Dad here; a seismic shift is beginning to rumble throughout the Casa del Whackos; Oba‐wan’s hut renovation is nearing completion, and the moving process is beginning to lurch forward. I will finally be able to once again stumble to the refrigerator in the wee hours of the morning clad in ought but my underdrawers without fear of finding Oba sitting at the kitchen table, a fact that I’m sure that she’s thankful for as well.
In the process of moving some of her furniture from our living room to her new homestead, we found a tiny pile of dog food in a corner. It was obvious that we were unaware that we have another stowaway at the Casa, in this case a tiny mouse who had calmly set up housekeeping in spite of the carnival of confusion that constantly ensues here.
Now, most normal people would freak out at the mere mention of a stealthy rodent sharing their living quarters, but in case you haven’t noticed, I am not normal. After all, one of my favorite books as a kid, (and I’m still a kid, and I still like the book) is “The Mouse and the Motorcycle” by Beverly Cleary.
Somehow, the thought of this particular knuckle headed little mouse, smugly watching the human and canine feet moving to and fro about the living room from his vantage point beneath the love seat, gives me a certain warm satisfaction.
So tonight, we have declared a temporary truce. Tomorrow is another day; hostilities will resume, and I will have to go about my manly duty of protecting the Casa from such invaders.
But then again, maybe not; can’t we all just get along?
We be of one blood, ye and I.
