Saturday encore ~ Johnny's turn at bat

This encore post is from August 29, 2016. 

 I was in the sunroom, watching Johnny watching Something. 

I knew not what.

 Given Something's proximity to a swallow's nest, I figured Something to be: 

a) a rodent going after swallow eggs or
b) a snake going after the rodent going after the swallow eggs.

 Me: Get down, please, so that I might get a closer look take pictures.

 Eeewww. Eeewww. Eeewww.

 My batophobia kicked in, and
I insisted that the feral beast leave the area immediately.

 Of course he did not obey. Cats never obey...

 ...particularly cats who do not suffer from batophobia.

 So I just googled "fear of bats." It's called chiroptophobia, not batophobia,

which is stupid because I'm not afraid of chiropractors. I'm afraid of bats.

Anyway, I gave up and left the feral beast where he was, getting a stiff neck.

Oh wait. Maybe that's why it's called chiroptophobia? 

Because if you stare at a bat long enough you need a chiropractor? 

The bat remained in place and I sort of forgot about him until I went out to the barn to remove

masks and muzzles just before it got dark and sure enough, as I walked back onto the porch, 

the effing bat decided it was time to do what bats do, which is flap their leathery wings

and fly low and scare the hell out of people.

Have I mentioned I have an irrational fear of bats? 

What evil lurks behind the bench?

 

A fall tradition

Every September, I call the propane company to schedule an appointment

to have my tank topped off. I don't use much propane – only the hot water heater

and generator use it. Everything else runs on electricity. Anyway, the scheduler

always wants to know how much gas is in the tank, so I have to open the lid

and read the gauge before I call her. No big deal.

 I've done this so many times that I know what to expect...

 ...a nest...

...and a rodent or four.

Then comes the moral dilemma. 

Do I remove the nest and its occupants or leave it to scare the propane man? 

Maybe mama rodent and the kids will leave on their own 

by the time he gets here, maybe they won't.

I think I'll hide in the garage on propane day 

with the GoPro ready just in case.

Johnny's turn at bat

 I was in the sunroom, watching Johnny watching Something. 

I knew not what.

 Given Something's proximity to a swallow's nest, I figured Something to be: 

a) a rodent going after swallow eggs or
b) a snake going after the rodent going after the swallow eggs.

 Me: Get down, please, so that I might get a closer look take pictures.

 Eeewww. Eeewww. Eeewww.

 My batophobia kicked in, and
I insisted that the feral beast leave the area immediately.

 Of course he did not obey. Cats never obey...

 ...particularly cats who do not suffer from batophobia.

 So I just googled "fear of bats." It's called chiroptophobia, not batophobia,

which is stupid because I'm not afraid of chiropractors. I'm afraid of bats.

Anyway, I gave up and left the feral beast where he was, getting a stiff neck.

Oh wait. Maybe that's why it's called chiroptophobia? 

Because if you stare at a bat long enough you need a chiropractor? 

The bat remained in place and I sort of forgot about him until I went out to the barn to remove

masks and muzzles just before it got dark and sure enough, as I walked back onto the porch, 

the effing bat decided it was time to do what bats do, which is flap their leathery wings

and fly low and scare the hell out of people.

Have I mentioned I have an irrational fear of bats? 

Saturday encore ~ Angry landlord evicts family of five

We've been reminiscing about Hank the past couple of Saturdays,

so I thought it only appropriate to bring back the porcine princess for an encore.

This post is from May 2013.

The moment I saw Wynonna sleeping next to instead of inside her pig palace,
I knew my worst fears had come true.

The freeloading packrats who had built a nest behind the palace in early April
had tunneled under and now had the run of the place. Not acceptable.

Wynonna helped me move the palace away from the back wall
so that we could serve the eviction notice.

The disgusting tenants had trashed the place. Look closely
and you'll see one of them hiding his head in shame.

Mama Packrat: You can't make us leave! We have no place else to go! Think of the children!

Me: Spare me the sob story, sister. You've got one minute to collect your brood 
and high tail it out of here. The kids are big enough 
to be on their own anyway. Be gone!

Wynonna: Noisy, good-for-nothin' lowlifes...
you won't be getting back your security deposit, so don't even ask. 

Papa Packrat didn't think twice about abandoning his kids. 

He climbed the nearest wall without so much as a goodbye and good luck.

Packrat Child #1: Wait for me!

The freeloading family of five could easily have run out of the barn and into the open range, but no.

They ran into the chickens' pen instead. Forgive me for not feeling sorry for them.

Minnie: Where'd he go? Little bugger is fast!

While the chickens and packrats played the Darwin game next door, I removed all traces of the nest 

and relocated the pig palace, exposing the back wall to daylight to discourage any new tenants. 

The princess returned to her room to sleep resume her royal duties.

The chickens clean up the porch

JohnnyCashCat's generosity knows no bounds. Perhaps if he knew how squeamish I can be

regarding beheaded rodents, he'd stop leaving me gifts.

Rather than clean up the mess myself, I allowed the merry maids a rare moment on the porch

to handle the task for me.

You don't have to ask these girls twice to take care of a rodent problem.

The clean-up was interrupted when Mrs. Hughes caught sight of her reflection in the door.

Mrs. Hughes: Yes, I am the fairest of them all. You got a problem with that?

There was more discussion than action...

...until Peach moved in and took control, much to Lady Mary's dismay.

A free-for-all ensued as the girls divvied up the prize.

The ridiculousness of following around a flock of hens, taking pictures of them eating a dead rat

was not lost on me, so I left them alone to finish the task.

I'll keep sharing Johnny's gifts with them as long as they keep sharing theirs with me.