Nature at it's best

I was driving home the other evening, after dark again, I'm getting used to this 'dark stuff' after almost a year of being pampered, safe and secure in my house with real lights and all..

Any-hoo, when I turn on my road I have a HUGE hill to go up and over to get to my house. The hill is about a mile up, and a mile back down. It's really, really dark on the hill, at night, of course. I think the boogey man might live up there, in perfect harmony with the armadillos, bob-cats, coyotes, turkey, buzzards (that puke on your car if you upset them), deer and the one and only little black bear anyone has seen around here.

So, I turned up my road and started up the hill, and my headlights caught sight of a large dog, no, a small deer! This little guy couldn't have been very old, it was all spindly-legged and tiny, with the brilliant spots only a recently new-born would have. This little bugger was standing in the middle of my lane, and upon my arrival, it started to run. Up the hill. On the road. There is nothing but woods on both sides of the road for two miles, plenty of opportunity for the poor bugger to dive off the road, but it stayed in front of my car, running for it's poor little life.

So I slowed down, followed it for a while, then 'Beep, Beep' I made my horn say. Oh, the poor critter started trying to run faster up the steep hill, his little hoofs slipping, I felt bad. I grabbed my camera to get a shot at it but all I got was glare off my windshield. Rats. Poor-little-scared-bugger ran a whole mile to the top of the hill, passing several spots that had easy access to the woods, until it finally stopped on the crest to hang it's head and pant. Now I was really feeling sorry for it.

I stopped the car, got out with camera in hand, first I wanted a pic of it standing in my headlights, and second I wanted to usher it into the woods. Well, it got one look at big-ol-mean-I'm-gonna-eat-you-me and started running again, still on the road. The crest of the road ended and started to climb again, by now it had run about a mile. It got in the opposite lane and I pulled up beside it, to One; get a pic, and Two, chase it into the woods. Poor dumb thing turned towards my car and bumped off the front left fender, which panicked it even more, if that was possible!

It got back in front of me and ran like I was the devil himself, for another half a mile or so, until it found a driveway on the left to dive into. And he was gone. I hoped for two things: The run didn't kill him and he finds his dear deer mommy, I'm sure he was hungry after the marathon! And I bet he stays off the road from now on, too!

Baby on the shelf

Isn't she cute? I named her Alley. Aww, so cute, such a quiet baby, haven't heard her cry yet, she doesn't fuss when I hold her...

I found her laying on a shelf. I was appalled that someone would leave a nearly newborn baby laying on the edge of a shelf 3 feet from a hard floor, but, well, people do strange things. 'Specially in these-here parts.

When I first saw her lying on the shelf, I thought someone had given her black eyes, you know, popped her one. Turns out the 'black eye' affect was simply new-born veins that show on, well, new-borns.

After exclaiming loudly, "There's a BABY on this shelf!", the real owner came over and offered to let me hold her. The owner picked the poor baby up by ONE ARM. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. But the baby didn't fuss, she just hung there like a rag doll. I was becoming more and more confused by the second. Is the kid dead? Mentally challenged? Comatose? And, why in the world was it laying on the edge of a shelf???

Turns out it IS a rag doll. Oh, what a relief, the thing isn't a poor abused, neglected and abandoned real kid after all. Ok, I regathered my scattered thoughts and emotions enough to ask some questions about it. The owner makes these things, (so stinking REAL looking) and sells them, for upwards to 400 buckaroos. Cheaper than a real baby and a whole lot less trouble, I guess. "What's with the bruised eyes?" I asked. The owner explained that she buys plain looking-life-sized baby dolls and paints new-born veins into them, puts a little make-up on, glues some hair on and dresses them up. Stinking spooky things sell like hot-cakes.

Now, I am positively SPOOKED OUT by real-looking dolls, well, ok, fake-looking ones too. And the owner wants me to hold the thing. Trying not to make a face, (I failed at that attempt), I held my arms out to take it. She gently (gently after scooping it up by one arm?) placed it in my outstretched arms, as though it were really alive.

I sort of held it at arms length, feeling Owners questioning eyes on my, I'm sure wondering why I was acting like it was a python or something. I gave it back, explaining that it looked really nice, I was sorry, but it spooked me out. Yeah, well, she thinks I'm weird!

I tried to continue my work day and forget the whole thing but, honestly, I tried really hard to avoid that part of the deli until the thing went home! I think she might be a cousin to Chucky, or maybe one of those Children of the Corn. I don't know, I don't care, just keep it away from me!

Murder in the Livingroom

I worked till dark today, first time I've driven in the dark in a long, long time. It seemed weird, to only see what my headlights would allow! I got home and discovered that I didn't leave a light on for myself, so I stumbled around in the dark, trying to find the right key and then the right hold, finally letting myself into my dark living room.

I fumbled around and found a light switch, bathing the living room in light. Ah, I can see now!

Ok, the cat is here, my furniture is still where I left it, all is well. I'm tired, can't wait to get into my jammies and flop in a chair, read a while and go to bed.

WAIT! What's that moving over on the floor by the cat, and speaking of cat, why is he acting so strange, what's he hiding over there? As my eyes travel across the room to the cat my sight stumbles across some red spots on the rug.

BLOOD? No way, this is a MALE cat, HE, the BOY cat doesn't have 'times of season'. Where is this blood coming from? OH! Another spot, and another, and another, GEEZ, what happened here while I was gone?

I look again at the cat, acting very 'cattish', hunkering over some kind of, of, Prize. I got up and navigated my way around the many, many blood spots on my rug, shooed the cat away to find a poor, pitiful, injured, alive and struggling mouse.

Ah, Mr. Mouse, YOU are the provider of the blood spots! I picked the poor critter up by the tail, feeling very sorry for him/her/it as he/she/it looked up at me as if to say, "Are you my rescuer"? Well, Mr. (Ms.?) Mouse, I do have a penchant for rescuing poor, pitiful little animals but you don't quite meet the criteria.

I took him/her/it outside and set it free, if you can call putting an injured 3 ounce animal out into the wild 'free', much to the cat's chagrin.

To make matters worse, in the cat's eyes, I had the nerve to clean up the blood and disinfect the area. That cat hates me!

Well, at least the cat is earning his keep!