Saturday, June 11, 2005
Tropical Depression Blues
Damn storms. I can't sleep that well through 'em, and this one didn't even hit us directly. Too much rain, a little bit of wind, and I've been up and down all night. Probably when this blog is done, I'll head back and sleep more, then get up, go see Dad, who's out of the hospital and back in rehab again, then....I dunno. Clean house. Go teach Brian to function online. Maybe take Basher.
Maybe sleep another hour or two.
(Side note to Julie: Would you like 'em original recipe or extra crispy when you eat my shorts?)
I mention my dog Basher quite a bit in blogging, online conversations, etc. I occasionally mention Xena, Warrior Kitty (I used to have stepdaughters, you understand). Xena doesn't actually DO much of anything. Flop around. Annoy Basher by cleaning his ears and bumping her butt in his face. Yowl if her food bowl isn't properly topped off. Sleep on neatly folded stacks of clean clothes, necessitating rewashing.
She used to kill birds, but the last time I caught her with a young cardinal in her mouth, I kicked her ass well enough she got the point; no more birds.
A couple nights ago, I'm cleaning out email, talking on the phone (I use a headset phone), sort of listening to the TV program behind me. I'd left the side door open since the storm breeze was strong and cool. It has no screen door at present. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement, looked over, and a RAT was tentatively sniffing and looking around, gradually moving deeper into the house. I'd been showing a friend my BB pistol the day before, so it was behind my printer. I silently picked it up, checked to make sure the safety was off, sighted it, and squeezed the trigger. Nothing. The CO2 cartridge was totally discharged. Something warned the rat, though, and he ran into the kitchen. I ended my phone conversation and got up, moved toward the kitchen as well.
I am completely bummed I don't have a video of the next few minutes. Xena comes dropping off her sleeping spot on top of the refrigerator like a cougar off a cliff. The rat manages to evade her, and while she's regaining her balance, the rodent runs to that traditional haven of safety, behind the stove/oven. However, I had pulled it away from the wall to figure out why the burners warm up so slowly, and there's LOTS of room for Xena behind there. She knows this, apparently, because she's behind it like a shot, running in an interesting crouch. They clear that area, and the rat makes a desperate, successful leap onto the cabinet top, where Xena cannot follow. I have a small table holding the microwave, and it's too tight a fit for her make the leap.
She's not done, however. Often, when cabinets meet at a corner, there's a hollow area between them going up. Xena used to go up there to escape punishment or baths. Years ago I made a cardboard template, cut a piece of wood to fit, and closed that space off by gluing the wood in. Xena knows this. The rat discovers it immediately. Now he's in a corner, Xena's in the middle of the kitchen floor, and there's a break in the action while he studies alternatives. If he tries to run along the counter, there are open areas where she can easily leap up and nail him. If he tries going back where he came, she can cut him off.
For her part, she's focused like I've never seen her before. There's a soft growling sound coming from her, the tip of her tail is twitching, and her eyes react to every slight movement of the rat as he studies his options. She is crouched, maintaining a state of readiness for anything. The rat makes up his mind and makes an incredible leap, intending to go past her and back out the side door. It's a good strategy in theory. However, she jumps for him like an NFL receiver after a pass, and catches him with both front paws. She lands on her side but doesn't let go. She pulls him in, clamps onto his neck, and maintains bite pressure till he quits moving. Once he's dead, she stands over him looking at him.
I'm pretty amazed. Every cat I ever owned loved catching rats alive, and torturing them. Not Xena. This thing was doomed from the second she saw it. Apparently she remembered her butt-kicking over the birds, because when she looked up and saw me, she ran out the back door, leaving me to clean the cabinet top and dispose of the rat. I did those tasks. The next morning, she was sniffing the spot where she'd killed it. I petted her, praised her, petted her some more till I hope she got the idea that she's welcome to waste any rodent she catches in here. The only other time I had a rat in the house, I was younger, recently divorced and insane, so I shot him with a .22. Yes, the bullet's still embedded in the floor somewhere. No, I don't care. I didn't have a homicidal pet at the time, so I did what was expedient.
I just got a new screen door. Guess it's time to mount it, before water conditions drive everything in here, huh?
