Monday, July 19, 2010
There must have been a lot of squirrel-killing on Sugar’s part, because hanging on a nail in the garage was a tool known officially as the “squirrel-tongs.” These tongs were for putting dead squirrels in the trash. A better descriptor would be "barbecue tongs," for they were the sort of large-scale tongs. As an adult, I tend to refer to all tongs as “squirrel-tongs.”
Saturday, July 10, 2010
My mice escaped from time to time, and I am sure Sugar took care of them. Sugar was an adept and successful hunter, living in the days when cats were allowed in and out when they pleased. I once saw him walk casually across the patio and without pausing leap into the air landing in the ivy upon a mouse. His most infamous hunting exploits all involve bringing litters of babies to us, one by one. There was a possum story my mother used to tell, where Sugar brought her one after another baby possum. She had some sort of punch line about encountering the possum mother herself, but I can’t say what it was. The better story involves the Presbyterian church-goers walking to Easter Sunday services, while Sugar dispatched a litter of screaming baby rabbits.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Mice are intrepid little things, and when I was in second and third grade I used to write stories about two mice having adventures and solving mysteries. Of course I read “Stuart Little” over and over; I was never sure I liked the ending, though. Does Stuart find Margolo? Does he live happily ever after?