in the wild

In the mornings, I can discern the slightest hints of fall approaching. Breezy, cooler air reigns for just those precious few morning hours. Dennis often asks to go for a bike ride, but we've gone to the preschool every morning lately for me to do all the things I have to do to prepare for the school year. Fall is my favorite time of year, but it's also that time of year when something about the house becomes very Discovery Channel. In the back of my mind, I wonder if it will be (as in years past) a baby copperhead headed for the kitchen trash can, an unusually large invasion of spiders, or a houseful of those nuclear sized ants fighting each other to the death and littering our floors with the crunch of their large, dead carcasses. This year it's something new, something much larger and more predatory. It seems that a tremendous mountain lion has escaped from local (very local) captivity and has made a home in our woods. According to several different neighbors, it's maybe 200-250 lbs, sustained on a diet of neighbor chickens. It's been seen crossing the road every morning just before dawn, and it shows up down the street sometime after lunch. Dogs have been wounded (not our dog), and the cat tried to break into an older lady's home by tearing up the siding and damaging the window on the bedroom where her grandchildren were sleeping. I'm scared to even walk to my car, even more afraid for Dennis. We won't be playing outside until the cat is caught. Cows in the driveway, that was kind of fun, but the wildcat I'm not so much a fan of.

Dennis' room looks like the site of a many megaton toy bomb detonation. He wants to clean it but is overwhelmed and cries in frustration. We tell him to put away all of one thing and then go to something else. This morning he said "guess what I've been doing!" and I asked if he'd been cleaning his room. He replied, "not so much, no," and forgot whatever it was he was going to tell me. He reported, "cleaning my room is just killing me to death!". I expect we'll spend some time in there tomorrow, reorganizing and paring down, and he'll be a happy room inhabitant once again.

Maybe I won't dream about giant wild animals tonight. And maybe I'll never see the thing (sure would prefer not to). Scary times.