Faithful blog readers, today we have a special treat!!! An extra special guest post from Kristina, who will hopefully become a regular poster on Starbies and Sangrias.
Allow myself to introduce myself…
Hello! You may recognize me from such blog posts as “Fun Friday Feature: Focus on my Friends” (July 29, 2011). I’m one of Celine’s fellow residents – only less trained, hailing from sunny southern California, and with anger management issues. Luckily, Celine finds my musing entertaining and therefore has asked me to be a guest blogger!
Today’s topic: When animals attack!
This week we’ve been ravaged by grievous acts of animalism. This year, my husband and I have been trying to embrace our Portlandiness by starting our own garden that is overflowing with fruits, veggies, herbs and flowers. Our biggest nemesis: my black thumb (ie I kill all flora). A close runner up, the freaking squirrels and raccoons! Yesterday, I was watering (read: trying not to kill) the plants and harvesting lettuce when a giant vicious raccoon climbed over our fence and starting ambling towards me. It was broad daylight and the thing was completely unafraid! He trampled our broccoli and continued to approach. With my years of Bally’s Total Fitness kickboxing training and all-around badassness, I screamed and ran into the house yelling at Darren to do something. Of course he steps outside and shouts and the thing runs back up the fence, breaks the top of the fence off, and then squats in the corner of the yard, atop the residual fence, judging me with his beady little eyes as I finish gathering our lettuce. Anyone have a BB gun I can borrow?
The other thing is these beasts have been ravaging our scarecrow. Darren got a beautifully crafted scarecrow as a gag gift for his birthday (a mockument to our new farmer status). Sitting on his head was a ‘coon skin hat that we’ve been passing back and forth amongst friends as a weird/creepy inside joke. Last week, the hat disappeared. Two days later we saw it in the neighbor’s yard – or a fragment of it. Only the tail remains. Our hypothesis: the hat was accosted by real raccoons cruising for a bruising, they won.
Our obese cat, Earl, often sleeps on my face or face-adjacent. Normally I find this endearing. However, Earl has a small hygiene issue, in that his interests are limited to eating and sleeping – grooming is not a priority. Sometimes, okay, often, he has a “cling-on” piece of feces on his rump. Thankfully, in a way only a brother could, his sibling, Duke, will help him out with his issues – on rare occasion Earl has been known to reciprocate for Duke’s benefit. Normally, I choose to ignore this grotesque animal habit. However, two nights ago Earl hopped up into bed and was approaching my pillow when I sat upright and pulled of the covers and jumped out of bed. Good lord if his face/mouth didn’t smell like sh*t, literally. Maybe I’m a terrible person and a fair weather lover of my cats, but I got a wet soapy wash cloth and scrubbed down my cat. He wasn’t a big fan. He slept in the living room for 2 days – I think it was an act of defiance. He smells better though.
Final Score: Animals 2, Kristina 1.