Ratcha Talkin' About?

In honor of my youngest daughter’s Sweet Sixteen mile marker I offered a party; she demurred.  We considered a sleepover with three or four girlfriends at the Marriott with the indoor pool; she opted out.

So what did my darling, Sweet Sixteener want?   Cold, hard cash for ooh-gobs of shopping and… a pet rat.

Huh?

“Wait.  What?” Perhaps my hormones caused a hallucination or stripped me of my hearing.  “You want a what? What? A cat? A hat?”

A rat…in a house with three dogs, two cats and a mother who has nightmares about Mickey Mouse.

I laughed maniacally.

“These pre-menopausal hormones are something, aren’t they?” I chuckled to my husband, wiping the tears from my eyes. “For a minute there I thought she said ‘rat’.”

He patted me on the head and smiled.

Thus, Daisy the Rat was introduced to the Claro household.  Daisy looks like a hamster with a rat tail, so it is easy to forget when looking into that fuzzy little face that her ancestors carried the Black Plague.  In spite of myself, I’ve been sucked to the Dark Side by a quivering pink nose and tickling whiskers.

Daisy’s tail, which I was initially loath to touch, is velvety and feels like a peach.  She is interactive, talkative in a rat sort of way and, unlike the hamsters we’ve adopted in the past, is too polite to bite.  Also, she is smart, as evidenced by her agitation with Rap music and tendency to grow calm with Country. Yes, musical preferences are subjective, but since Daisy agrees with me on this one I count it in her favor.

In any event, I achieved my goal which was to ensure a memorable sixteenth birthday for Christina.  I didn’t have to stress with a big party or fret over staying within budget for a weekend at the Marriott.  Of course, I do have a rat in the house, but with all the barking and meowing going on from the canines and felines who share our space, Daisy is veritably refined by comparison. 

A refined rat.

Good grief.

Albert Einsquirrel, Rodent Extraordinaire

My last post discussed Chicken Fried Squirrel which, I am happy to report, was not on this week’s menu. At least, I don’t think it was. Chef Papa did create some concoction with julienne carrots, pineapple, Madeira and “chicken”, so maybe…urp! I’ll have to not think too hard about that one since I went back for seconds.

The reason I mention squirrel is because after I posted about the little rascals as an entree, one of those same fluffy-tailed, big-eyed rodents figured out—after nearly a decade of unsuccessful effort by others of his species, I might add—how to access our bird feeder.

Our home sports a walk-out basement, so from the rear of the house the main level appears as a second story. I mention this so you will understand that the bird feeder, which is attached to the house just outside the picture window in my kitchen, is not easily accessible to creatures other than the intended cardinals, sparrows, and chickadees. To my knowledge, a squirrel has never before managed to reach the feeder.

Hubby and I were sitting at the table admiring the birds when—thunk!—the feeder bounced and swung with wild abandon. A squirrel had managed to jump from the deck and land successfully on his target. He was, at first, as surprised to see us as we were to see him. It was obvious that his devious plan to steal sunflower seeds was limited to “jump, land, and eat”. He neglected to consider how to extricate himself. Hubby whacked a newspaper against the window and solved the problem. Albert (yes, we named him) scrammed with all the finesse of a Keystone Kop. He scrambled off the feeder, did a mid-air somersault, landed on the patio below, rolled, and jumped into the nearest tree where he rested on a branch and stared at us with evil intent.

Several days ago, Albert returned. This time, his plan was well formulated. He accessed the feeder with a long jump from the deck. He chattered at us (I don’t speak squirrel, but I believe he gave us the equivalent of a firm dressing down) nibbled at his leisure, and then jumped to the window sill, completely ignoring our close proximity. He scrambled over to the far edge and jumped, all four limbs extended as if he were flying, and landed on a tree branch, then scampered away.

Albert must have boasted to his rodent buddies, because ever since his successful acrobatics, squirrel activity on our deck and patio has increased, a happenstance that pleases my Lab-mix dogs tremendously. They do so love a good chase. Only Albert, who we recognize by his malformed ear and scrawny tail, has been savvy enough to make it to the bird feeder without mishap, though others have tried and failed. (Squirrels bounce when they land on concrete…who knew?)

Papa said if it keeps up we will eventually have enough squirrels to target for a backyard BBQ. I think he was kidding, but I scratched “chicken” off of next week’s menu just in case.

Til next time –
Lisa