We Have Squatters!

     Cats!  Ya' gotta' love 'em.  Here I am, with four beautiful cats; perfectly capable of livin' off the land, so to speak.  Well, there is that one cat who lost her back foot in a mowing accident (lotsa' tractors where I live), so I guess I don't have four WHOLE cats, but they are still capable little critters.  So, how's come I've got so many mice in the house, all of a sudden?

     Oh, sure; I realize that the weather is takin' a turn for the Chilly an' I'm fully aware that mice do not have thick coats to protect 'em from the cold.  Still, this is MY house an' I have NEVER invited mice to visit... much less, LIVE in MY house.  Therefore, I consider 'em to be squatters.  In the old days, or so I've heard, squatters were run off by the land owners.  Okay, minor technicality; we don't own the land.  We rent.  I'm sure, though, that there must be some kinda' renter's clause that allows us to evict squatters.  Anyway, whether there's a clause or not, I'm prepared to do damage to the intruders.  Mice are definitely NOT summa' my favorite people. An' now, it's time to say Goodbye.

     Aha!  One 'uh those intruders has taken the bait.  Haha!  He's outa' here.  Neener, neener.  An' actually, guess what?  I kinda' think he was the only squatter in the place.  There seemed to be evidence that it was the same four-legged dude who was checkin' out the whole house.  I think we've WON!  No more squatters, no more little surprises, no more questions 'bout whether we have the right to evict intruders.  That ol' boy is GONE!  Haha!

     Now, about that herd of cats who shoulda' kept the mouse away.  I think it's time to give 'em the look of, "Let's get with the picture, a'ready.  You're s'posed to be Mousers.  So MOUSE!"

     I think that should take care of it.  I'll keep you posted on the mousing situation.  In the meantime, I'm really glad to know that our biggest scoundrel is outta' commission.  Life is back to... good.  I'm a happy camper.

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.

 ~Yaya

The Night-Stalker

     It was a dark an' stormy night...

     ::Yaya runs frantically up the stairs, stumbling as she goes::

     ::Searching.  Searching.  Ah!  There it is.  Yaya grabs the baseball bat an' raises it high above her head; ready to do battle::

     ::Cautiously, she tip-toes closer to the stairs an' stretches her neck to see if the intruder has begun his assent to her place of safety.  No signs of stair-action, thank goodness::

     ::Yaya listens; good hubby-buddy has his own methods for doing combat.  Yaya tries to detect any sounds of struggle, but hears none::

     ::Just when she thinks its safe to relax her grip on the bat... BAM!  Shuffle.  Shuffle.  Door opens.  Door closes::

     ::Before long, good hubby-buddy returns, a CONQUEROR::

     ::From the bottom of the stairs, good hubby-buddy wields his own weapon an' shares the news that Yaya has been hoping for::

     ::We don't have a flying mouse, anymore::

     ::Then, he shows Yaya how he ended the bat's territorial invasion; he raises his fly-swatter in victory::

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.

 ~ Yaya

Two Volcanic Explosions

     When I was in Kindergarten (I sort of hate that word.  It just always feels wrong, somehow, ya' know?), I lived in Alaska, before Alaska was a state.  While I was there, we were blessed with a middle-of-the-day volcano, prompting those in charge to hustle everyone home as quickly as possible.

     There we were, just before noon, and the sky was as black as midnight.  Everywhere, mama's hung out of doors, calling for their offspring.  And children of all sizes ran from this new and frightening terror which we had no previous experience with and no emotion which we could reference for recall.

     After a year or so, we moved away from Alaska, the proud owners of a full jar of volcanic ash.  That was my personal badge of honor; my shining star.  No matter where I lived after that, I was the only person in my next class who had lived in Alaska.  And as my crowning jewel, I had experienced something that no one else in any of my classes could even comprehend; a volcano.

     Its amazing how much mileage I got out of that little jar of Proof.  Volcanic Ash, carried in a jar, creates the most remarkable sense of prestige.  At least, it did in my mind.  I was oh, so important, when I told my story of unbelievable fear and danger.  As far as I was concerned, no one else was as important as I was.

     Then came the day when my bubble burst.  Fifth grade and I was the new kid.  Being the new kid was something of a way of life for me.  Ours was a military family and that's the way things were; transfers.  Since I was almost always the new kid, I had grown rather accustomed to the notoriety of my position.  That is, until that awful day when it all started to come down around my ears.

     Just two days earlier, wearing my brother's hand-me-down blue jeans, I had given a report which included the horrors of surviving a volcano, as told by a very creative fifth-grader.  I was in my element.  Other students still viewed me as the new kid and I had the added benefit of being very nearly as famous and brave as Superman, himself.  Yep!  My very active imagination had created a real super-hero.

     Then came a knock at the classroom door and the school principal walked in.  With him was one of the prettiest, prissiest, blonde-haired girls I had ever seen.  She wore many crinolines under her showcase skirt and the way she held her arms, bent at the elbows, with her hands hanging limp, told me she wouldn't know what to do if someone handed her a bucket and told her to play in the dirt.

     Did I mention that I had blonde hair at that age?  Yeah, that was previous to the red hair that started showing up about a year later.  And as if that wasn't enough, she was being introduced as the new girl.  But the nightmare didn't end there.  Nope!  It just kept getting better all the time.
     My traitorous teacher, whom I had adored only moments earlier, was introducing this intruder with MY NAME.  My WHOLE name.  How dare she!  And wouldn't you know it?  She was coming to us from that beautiful land up north... Alaska.

     What I found interesting was that the teacher kept looking at me and smiling, as though she thought this was wonderful news.  She seemed to feel that I should be charmed by this total intrusion into my world.  What was she... NUTS?!?

     Just as the volcano had erupted, years earlier, so began my temper.  By recess, there was a full-blown explosion.

     You'll be proud to learn that in my entire school career, I was never in a fight with anyone.  Well, except for that one time when a very pretty, prissy girl moved into MY school, using MY name and stealing MY personal Land of Fame.  I don't think I have ever gotten over that treacherous act.  I wonder what ever became of that girl?

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.

 ~ Yaya

Do Not Do This!

     You may notice that my blog looks different.  That's because I woke up in the middle of the night and decided to move the blog furniture around.  Evidently, I stubbed my virtual toe, bounced off the end of my virtual couch and landed with a thud where I was unable to recover my virtual senses, properly.  If only I had been awake enough to make changes during the day (when, of course, I might have been awake), my blog would not have the sad, sad look that it has now.  Do not do this!


     I have decided that when the blizzard stops and we are able to go do our Christmas shopping, I will be sure to buy several mouse traps, particularly for protecting my computer from middle-of-the-night intruders, namely ME.  Stay tuned for the further adventures of the midnight lurker and see how she manages to repair the damage she has done.  Until then, stay indoors 'cause its {{{{{ C O O O O O  O L L L D }}}}} outside.