Punting A MouseRat for Yardage

After receiving Mother's Day gifts from Zane(homemade pictures are the best!), and a promissory note for a mani/pedi from Larry(he wasn't sure where I would want to go, so he left that part blank), I walked outside to find cat Zena and dog Maisy with their present for me. For those not keeping score, Zena the cat adopted Maisy the dog when Maisy was a puppy, and Zena does her very best to raise Maisy to be a good cat. Maisy was flinging said present about the yard and trying to catch it while Zena looked on approvingly, as any doting mother would do. 

And I sighed heavily and went back into the house. 

Not to hide under the kitchen table, but to get my shoes(because mouse guts on bare feet=projectile vomiting) and an oven mitt.  We've thrown many carcasses over the fence these past couple of years; Zena is an excellent mouser, and the fields behind our house are full of the critters.

I marched back out to locate the poor dead thing.  Zena was licking a paw, and pretending that she had no idea where the dead creature was, but I wasn't fooled by her feigned nonchalance.  Maisy offered to help me locate the remains, tail wagging, and escorted me right to what may have been a small rat or a large mouse.  I can never tell, so...MouseRat it is.  I leaned over to pick up the carcass just as Maisy nudged the critter with her nose...and the MouseRat ran right onto my foot. 

There's an obscure law that states that all women must scream loudly when in contact with any rodent, and I am pleased to say that I followed that law to the letter.  I also jumped and sort of punted the poor MouseRat about fifteen yards.  Puppy-brained Maisy thought that we were playing, and immediately grabbed the MouseRat and flung it downfield for twenty yards and raced after it.  She picked up the MouseRat and spiked it.  I winced as the MouseRat bounced a couple of times. 

When I finally was able to catch up to Maisy,  I just bent over the MouseRat and watched it.  There were two reasons for this: I had to catch my breath, and I wanted to make sure the MouseRat was dead.   I looked closely, and saw movement of the ribcage.  Alive, then, but likely shook up.  I slipped the oven mitt on and grabbed for the tail.  It took me a couple of tries, because I'm a girl and all girls are genetically squeamish about rodents.  I finally got the MouseRat by the tail.  It squirmed and wiggled in that completely icky way that made me want to just drop it and run.  Yet I was determined to get it out of my yard.  I  lifted MouseRat above the head of Maisy, who began jumping up and down.  She wanted me to throw the MouseRat, of course, which I would not do. At that point, Zena decided that the MouseRat was interesting again, since it was still moving about, so she made her way over to Maisy and I.

I walked as quickly as I could, holding a MouseRat by the tail above my head, with a jumping dog and a curious cat in tow.  I made it to our back fence, and found a broken slat.  I put my hand through the slat and let go of the MouseRat in a spot where it could rest a bit before heading back out into the field.  I turned, happy that I had had a successful "rescue".  Even if the MouseRat died, it would die on the other side of the fence, and not in my yard.

Sort of. 

Zena was sitting on the fence, tail twitching, her gaze zeroed in on MouseRat.  Maisy was watching Zena, ready to move.  I again sighed heavily, rolled my eyes, and grabbed Zena off the fence.  It was a chancy thing, as she did not want to go and dug her claws into the fence, but finally I was able to extricate her.  Maisy followed Zena, and into the house we went.  

This was before I'd even finished my cup of coffee!

Don't Mess with Mama

For this weekend's challenge we're asking you to include some hyperbole in your piece.  It doesn't have to be the whole piece, but it needs to be in there, and we're looking for 33 words, as usual. For my non-English teacher types, hyperbole is the use of exaggeration as a way of adding emphasis to a story.  It is not meant to be taken literally, but to form a more vivid picture in the mind of the listener. 

Our cat Zena, who weighs a whopping 8lbs, has 'adopted' our puppy Maisy, who weighs a demure thirty pounds. We did not realize just how much Zena cared until one night when I found two adult raccoons on the patio---after I had opened the door and let Maisy outside. When I saw the prompt, that is what immediately came to mind.



She exploded from the house like a growling, furry, ballistic missile, her tiny body hurtling toward the trespasser, and the startled raccoons were last seen frantically leaping over the fence into the night.

Are We There Yet?

Getting ready to go anywhere is a major ordeal, mostly because I am just plain disorganized. Also, I am easily distracted by shiny objects. So I am usually rushing around, trying to get myself ready, Zane ready, all the little things that Zane will have to have ready, and get out the door not too late for whatever it is we are supposed to be punctual.

I am not a morning person. This is actually the understatement of the century. Grass is more sentient than I am before ten in the morning. I usually don't even speak until I've had at least two cups of coffee. Yet somehow I ended up being responsible for getting the entire household up and ready for the day.

I try. I really, really try. Those books on organization make it all sound so easy. I lay clothes out the night before. I get the coffeemaker ready the night before. I put Zane's clothes out, get my lunch ready, gather up my work-related items, etc., all the night before, so I don't have to worry about them in the morning. I do this in the mistaken belief that this will make us all magically become better people who are actually on time.

What usually ends up happening:

I get up ten minutes after I am supposed to because I don't hear the alarm which is right next to my head. I go to wake up Larry so he can get into the shower. He swats at me, and mumbles something incoherent, which I wrongly interpret as "I am awake, my love. I will get out of this bed post haste." I go downstairs and make coffee, make Larry a cup and go back upstairs to find him still asleep. I try again, punching him in his hip and pulling the covers off of him. Larry again mumbles, and I hear his mumble as "I am so very sorry that I did not immediately get out of bed the last time you were up here, darling. I will endeavor to obey your every wish from this moment forward." I go back downstairs.

About halfway through my second cup I realize that Larry is still not awake and go back up stairs. This time I whisper-yell his name, trying not to wake up Zane. Larry shoots straight up in bed and acts like he's having a major coronary, then gets mad at me for "scaring" him. I stand over him until he actually gets out of bed.

I get my lunch from the fridge, put it by the door. I pour Zane a glass of apple juice, pour a cup of coffee into a travel mug for Larry. I eat a quick breakfast of whatever is handy, and inevitably the second I sit down, Larry comes down the stairs and starts yelling at me to hurry up or we are going to be late.

I run around frantically trying to get ready. I rush downstairs. Zane is ready to go, Larry is ready to go, I am ready to go. We open the door to leave and--Zena runs out the door. We have to go and get her. We corral under a car and finally succeed in snaring her. We pick her up, put her in the house and--

"Want apple juice," my son says. *sigh* I unlock the door, Zena explodes from inside the house to the Great Outdoors. I go in the house to get more juice. I bring it out to my son, who is now strapped into his seat.

"Oh, I forgot I'm supposed to bring a movie for after the test," my husband says. "I'll be right back." He goes in, says but can't find it. I know exactly where "it" is; on the shelf in the laundry room. I tell Larry this. Larry goes back in, and comes back out again to tell me that he still couldn't find what was needed. I usually end up going back in the house to get the item, which is exactly where I said it was. By the time we finally get to where we are going, it's time to go home!