19 November 2009

Toys in the attic






















Our pets have generally objected to the critters that tend to roam the neighborhood (and across our roof). Occasionally, something actually gets into the attic and needs to be trapped and removed, which isn't our favorite pursuit, but is one of those nasty necessities of living in an area that long thrived on agriculture.

A night or two ago, Milton was on patrol at the French doors in our living room, watching something very carefully. Then he ran full tilt to the French doors in the family room. Then back to the living room. Too curious not to look, I turned on the porch light and scanned the area beyond the patio. Just to the right of the fountain, I saw movement: the hind end of a good-sized opossum. It shuffled along toward the seating area, and like Milton, I hurried back to the French doors in the living room. It was stopped on the slate pavers, sniffing around, unconcerned by the fact that the cat and I (soon joined by the spouse and the son) were watching it. The cat was appalled that this hideous creature was in his territory, but it's fine with me: opossums eat all kinds of obnoxious things (snails, spiders, rats) that I'd rather not have in my garden.

And he's more than welcome to visit as long as he stays out of the attic.

Go listen to some good music: "Toys in the Attic" from the album Toys in the Attic by Aerosmith. I actually like the REM version better, but hey, how much of them do we need in one month?

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