the tongue. The milk and cream really rounded out that floaty sassafras flavour. Without sugar, it actually had a hint of natural sweetness, which is tempered by the natural bitterness of black tea. On a scale of 5, I would give the caffeine in this a 2, after a regular 2 minute steep. I might try it steeped a bit longer next time, to see if makes everything else more robust.

Is it a good bedtime tea? Well, I'll see if I'm still up at four.
vampyrichamster: (Default)
My first reaction was, "Ohdearohdearohdear."

I had some delay saving it. It was wee, smaller than my little finger. It was totally alive, if terrified out of its mind. I had to chase Dorian and the mouse all over the house, while finding appropriate implements. When I carried it out, I went, "Hopefully, you are not dead. If you are dead, I will have to give you a funeral."

I have given many rodents funerals. Virtually all died of human-related causes, not cats.

The mouse was let go along the back fence. It had to catch its breath, then tried to make it for a crevice. There were two prominent tooth marks on its back, where Dorian carried it around like a cat plush toy. I think those will heal though. Now, hopefully, I haven't caused some kind of mouse infestation. But it is fruit and flower season. Mice have a right to seek out yummy foods.

Dorian was so happy. He caught a maus! It moved itself! I had massive conflicts of interest. I like my cat, but it's a mouse! A small, cute mouse! I gave Dorian lots of tuna. I think he's mollified, though he keeps returning to the study to check, just in case the mouse ran off again.

I may also need to periodically check the yard, just in case the mouse was more injured than I thought, and Dorian is smarter than I usually think.
vampyrichamster: (Default)
Me: I am hoping that since your pizza has meat and comes before mine in the physical confines of our abode, your pizza shall form a barrier for my pizza. It is otherwise quite tasty pizza.
Spouse: It's possible. Dorian could be (gasp) full enough to not bother us.
Spouse: Uh-oh, there he goes.
Me: I promise you I have done everything I can to keep the cats full tonight.
Me: Oh, dear. He is in the study.
Me: He's heading back your way. Didn't touch my pizza. Hoping he doesn't like olives or something.
Spouse: He's wandering into the kitchen. Sif is sleeping on couch.
Me: All right, then. Sif can form a barrier for our pizza.


vampyrichamster: (Default)

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