We’re hamster-sitting and Livia is in heaven. Our mouse—Dash—isn’t allowed out after the Escaping Act of 2016, so Liv is super happy to be a hands-on rodent sitter for our friends. Shiloh seems utterly perplexed why we’d keep more delightfully stinky vermin in cages instead of letting him chase them. I, too, am stymied by what our lives have become.
Just another day in the life of Dr. Dolittle’s Mama. Note: Dr. Dolittle also likes chocolate chip cookies. Can ya tell?
When you’re doing the December Photo Project and you’ve been home all day, you just might haul a camera out in 6 degree weather and photograph a [clearly starving] cat eating his food. He’ll stop and look at you, perturbed that you’d be so bold as to document him slurping down his kibbles. And then you won’t use the shot of his face because it isn’t flattering. Nor will you use the images of your husband diligently salting the driveway while holding today’s mail with his teeth because the shot turned out too blurry. (You didn’t grab the good camera, knowing you’d be skating on ice and might fall on your way to shoot cats eating food.) Such is the life in the day of a DPP participant. December 17 in a frozen tundra equals dragging a camera to the home where you’re cat-sitting.
We joined friends at Branched Oak last weekend and, as always, the setting sun inspired me. The subject sitting in the light, by virtue of his leash and a well-placed tree, was of the canine variety. Cooper posed nicely, and so did our lovely human friend Dejana.
More images coming soon.
The learning curve on gerbils is interesting. It’s definitely not rocket science here, rather it’s a learn-as-you-go process. For example, these little guys like to tunnel, which means they’ll kick up all their bedding and we’ll inevitably have cardboard chips or paper pieces outside their cage (and on table or floor or whatever). I bought bedding with lavender bits because, ooh!, it smells nice! But then what I earned in positive odors got replaced by messiness. This bedding shoots straight through the bars of their cage and, ugh, is ending up everywhere. The gerbils also seem to like to pee on the upper levels of their house, not so much on the bedding. I refuse to be a gerbil pee-wiper (in addition to my other shall we say “low” tasks as in the home) so I think this simply means we’ll have to clean their cage more often.
But look at these pics! Livia learned to clean the cage last weekend and life already seems sweeter. She puts Shiloh in his kennel (Shiloh REALLY REALLY loves the gerbils if you know what I mean), Vice in the ball and Whiskers in his wheel car, and then we collaborated to make a new home for the rodents.
In the past few days I have laughed more than once as I fed the fish—after hollering, “Has anyone fed the fish today?”—or refilled Shiloh’s water dish or dropped a handful of hay pellets into the gerbils’ cage. This is not exactly the mothering I envisioned for my life, but you know what? I don’t mind it. I like taking care of little beings and if God hasn’t given us more human chilluns to love at the moment, then I can tend to these little beasts in my home.
Fair warning, Whiskers and Vice, you are collectively the low man on the totem pole in this house. If/when respite or foster or adoptive or bio kids show up, you’ll need to start speaking out loud to get any attention from me.
I started writing something but then I got interrupted by Livia. And by two gerbils on my desk, one spinning in a wheel. And by the dog who basically wants to eat the gerbils. Heck, even the sun shining while it’s pouring rain outside—always a strange phenomenon—has interrupted me.
So here you go, friends, gerbil pics.
I’ll admit this much, Vice (light orangish-brown) and Whiskers (white) are darn cute. And Livia is a really good caretaker.
Happy early birthday, Liv! That was some surprise, wasn’t it?!!