It's a first. First Fall/Winter since our move to the country that we have not had mice move in for the winter. But it has come at a price.
I share the feelings of a friend who recently said, "I love kittens, but cats...not so much." I've decided I'm not really a cat person. But I prefer a cat in the house to a mouse in the house.
Besides the vet bills, cat food, kitty litter and flea control, there are even greater, more sacrificial costs.
First, there's my upholstered pieces of furniture that have become scratching posts. Is it cruel to have her de-clawed? Wouldn't that mean she could never go outside?
There's the constant battle with cat hair.
Have you ever tried to crochet with a cat around? Chasing the yarn ball is NOT, I repeat NOT cute.
Worse yet, is the 4:40 a.m. wake-up call. Can a person NEVER sleep in??? She doesn't really NEED anything. Doesn't want to go outside. Plenty of food and water in the bowl. Just thinks it's time for me to give her some attention. I thought cats were anti-social. Not Stella.
The first was a good long cry. Neal was patiently demonstrating to me how to attach chains to my tires, just in case I need them this winter. I understood the procedure. I just couldn't do it. My arthritic hands are just too weak. It makes me feel helpless. Poor...pitiful...me.
So when I quit my blubbering, I went in the house and pulled out the last of the cinnamon roll dough. I may not be able to install tire chains, but I KNOW I can make cinnamon rolls. At least I thought I could. After smearing the dough with butter and dumping on the suger, I started sprinkling the cinnamon. But it didn't look right. That's because it wasn't cinnamon. It was chili powder.