Tree Rats

Spring is HERE people! At least for a few days. Last weekend JB raked the yard of leftover oak leaves and now we can see bits of green peeking out all over our garden. The sad thing is that there are still oak leaves left on the ground (only about a few, but annoying all the same) and even more still in the trees. Never willingly grow an oak in your yard! I picked so many acorns out of our garden that I started to wish that they could be sold on the black market. A nickel an acorn would make JB and I set for life. A friend suggested we spray paint them gold or something and sell them to Michael's as a craft item. Sadly, I don't even think Michael's would want our acorns. And apparently the squirrel army that has amassed in our backyard can't even absorb them fast enough.

They are quite the fat and happy bunch, as they have acorns for life, plenty of tree branches to play in, and a dog that merely chases them away, but never catches them.

I've watched fierce old Lucy lately. She's wicked fast. Fast enough to catch just about any squirrel. So why hasn't she? She's a scaredy cat! She will shoot off after those tree rats like a rocket, and once she's close enough to bite them, she literally hits her doggie breaks (the mulch in our gardens spraying into the air) and lets them get away. Or she'll run past them and circle back, pretending that she was too fast for her own furry good, unfortunately causing her to squander her chance at a squirrel sandwich.

Whatever, Lucy. You don't fool me. And I don't think you fool the squirrels, either.

Those squirrels are even luckier that they don't live in the country around here. Rural squirrels are lean and sinewy, but these city dudes are plump and juicy looking. And after a recent Meijer trip (the Cascade Meijer, again, mind you!) I'm thinking these guys wouldn't make it very long beyond the safe confines of our nutty backyard.

JB, Olivia and I were making our way down the checkout lane a few weeks ago when Olivia started to get fussy. JB pushed the baby in the cart to the end of the lane to pick up our groceries as they got bagged and to try to pacify Olivia. I was chatting with the clerk, a woman with short blond hair who seemed to be in her 40's. She chuckled as she scanned the giant plush squirrel that we were getting for Lucy, which we needed to replace the smaller squirrel that Lucy had removed the legs of. Old squirrel couldn't really put up a fight without any legs so JB and I agreed that it was time to let him go to the big oak tree in the sky. But Lucy wouldn't let us get away with that until we offered a replacement.

JB sees the clerk with the toy and hears me say something to her. Then she says, "....we cut the tails off and our dogs LOVE it!"

"Huh?" JB wondered. "Why would you buy a plush squirrel and just chop the tail off for your dogs? Wouldn't they choke on it?" (This is paraphrased, but as JB is downstairs right now, I'm giving you the general idea.)

Then he hears, "Our cats and our dogs, it's like catnip to them!"

He finishes bagging our groceries, I pay, and we leave. Later that night I said to him,

"Did you hear that the checkout lady was saying to me today?"

"Sort of..."

I told him the story and he cracked up.

After the woman scanned the stuffed squirrel, she laughed, and I said, "I know, it's a weird toy, but our dog loves it."

"No, I'm just laughing because it makes me think of our dogs. See I'm from the country, and out there--now this may sound weird to you--but out there we kill squirrels and eat them. So what we do is when we get a squirrel we cut the tail off and give it to our animals. Our cats and our dogs, it's like catnip to them! It's got that real gamey smell. And when they shake it, you know, it shimmers. They go crazy for them." Her eyes lit up as she told me. Watching dogs and cats fight over a squirrel tail must be quite entertaining. Actually, I'll admit that I'd probably get a kick out of it. While being disturbed at the same time.

I laughed. Then I wondered what "country" she was from, and why she was working in the CASCADE Meijer and not the Lowell or Ionia one. She's quite lucky that she had that conversation with ME, a girl from another hickville. And while I do not identify myself with squirrel eaters, I respect a person hunting for his meal. Well, I think I draw the line at rodents, but whatever. I just hope she doesn't open up like that to everyone, because people could complain and she'd have to hunt twice as many squirrels to make ends meat. Too bad shooting guns in the city is illegal, because if she stepped into my backyard, she could have a squirrely hayday.

And a few hours later, apparently so would her cats and dogs.

Ten minutes in the Meijer bathroom

Earlier this week Annie, Olivia, and I were shopping at Meijer. Before we finished shopping Olivia had a "blowout." For those of you who are not familiar with babies, we use that term to refer to baby crap breaching the diaper. Ick.

I picked Olivia up out of her carseat and cruised over to the bathroom while Annie finished getting groceries. I ended up having to change Olivia's whole outfit so I was in the bathroom for probably 10 minutes.

The changing station was located on the wall opposite the sinks, and to the left was the door, to the right were the stalls. As I lay Olivia down a Mom and her 11-year-old daughter had just finished drying their hands and headed toward the door. "Don't touch the door!" the Mom scolded the girl. "Here, kick it open with your foot. You don't want to get germs."

I smiled to myself. Go back in time about 20 years and that would have been my own Mom telling me not to touch the door for fear of germs.

And that, my friends, was the BEST part of my stay in the bathroom. From there, it very quickly went downhill.

The next woman who came in saw Olivia and said, "Aw! A baby!" as she walked to an open stall. "Newborn, huh?"

"Four months old!" I told her pleasantly.

"Oh," she said curtly, as if she thought I was correcting her and was offended. I think she was actually touched in the head. But that is no excuse for what she did next.

She used the bathroom, exited the stall, and walked right out the door, scorning the sinks! And she put the big ole crazy-lady-pissed-on hand of hers on the door and shoved it open.

I had to focus really hard on Olivia in order to keep my composure. That mom wasn't kidding about germs!!

Then a grandmother-type lady came in with a 4-year-old who said, "Look, a baby!" as she walked by Olivia. They went into the stall for about two minutes. The woman said to the little girl, "Hey, you little tricker!" and they exited the stall. They did not flush. It was possible that she didn't go to the bathroom. Then they came up to Olivia on the table and the little girl got all excited about the baby. Then they walked out the door, again scorning those beautiful glistening porcelain sinks. Those lonely sinks.

I turned my attentions back to Olivia in time to see her pudgy little baby hand waiving happily in the air, and I watched in horror as it found its way to the wall of the changing station and felt it up. Agh!!!!! I could just SEE the germs crawling en masse from the wall to her hand and down her arm and into her baby mouth. The germs were going to eat my baby! You don't know how hard it was for me to keep my cool at this point. I always imagined that while there were germs in public bathrooms, that the good ole Dutch Christian women of West Michigan were exceptions to the rule and that germs weren't that plentiful around here. Especially not in the CASCADE Meijer, which is located in the land of "new money."

Okay, so I was about ready to puke. I could NOT believe it. So I kept track. Eight females entered a bathroom stall, and only 3.5 washed. I say .5 because there were two who I am pretty sure did not wash, but I couldn't say for sure. One was a woman who I saw at the sink, but who was combing her hair and not washing her hands. It's possible that she washed them extremely quickly before picking up the comb, but after she left I scrutinized her sink and there wasn't much evidence to exonerate her. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt because she did approach Olivia after combing her hair and said, "What a beautiful baby!" and then, looking at Olivia, said, "The world made rosy cheeks just for you!"

Could a dirty bird really be that sweet about MY bird? I'm not sure.

All in all it was a horrific experience. Know what the worst part was? Look back at the story, clever readers. Do you notice any pattern?

How about the fact that the people who gave attention to Olivia were the ones who didn't wash their hands!!!

Now every time a stranger approaches Olivia I wonder, "Are you a dirt bag? How many bars of soap to you purchase annually?"

Sick.

Shoppers, beware. Don't use those bathrooms unless it's an EMERGENCY.