Alarm was set for seven this morning, it needn’t have been.
I was rudely awakened by the persistent bark of the neighbor’s corgi. Butters joined in and I dragged myself to my bedroom window.
Said corgi was staring at the side of my house and would not stop alerting.
I threw some ‘outside’ clothes on and headed out to see what the fracas was about.
A newly dug hole now exists leading to under my home.
This after a trap sat unsuccessfully for a week in the very same spot. (Sans hole.)
I’m assuming my skunk is back.
I’m over caring. As long as a) Skunks stay nocturnal and b) Nothing else moves in under there to startle it.
Had a long day of napping yesterday and (without too much information, wishing I had an epidural) so I was wide awake.
Headed out to the laundromat after a shower.
Laundry Lady: Hey! I missed you last week.
Me: Yeah, I didn’t even have half a basket.
(OK, that works two ways lol.)
I tossed my items in the machine and took my usual spot.
This was only after I noticed a rock on the table.
My first thought, “Oh, now we’re claiming tables with place rocks?”
Second thought, “Wait – there’s another rock … Must investigate.”
I turned it over to discover the purpose.
So! There are now painted rocks hidden in our town and if you find one, you can post a photo of your find to the Facebook page – then re-hide it or keep it or leave it.
What a wonderful way to begin the morning though – with the word, “Joy.”
I was a little upset that once again the WIFI the laundromat boasts was not functioning again.
That was ok though, I came prepared with a book.
It’s taking me entirely too long to read, not because it isn’t good, it’s amazing! It’s taking me too long because I’ve slowed down on my reading time (not good.)
There was a particular sentence I savored.
“The scratching of the bushes no longer sounded cozy. Spindly fingers asked to be let in, dark figures flitted around the house and looked for a gap, a small opening to squeeze through” – Stefan Kiesbye (Knives, Forks, Scissors, Flames.)
I kept reading until it was time to check the wash.
That’s when I noticed my laundromat neighbor.
Not to be unkind, but only honest, the first thing I noticed was his ripeness.
Then, his table. (Which, also had a rock.)
I set the book aside after seating myself again and observed.
I took all of him in.
His table, his stance, his belongings.
I make the assumption he was homeless.
I make it because he had a small bag of food items, a small bag of toiletries and because he removed his boots and stood bare footed to include his socks in the wash.
On his table, 17 cents – a small tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush, an insulated drinking vessel and some clean folded socks.
Yes, I felt some guilt sneaking this photo – but he’d disappeared into the bathroom to groom and I couldn’t let the moment pass.
My first thought now? This man had everything he carried with him, and I was going to watch his stuff.
My second thought? He was laundering his items and if anyone had a problem with that I was going into momma lion mode.
This photo breaks my heart a little – and was not intended.
A serendipitous snap of the camera.
And while all we shared was a brief smile, he shared more with me than he’ll ever know.
I chose to leave that rock at the table by the way – so that perhaps someone else could find ‘Joy’.
As Alice would say.
It’s almost 3 weeks since I left my home. And I still feel like a dog turning in circles and not able to lay down.
That got me to thinking about the homeless – the people who don’t have shelter to exhale in. Bouncing and bouncing from place to place. I mean, if I feel this way in my parents home – then … Gawd.
It makes me so sad.
The important thing is I have my Teddy. My bear. I think I understand the homeless with their carts. Having things that are familiar to you is so important. THEN I start thinking about people relocated due to fire or flood and all of their possessions gone. Just gone. Then I appreciate Facebook more. I lost a lot of photos in my divorce. But, Facebook is an eternal photo album and also, since they started memories, a diary.
I’ve also taken a lot of photos.
Clearly, it’s a ‘tad’ windy.
Bottom line, it sucks not to be home. But I’m glad to fill in for my mum and dad that also want to be home.
And, am enjoying the pets, even if it means many scratches. 😉
It’s dark outside. Thunder is rumbling. I’m sitting quietly at my table in the laundromat with much on my mind.
We’ll begin at the beginning.
It has been raining on and off since Friday. Yesterday there was a break in the weather and I was sitting outside on the phone.
Then I spotted something in the dirt, outside the gate, by the road. Two somethings.
Squirming, small and mole like. I like moles. I thought I’d grab my camera and see if I could zoom in to figure out what they were.
Didn’t get much information out of that plan, so I walked over to them.
“Oh, mom … I have to go! I’ll call you back.”
This is what my camera picked up next.
A tiny, newborn rabbit.
Two of them were flopping blindly in the rocks.
I looked around for the mother …
I looked around for a warren. Some sort of home they may have come from.
There was NO WAY these two made it any great distance – unable to walk or see.
I spoke to my mom again – unsure what to do, but certain I had to do something!
We have a lot of feral cats in our neighborhood – being a rural location.
