Andrew and Alex took off for Minneapolis this morning and I had a lazy day, talking to Carol, doing some laundry and packing for our next visit.
Dean needed a break in the afternoon so we went to the Brier Hill farm so I could see Moose the very, very big cow, and Ginger and Henry, two miniature donkeys. I was delightfully impressed with the size of Moose.
After that we stopped at a cemetery where some of my ancestors are buried. Delightfully, I found a few graves, but I think my great grandparent’s grave markers are gone.
For dinner that night we had a delightful treat, broasted chicken from Chick’n’Dip.
I am not the biggest fan of Halloween festivities. Maybe I was as a kid — I am sure I was — but I don’t like it now. I think I first began disliking it when I was a teacher because the kids were always very worked up on Halloween, which we added to by providing them sugary snacks during our Halloween party. The following day was often worse, the kids having stayed up late eating their Halloween treats were either as excitiable as the previous day or sullen.
There are other reasons I don’t like Halloween that I won’t get into. They are a reflection on me and not the folks who do like it.
But every Halloween I do think about a delightful Halloween. Our black mitten-kitten (polydactyl) cat, Halloween. She was the friendliest cat ever and much loved by all of us.
Andrew and Alex made plans to go away for a few days and asked if we’d take care of Mingus, their cat. We (I) love Mingus and was happy to have him stay for a few days. Mingus can be a delight.
As nearly always happens, however, Mingus escaped. Usually it is the fault of someone else, but this time it was completely my fault. I opened the kitchen door to empty the compost container and didn’t close the door after myself. As I walked up the steps, I saw movement (it was dark) and it took a few moments to realize that Mingus had gotten out. Again!
I knew he’d head towards the area under the deck and was grateful he did because he is pretty much stuck there (or so I thought) because the lattice openings are too small (or so I thought) for him to squeeze through. With Dean’s help (he made me a treat rattle out of cat food and a jelly jar) we (I) enticed Mingus to come close to us (me) (which he did from outside the underside of the deck), then I grabbed him (this time wearing protection) and carried him into the house, delightfully relieved.
It doesn’t seem so bad now, but it was an anxious half hour for Dean and me (mostly me, I think Dean was watching TV most of the time) — and probably a very happy half hour for Mingus (aka “the boy”, aka Mingo, aka Mango, aka little shit, aka hellcat).
Andrew had not left Bethesda yet, so I texted him, hoping he’d stop by and help.
The photo at the top of the page is from the last time he got out.