As a rule, we like visitors. A new spirit with whom we can share periods of chit-chat and cocoa, that's our idea of the perfect guest. Imagine our surprise, then, when we were greeted by the high-pitched, blood-curdling screams that announced the return of one who had popped his head in previously. After dining on food fit for a king then, staying for the night, our caller very rudely began knocking things around and creating a disturbance such as no host should have to put up with.
We were initially stymied by the noise and carryings-on of such unprovoked (we thought) behaviour. That is, until we realized that our companion had encountered troubles beyond his ability to overcome. There, caught firmly in the grips of a trap of our making, was the guest we had not invited, but whom we had hosted. On the floor, several feet below his original place of abode, lay our visitor, on his stomach. He had fallen, his feet trapped, and probably had a broken back. With his hands, he clambored to rescue himself by dragging his broken body painstakingly towards a hidden area, where he knew he would probably go unnoticed. Alas, it was not to be, though.
My good hubby is a kind and a tolerant man. In this case, he was both. Though he considered freeing the visitor from the trap, he realized that to do so would create considerably more agony, so he instead put our friend out of his misery. Then, releasing the trap, he lay the guest gently near the porch and walked away. The next time we walked outside, we noticed that the body had disappeared and we were both relieved to be finished with yet another episode of uninvited guests. Oh, and the cat seemed most appreciative for the extra snack, too.
I love trying new things. If it looks fun or inspirational or exciting or interesting, I'm anxious to know more about it.
Although I'm new at blogging, I'm certainly finding that it is one of the most intriguing ventures I have ever tried.
I love to create word puzzles and I love being home. If 'Home Is Where I Hang My Hat,' then all I have to do now is find my hat 'cause I know I hung it somewhere around here. A hat and a home; that's all I apparently need to be as happy as a lark. Since I don't know quite what the sound is that a lark makes, then I will just have to whistle a happy, 'Larky' tune.