It's a gold-star kind of day.
Early Thursday, one of the neighbors sent out an email indicating she'd seen a coyote next door to our house in the wee hours, and that the coyote had cornered a cat. Because it was dark, she didn't know if the coyote actually had the cat or if it had run off with the cat or what.
(We live in suburbia, but it's suburbia with an edge, and rather more wildlife than other places. I used to share the road with coyotes on my early morning runs, and little jack rabbits are suddenly everywhere, and the next door neighbor's dog was nearly eviscerated about a year ago--no one saw what, but assumed a bobcat, because we've seen those, too. Periodically, we hear screech owls, and we've spotted golden eagles along with the usual hawks and occasional vultures. I'm a firm believer in living with the wildlife, and taking appropriate precautions to ensure everyone's safety. A sort of long-winded way of saying that my cat is an indoor cat.)
Anyway, there are a couple of cats who are outdoors alot at our end of the neighborhood. One is my feline buddy Max, and the other is the neighborhood nemesis, Olivier. I used to help care for Olivier when he was a homeless half-kitten, until an elderly couple a few doors down adopted him. He can pretend to be all lovey-dovey, but his behaviour is pretty erratic and he likes to attack people. With claws. Milton has very little patience for him and chases him home when he sees Olivier hanging around.
So I read the email, and I began to worry just a little.
I kept an eye out for Max, who lives across the street, and who I usually see roaming around his yard. If he sees me out gardening, he will come by for a visit and a bite of grass (evidently, I grow the best grass around since he is quite partial to it. Fortunately, I don't maintain the best place to poop; that honor goes to another neighbor's bed of sunflowers).
I didn't see him all day Thursday.
Friday passed. No Max.
Saturday. No Max. Not even when the Soaring Rodents returned from the Wild River Fun Fest.
So Sunday, I woke up certain that Max had gone to the grassy yard in the sky. But when I appeared for my coffee, both the spouse and the son piped up: "We saw Max this morning!"
And sure enough, there was Max across the street, following one of his people about.
A bit later, I saw him again, and I opened the front door. He saw me from his driveway and started to walk across the street. "Hi, MAX!" I called, and he came running, giving little mews, and bumped his head against my knee in friendly fashion before he sauntered off to investigate my lawn.
I still haven't seen Olivier, but as the spouse said, put Olivier up against a coyote, and I'd give Olivier the edge.
Then there was this:
Silly, but delightful.
(For those of you without Rock Band, this is an "achievement." I gold-starred the song. And no, I don't think I'm all that and a bag of chips, but it was still fun, because Rock Band is just a hoot and this song is rated difficult, vocally, although it's not. Also, no that's not my Live gamer tag. And yes, the son is amused that his mother has a Live gamer tag, even if she eschews the whole MMO thing.)
Then there's baseball. Whatever Mike Scioscia said to the Angels when he took them to the woodshed the other night seems to have worked. Last night, Torii Hunter hit three home runs, and today, Jared Weaver pitched a complete shutout, while Juan Rivera hit two homers. Nice work.
(She wisely stays quiet on why it is that the Angels starting pitchers seem to have so many complete games this season...)
And finally, my world seems to be righting itself. It's about time. I hope--fervently--that this is the case and that it stays that way.
Go listen to some music: "Let There Be Rock" from the album Let There Be Rock by AC/DC.