Practicing Domesticity: Mouse? Gopher?

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Mouse? Gopher?

Animals. I feel like they've been the subject of so many of these stories, and yet, there always seems to be more to say.

As briefly mentioned two days ago, the menagerie sometimes likes to bring in reinforcements. When this happens, we are forced to take action:

A dead animal brings excitement to the whole house. Let me lay out the scene for you, with Michelle and Kat playing the generic roles of the housemates:

Jake (the cat) runs up the patio stairs carrying a recently dead animal in his mouth.

Jake: meow. Meow. MEOW!

(now, at this point the scene could go one of two ways - if no one comes within about five minutes, the only thing left will be the intestines; let's say that one of us is sitting in the living room and continue)

Kat: Michelle, I think Jake is back. (walks to window)

Michelle: great...

Kat: Um, and I think he may have brought a friend with him.

Michelle: (runs to window) Ew! JAKE!

Zazie bounds from her place reclining on the couch basking in the sunlight.

Michelle: Ew! You are so gross, cat.

Kat: Me?

Michelle: No, the cat. We have to clean this.

Michelle opens door and Zazie attempts to get out.

Michelle: No, Zazie!

Kat leans down to leash the dog. Jake attempts to eat the animal.

Michelle: No, Jake!

Michelle takes broom/swiffer/what is handy and waves it in Jake's face. Zazie attempts to get out.

Kat: No, Zazie!

Michelle: Kat, hold back the dog. Jake! Leave!

At this point, Jake knows what's best and scats. Michelle is then able to sweep/scoop/make the animal go into a bag, interspersed with Ew! Gross! I hate animals! So disgusting! etc. The bag is then taken (rather rapidly) to the outside trash can.

And now you have experienced what we have done 25 times.

Also, there is presently a debate over what animal these dead animals actually are. We just assumed they were rats/mice, but today another professor said perhaps they were gophers. Apparently there has been an overabundance of the little creatures in the neighborhood.

Well, whatever they are, we wish they wouldn't visit us. Dead or alive.

1 comment:

UnknownApril 9, 2011 at 8:23 AM
Two things:
1. I am not a "generic housemate." I am Michelle Haas.
2. Dr. Lee says there's gophers!
ReplyDelete
Replies

Add comment

What I Learned From My Mother

by Julia Kasdorf

I learned from my mother how to love

the living, to have plenty of vases on hand

in case you have to rush to the hospital

with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants

still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars

large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole

grieving household, to cube home-canned pears

and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins

and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point.

I learned to attend viewing even if I didn’t know

the deceased, to press the moist hands

of the living, to look in their eyes and offer

sympathy, as though I understood loss even then.

I learned that whatever we say means nothing,

what anyone will remember is that we came.

I learned to believe I had the power to ease

awful pains materially like an angel.

Like a doctor, I learned to create

from another’s suffering my own usefulness, and once

you know how to do this, you can never refuse.

To every house you enter, you must offer

healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself,

the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.

Source: Sleeping Preacher (University of Pittsburgh Press, 1992)

Alone

by Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

The Silence

by Wendell Berry

Though the air is full of singing
my head is loud
with the labor of words.

Though the season is rich
with fruit, my tongue
hungers for the sweet of speech.

Though the beech is golden
I cannot stand beside it
mute, but must say

"It is golden," while the leaves
stir and fall with a sound
that is not a name.

It is in the silence
that my hope is, and my aim.
A song whose lines

I cannot make or sing
sounds men's silence
like a root. Let me say

and not mourn: the world
lives in the death of speech
and sings there.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Mouse? Gopher?

1 comment:

Other Blogs