Also the skies were threatening to open back up again and would surely soak these tiny creatures.
We decided I would put them in a box and keep them warm. I grabbed a t-shirt and padded the box. Placed them gently inside and put the box near a location I’d seen ‘crumples’ (named for its ‘crumply’ ear) and another rabbit friend spending a lot of time.
I then placed baby carrots all around the box, went inside and waited.
No bunny came.
I finally made the decision, that they couldn’t just stay outside in the box all night. If one cried out, a cat would be sure to find them.
So inside with me they went.
What to do next? They must be hungry.
After watching a video on YouTube, I threw on some shoes and in my pajamas, headed out to the nearest store.
I scooped the less feisty one up first, held it securely, but sweetly and nursed.
I wish I had photos of that for you … But I clearly had my hands full.
They both took in several drops.
This is them after their meal.
All tucked in for the night.
They slept in my bathroom high enough so that should one squeak, Butters wouldn’t be able to investigate with any success.
Then I was tucked in … And hoping they made it through the night.
This morning I got up early. Held my breath and peered inside the box.
Alive and well!
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it last night, but I donned my fluffy robe and prepared their breakfast.
Holding each against the fluff seemed to comfort them. They didn’t eat as much this morning, but the feisty one cried out between drops and what it lacked in size it more than made up for with volume! 🙂
Baby rabbits do an amazing impersonation of a squeaky toy. A LOUD squeaky toy.
They also look very much like otters from the front! LOL!
Breakfast finished, back in the box.
Here’s some more pictures:
I hated to leave them to do laundry – but they’re ok.
They’ll get another meal when I get back and my mom used her animal network to find me someone local who will take them and care for them.
I did go back outside this morning to see if any bunny was searching …
All I spotted was this.
I think it’s a good omen.
I think my foster babies are going to be just fine.
Had a squabble with my son today.
It was unpleasant.
It came on the heels of his 21st birthday.
I started this blog when he was still walking up a dirt road to catch his bus to school!
He was this little …
Our squabble? It was over a bird.
He wanted/wants a bird.
I said no.
We rent – they poop. We rent – they scratch their seeds. We rent – he doesn’t pay any of it.
Truth is, I’ve always wanted a bird too.
But, not a caged one.
One I could put to bed after it flew free in my (owned) home with interaction.
We don’t have that to give.
What he DID get for his birthday was semi-impulsive and it dawned on me today, he has more of me in him than I had thought.
What he didn’t DO on his birthday made me proud.
He thought he was driving later to a friends after his birthday dinner to do college homework – so, he didn’t have a drop of alcohol.
I SO appreciate that.
My son has common sense.
As for the tattoo (of which, I have four) I didn’t love it.
No, I’ll be honest.
I didn’t love the idea of it – because, he HAD a plan.
He wanted to integrate nature and technology and was going to be proud to have that imbedded in his flesh for eternity.
After consulting with a tattoo artist, he was told it would be 5-6 hours in a chair and perhaps he needed a pre-tattoo. (I’m sure that wasn’t the sentence the guy used – but hey, I’m paraphrasing.)
I felt like he was being coerced into an extra tat.
When Nic sent me a mock up of the tat – and I saw Alice –
I knew he didn’t have me in mind. (Although, I WAS hoping for his first to be “MOM” in a heart – just kidding.)
Because, this is what he brought me back from his big trip to England:
But, he had heard the story over and over of when I was in a bus in India as a child reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and the bus hit a man.
No one really cared.
But, when we hit a chicken!!!! We had to pay for not only that chicken, but the chickens it would produce, the eggs those offspring would produce etc. etc.
One less mouth to feed in a 3rd world country is above food that feeds them – to a degree.
I kept reading on that bus – but did catch a glimpse of hamburger head.
It was horrible.
But, we took him somewhere good – and my mind stayed in that book.
Bottom line, I said:
And he is honest. Like me – to the point of discounting himself, if that’s even possible.
We try it, we do – but to lie – it doesn’t lay softly on our chests. I’m glad he got not only impulsiveness, but HONESTY from me.
And now we’ll both always have Alice.
It’s still too early to sleep – but that’s what I want.
How do I feel? I feel dank.
Dank and dark and hopeless – and hopeful and grateful all at the same time.
Does that make sense? No.
I feel like I have been peeled alive and felt every bit of it, but am still grateful for being alive.
I am missing my mum.
I am hating what is the ‘waiting game’. Knowing everyone gets what the outcome is.
Horrific isn’t it? That I’m waiting day by day (as is she, but MUCH more personally) for the ‘finale’
I won’t put a full stop there on purpose.
It is not a mistake in the sentence.
And there will be no mistaking the grief.
I feel guilty for wanting my mum home, because it will be when her mum, and my Nannie has passed.