It's still 86°F at 10:24pm, with the humidity around 73%. Daisy the Terrier is confined to the house, and it's pitiful to see her attempts to engage us in play by repeatedly dropping her frisbee on our feet and wagging her tail frantically. Even the cats are hanging back when we open the door and they get their whiskers slapped back by the hot, humid air. They would normally like to go outside and chase bugs across the lawn on a warm summer night.
The boy cicadas seem to be having a good time, competing for the girl cicadas' attention by scratching out their highly-spirited muscial compositions:
scritch-EEEK! scritch-EEEEK!
scritchity-EEEK-EEEEK-EEEEK!
Look at my bulgy red eyes, ladies!
Look at my lacey wings!
Listen to my scritchity songs,
You sexy female things!
scritch-EEEEK! scritch-EEEEEK!
A little misbehavior on the part of Mr. Pseudonym's hip/groin muscle necessitated our venturing forth into the bake oven today. Muscle stiffness over the past week or so developed into raging pain and a pronounced limp by late Sunday. The doctor couldn't fit us in until today. Junket and I had taken to pushing Dad around on a computer chair whenever he needed to go to the bathroom, but our friend Kathy came up with a set of crutches this morning, which are helping get him around a little better.
Dr. stopped short of saying, "I'll be damned," but his best guess is that Mr. P has a strained or torn inguinal muscle. There was no precipitating factor--Mr. P didn't move any refrigerators or anything...just, "Lah-dee-dah-dee-dah, RIP!" They're not called "groin muscles" for nothing! We treated Mr. P to a couple of x-rays and a bottle of woozypills, ran home and poured him back onto the sofa. He's now watching movies nonstop and wishing he had access to a zero-gravity chamber someplace.
Caer's rats are still here, eating us out of house and home while anxiously awaiting Mommy's return. By the time Caer gets back, these rats are going to be twice as big as when she left! That's OK...Grandma likes to spoil them, too. I'll take my Sprinkles and Pokey out for exercise first this evening, and then I'll gather up Caer's Krimpet, Linky and Sloepoke if I'm not too weary. Rats will fight with other rats not of their biological or adopted families, so I never exercise Caer's rats with mine. A prolonged introduction and acclimation period would be necessary, and Caer's just not going to be gone that long.
They run back and forth on the sofa, in and out of the sofa pillows, occasionally jumping up on my shoulders for a better vantage point. (Mr. P's gone to bed, so he won't be eaten by rats while he is disabled and helpless.) They have their own special blanket to run on, since they have the unfortunate habit of "marking their territory" by urinating. Riiiiiiight! Like they bought that blanket and launder it regularly!
Rats are smart, comical and affectionate pets. I'm glad I got over thinking of rats in terms of bubonic plague vectors and got to know them as sweet, furry little friends.
Onward!
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2 comments:
BWA HA HA! I nearly squirted diet soda out of my nose over the cicada song. Now I have OTHER cicada songs stuck in my head... "Eat a little aphid, rub your leg on your thorax, GET DOWN TONIGHT!"
Sorry to hear about Mr. P's groin injury and I don't blame you for not wanting to confess what you two were doing when it happened. Hope he is doing better soon, husbands in a poor way are worse than being sick yourself.
Our own little ratty is dreadfully spoiled, by me, as Bald Man likes to point out.
Ahem, a Caer update would be nice.
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