Let’s not do that again, Mom. I am so over going to the vet.
In other Monday-ish news, our microwave caught fire early last week. We somewhat expected it. It was old for a microwave, a free-standing model located well away from anything else that might have caught fire except the sorry little potato flaming cooking inside. Do you remember life before microwaves? Mom had to think about that for a moment before remembering why she used to love Minute Rice so much. Survival food she called it. Technically, it can be made with hot tap water if a stove or microwave wasn’t available to heat the water.
Anyway, we’ll get another one in a few weeks. No biggie. All the cats say they don’t ever want to hear those smoke detectors going off again. Mom agrees.
And then, sometime last Sunday, our 25 year old refrigerator died. 25 years is a LONG time for a refrigerator and honestly, any time, be it one year old or last week, would have been an inconvenience to stop working. Technically, no one needs a fridge. It’s true! The internet says so!
This replacement is going to take a bit longer because Dad’s picky and doesn’t want a garage sale special. Mom’s looking at it like it’s camping when everyone eats out of a can with a pair of pliers and if you have too much left over, well, you’d better eat more or attract the bears raccoons who, by the way, enjoyed three hundred dollars of ground turkey, hot dogs, six TV dinners, assorted breads and buns, several bags of blueberries and mixed veggies, a dozen eggs, two bags of shredded cheese, and a pound of butter after we discovered the problem 24 hours later.
Elsewhere and the very minute Mom was typing up this blog post, through the window she saw someone walking across the street; someone as is a kitty visitor. Only, that’s no kitty. Luckily, Mom took photographic evidence before racing downstairs and outside to see it up close.
When we lived in a rental property across town decades ago, we regularly hand-fed baby opossums. We’re used to their behavior and are comfortable with them. Nowadays, we count ourselves lucky if we see one every five years or so. We have too many big predators on this side of town.
Mr. G was interested but wisely kept his distance. Mom said it looks smallish for this time of year but healthy looking, and it might have been a male. It didn’t hiss at her or freeze into place – Opossums don’t have good eyesight but good noses. His fur looked good and soft. No, she didn’t touch it (but gave thought to it).
And then, after assessing the situation like only opossums can, Pauly Opossum turned away from the sound of Mom’s voice and waddled away up under a neighbor’s porch. Mom calls this a special moment.
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Where’s Mr. G today? Why, right there waiting by the garage door with his brother Jacks/Bunny. No needing to search for him today. Our time’s getting short with him. His family’s been packing up their backyard things for a couple of weeks now, getting ready to move back to Idaho. Just a few more pettings and brushings, boys, before you’re off on a big new adventure.
~ ~ ~ ~
A Colehaus Cats flashback:
2023 – No post
2022 – Opinions
2021 – No post
2020 – One Word Wednesday
2019 – MultiCat Monday
2018 – No post
2017 – No post
2016 – Friday Fun
2015 – Good Morning, Zuzu
2014 – No post
2013 – ManCat on a Mission
2012 – No post
