16 years and no mouse
Oct. 19th, 2024 09:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootUntil last night.
Out went Biggie and in came Biggie, with what my husband at first dismissed as a mouthful of leaf. I detected a certain shape underneath the foliage and sure enough, Biggie dumped her prey which then shot away under the table and made its way to one of the sofas. Strange isn't it, no matter how old, blind, deaf, mad the cat, mouse presence still wakes them up, reminds them of who they are and what they do. Having banished the suddenly eager hunters from the front room, we sought said mouse and found him hiding under the fireplace. R got him and put him outside, but not before the little chap bit hard enough to get through the glove and draw blood.
Suddenly I was so glad we had all those shots, even though my inner Mother would prefer it if he got a tetanus booster. Her influence suddenly flared into mighty manifestation, as I found myself wishing we had her favourite cleansing liquid H2O2 rather than just Savlon and rubbing alcohol. Having said that, it is just hydrogen peroxide isn't it? I recall it stinging like a b*st*rd and being no more effective than Isopropanol. Anyway, he cleaned the wound with antiseptic and put a plaster on it. Should be fine.
Then came the dreams. An old friend of mine turned mad, and kept putting flowers I had cut upside down into vases full of water, 'drowning' them. Then my phone was basically blowing up with messages about someone I knew in the dream who was suffering some kind of full on mental breakdown, or had been ill for a long while. I was being referred to for help but I wasn't this person's guardian or any kind of executor/authority and had no idea what to do. Old foe was there again, this time looking close over my shoulder at some piece of writing or screen we were both meant to read. There was a recording of me presenting TV style. 'You can't act,' some woman told me, 'but you can do this.' I can't recall what we were reading or what screen-me was saying.
Cluttered distressed thoughts for no conscious reason. This did not have the oppressive squeeze of nightmare, I was just confused.
Then the image of a barn up high somewhere on forest covered hills, America in my head, then a close up of what seemed like some form of thick glass water bottle of a mottled blue material. It was old but very pretty.
I wake tired and anxious. Lovely couple of hours with mates yesterday and once again the flat in Malta was suggested as a bolt hole. Maybe we should take that up in early 2025.
Out went Biggie and in came Biggie, with what my husband at first dismissed as a mouthful of leaf. I detected a certain shape underneath the foliage and sure enough, Biggie dumped her prey which then shot away under the table and made its way to one of the sofas. Strange isn't it, no matter how old, blind, deaf, mad the cat, mouse presence still wakes them up, reminds them of who they are and what they do. Having banished the suddenly eager hunters from the front room, we sought said mouse and found him hiding under the fireplace. R got him and put him outside, but not before the little chap bit hard enough to get through the glove and draw blood.
Suddenly I was so glad we had all those shots, even though my inner Mother would prefer it if he got a tetanus booster. Her influence suddenly flared into mighty manifestation, as I found myself wishing we had her favourite cleansing liquid H2O2 rather than just Savlon and rubbing alcohol. Having said that, it is just hydrogen peroxide isn't it? I recall it stinging like a b*st*rd and being no more effective than Isopropanol. Anyway, he cleaned the wound with antiseptic and put a plaster on it. Should be fine.
Then came the dreams. An old friend of mine turned mad, and kept putting flowers I had cut upside down into vases full of water, 'drowning' them. Then my phone was basically blowing up with messages about someone I knew in the dream who was suffering some kind of full on mental breakdown, or had been ill for a long while. I was being referred to for help but I wasn't this person's guardian or any kind of executor/authority and had no idea what to do. Old foe was there again, this time looking close over my shoulder at some piece of writing or screen we were both meant to read. There was a recording of me presenting TV style. 'You can't act,' some woman told me, 'but you can do this.' I can't recall what we were reading or what screen-me was saying.
Cluttered distressed thoughts for no conscious reason. This did not have the oppressive squeeze of nightmare, I was just confused.
Then the image of a barn up high somewhere on forest covered hills, America in my head, then a close up of what seemed like some form of thick glass water bottle of a mottled blue material. It was old but very pretty.
I wake tired and anxious. Lovely couple of hours with mates yesterday and once again the flat in Malta was suggested as a bolt hole. Maybe we should take that up in early 2025.
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Date: 2024-10-19 12:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-19 12:44 pm (UTC)