Tickled By A Tail

Yes, I'm easily amused.  For some reason, those mouse tails dangling out of the supply box in the milking room just tickle me.  I see them hanging nearly every morning, one or two, and once three.  Deb suggested replacing the wooden door with one of plexiglass or perhaps just putting a window in the existing door.  We decided that would be too creepy, like the sci-fi movie with the shrinking man who lived in the dollhouse and the giant eye peeping in the windows.  I'd feel like a voyeur spying on the mice, and I'm not sure my imagination isn't better than the reality of whatever it is they are doing anyhow.  The mice I do see are always so busy, dashing here and there, only taking time to sit and have a bite to eat or a slurp of milk, so it is intriguing that these tails hang still and straight for long periods.

I suffered a moment of panic and dread yesterday while refilling the hummers' feeders.  Glancing down into the back yard (which is really the front yard as it faces the road - oh, never mind, it gets too confusing), there was Pearl, lying in the open and stretched out flat and not moving.  I couldn't bear the thought of losing her too and it took me a minute to get the courage to call her name.  Finally an ear flicked and she raised her head.  A wave of relief washed over me when Pearl got up and walked away wondering why I'd wakened her.  She had picked the darnedest place to take a nap.

Dinner last night at Joel and Judy's was, as usual, quite wonderful and I gorged on bagels and lox and Judy's kugel and enjoyed the company of friends.  Trout was evidently not available so Joel had made smoked halibut instead; it was delicious.  The goats certainly put a crimp in my social life and I had to leave the party early to come home and tuck them in.  I'm still stuffed.