It's Not Godzilla But...

I was on the phone with my daughter while still at the office and I happened to notice an image on my office window.

It really was quite large, probably 2 inches long.

I remember these from my youth. Oh lordy are they one of the insects I dislike. While riding home on the school bus from picture day in early September of the 4th grade, one of the boys grabbed one, crunched it just enough to disable it and dropped it down the back of my dress expecting me to scream like a...well...girl. (I dislike that phrase immensely. Some of the biggest scaredy cats I've ever met have been men. Why isn't it, "Scream like a guy" as if women have a lock on screaming?) When we got home, mom insisted on photos on the front porch. Somewhere, I have that photo. I sit, all prim and proper, in my light green seersucker dress all the while this grasshopper in the throes of death is squirming on my back.

I remember bursting into tears when she was done and peeling off the top, ripping the armholes in the process. Mom was friends with the guy's mother so she took the offending grasshopper to Katie and demanded an apology. I think I got one, half-hearted. He was a small in stature guy and I'm sure he was bullied about his height or lack thereof. His way of dealing with it was to move the bullying down the line. He was already disappointed that I didn't scream or squeal when he dropped it down my back. Being forced to stand in front of all of us, his and my parents, and apologize was a huge humiliation. But, he never picked on any of us again. I never, ever liked him, but I really liked his parents.

Locusts are bigger than this. My dad would tell stories about watching them come in clouds at the end of summer. It seems to me that these 'clouds' weren't like the ones the Plains states had during the Dust Bowl years. But I'm fairly certain there would have been clouds, more like a bulbous group, coming and settling into the fields and eating anything they could. I also remember dad saying grasshoppers were great fishing lures. I don't remember what liked them, but I do remember him spearing the hook and tossing the still wiggling insect into the Mississippi.

I was scared of them for many years after the bus incident. They are wholly unpredictable. One insect might engage you in a staring contest. Another might hop straight up as you approach and then there are the ones hidden that fly off as you walk by. How many times have I been startled by a hopper that happens to share his air space with my body? That's when I scream simply because it's large and it startled me.

It took awhile, but they don't scare me anymore. They are quite fascinating when you get down at their level and look at them. Compound eyes and leg muscles which, if translated to humans would allow us to jump almost to the moon. Still, they should keep their distance from me. I can yelp, only don't tell me I sound like a girl.

Beverage:  Water

Deb

Ear Scratches vs Still Scared

So today some monumental steps were taken.

Here is your first photo of Pilcher. I was told she was the most sociable of the two. To the right in the photo, are tee shirts. That side of the closet is divided in half with tees hanging on the bottom and long sleeved shirts hanging on the top. On Thursday, this is where she went. I thought it was both of them, but I was wrong. I still do not know where Meeha is. Jon and Perry have tried to comfort me by reminding me that if a cat does not want to be found, you can't find her. Yeah...but...

Last night, I heard activity in the litter box. I heard some quick crunching of food. This morning, the tee shirts I had asked Val to leave in the carriers were pulled out and it seemed as if someone slept on them. I'm going to say that was Meeha and take comfort in those little things. She's not outside or in the basement. She's just somewhere and it's best I let her come to me.

Pilcher had made her presence known by peeing on my bed. She might have been trying to get to the litter box last night and I interrupted her by moving. Oh well, I was going to strip the bed anyway. I was concerned that I hadn't seen Meeha so I had removed 80% of the tee shirts in the closet last night, thereby removing quite a bit of Pilcher's hiding screen.

This morning, after my breakfast and finishing reading all the newspapers in a pile on the living room floor (Dominick Dunne died. I didn't know that.), I went into the bedroom to get clothes to wear after a shower. A black face peered around the corner of the closet. I got hissed at, followed by a growl. But, peering at me is a start.

I walked around the end of the bed and sat down on the floor. Talking in very quiet tones, I called her name and held out my hand, making scratching motions with my fingers. You could see she was thinking about it. She came out from inside the closet. She hissed and growled. She stood there looking at me and then the need for ear scratching took over and she came right up to me. I've had my hand batted twice but she's not had her claws out.

She has been into the office and into the living room. She seems scared of the kitchen right now, so I've not taken her into that room. All in good time. She inspected some of the living room, finding the box of cat toys with the crackle rat that still smells a bit of catnip. She liked that but the neighbor arriving home from a jaunt on his motorcycle spooked her and she ran into the bedroom. She's not interested right now in leaving the closet.

This is good. I brushed her today while we were getting to know one another. She seemed secure enough to lie down on the bed and give herself a small bath. She climbed onto me to look into the hall, but just seems wary of the world beyond the bedroom. We spent some time cuddling on the bed today so perhaps I will have someone sleeping with me tonight. She was purring while lying next to me.

Small steps although today could be considered a huge one. Here's a better photo of Pilcher.

She seemed thrilled to be able to lie in a window and feel the breeze on her face. Well, that is why I have a bookcase there, so a cat can be comfortable.

Beverage: Assam

Deb

If I can't see you, you don't exist.

Before going to bed last night, I checked on the new family. Couldn't find them. Now the basement is closed off so there's no chance, I think, of them getting down there. And not wanting to stalk them, I thought I could just go to bed without trying too hard to find them.

But, worry got the best of me. I looked in the few crannies in Carole's old room. Nothing. I hadn't heard anyone leave that room, but these are cats and we all know cats walk so quietly they can pass by and not be heard. I wandered about, looking under things and peering into the nooks. I took a step into the closet in my bedroom and heard a hiss.

Okay, they are behind the tee shirts or at least the vocal one is. I assume, since I can't find the other that they are both there.

This morning, I did my usual routine. The litter box hasn't been used and I don't think any food has been eaten. I'm hopeful they will come out this morning and snoop around. I know it's frightening. New smells, lots of new smells. I'm sure my house is quieter than their apartment since I don't watch TV. No carpeting on the floor.

It's hard for me to be patient. I have cats in my house. I want to hold and cuddle and scratch and have someone in my lap. But I do remember that it took Rascal a good 6 years to come to me for ear scratches, 8 years before I could pick her up without snarling. I just have to trust that soft words and a safe place will win over "What are all these smells?"

Beverage: China Black

Deb