Course I might have tried to get even with my little Ryan subconsiously !

Well, if you read the last post you will know Ryan tried to kill me albeit quite by accident and he did not succeed.  What the little fellow does not know, and Grandma does, is that I almost did him in and it was with absolutely no malice of forethought.

It was a year or so later that I decided I was sick to death of the cast iron bathtub that was in my powder room.  You know the one that would have lasted forever and was gleaming white with very little effort?  Yeah, that one that was installed and then the room built around it.  So off I went with Kenny in tow to the city to find the perfect set up.  And there it was at that place on the hill.  Forgot the name.  Nice white plastic tub and the nice white plastic surround.  Little pricey, but what the hey!

Enter son-in-law that I did not particular like, but he worked cheap.  Rip out the wall, rip out the tub and haul it out back.  I will not go into the particulars of how many days it took to get that bathroom back in working order or how frustrated we got before we decided that son-in-law had to go.  Nor will I go into the time frame of how long it took Bret to get a chair in the tub and poke a hole in the side of the new plastic POS.  This story is about Ryan!

It took 4 men and a horse to drag that cast iron tub out back.  And there it set.  Trash man did not want it.  Scrap man did not want it.  So it set there.  Looking back I can now think of many things I could have used it for.  Could have been a strawberry bed.  I could have become Catholic and it could have been a great grotto or what ever those things are.  But it set there.  Enter frustrated grandson with a sledge hammer and it became something to relieve said frustration.  Now cast iron can be broken if it is hit just right.  First it was in two pieces and then three and you know the routine.

At that time I also had a chicken pen I wanted ripped out so I could make that area a garden.   I was trying to pull one of the t-posts out of the ground and having no luck at all.  Enter Ryan.  He thought he was way bigger than he was.  I might interject here that the easiest way to remove a t-post is with a jack and a chain, but that was in the garage and there was Ryan.  So the little fellow braced his feet, grabbed the post and jerked.  He did that several times and nothing happened.  Then he decided it was do or die and made one final attempt.  At the point when I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel, it came loose.  As the law of momentum is want to do, Ryan fell backwards and landed flat on his back with the t-post still firmly in his grasp.

And protruding into the air, barely one inch from his left shoulder blade was a foot long piece of cast iron the shape of a stiletto!  My life flashed before my eyes as he lay there with the biggest grin on his face!  He was so proud that he had removed that post by brute force.  All I could think of was what the scene would have been had he been turned just slightly, or the post had been over 8 inches, or this, or that.

When I said my prayers that night and for many nights thereafter, I thanked my omnipotent God for knowing way more than me and for thinking ahead more than this old woman, and for keeping his arm around Ryan and keeping him safe.  Do you remember this, my little Ryan?  That is one I am not going to forget in this lifetime.

So now go vote in the poll up there on the left.  It is no wonder you never come over and want to help old Granny anymore!

The killer cat and the feathers I get to clean up!

See that cat there?  That is Icarus, my calico.  She is peering under the treadmill in hopes that the bird she brought inside might accidentally be under there!  See all those little things on the floor?  Those are feathers the bird neglected to take with it when it escaped the clutches of this evil feline!

More feathers in the hall way!  The bird is probably getting cold and scared long about now!

Here we are in the kitchen/dining room.  By this time I am getting a little tired of taking pictures and am in search of the vacuum cleaner.  I have already taken the dove outside and put it up high.  I know there is virtually no chance of survival due to the cat fever aspect of the ordeal it has just endured, but hope none the less springs eternal in the human breast!

Ok, now the mess is cleaned up and the cat is looking at me funny.  I know that cat's bring us treasures like mice, birds, snakes and centipedes because they love us and they think we are stupid and can not catch our own food, but come on guys!  I let my cat watch me eat and at no point has Icarus ever seen me devour any of that stuff. Now if she could go out and bring me home a side of beef we might be talking here, but she does not.  It is all this stuff that I have to clean up and dispose of properly.  (Yeah, like there is a way to dispose of dead wild life in the kitchen properly!

But as long as I have a doggie door and  a cat, I am sure I will have this little problem from time to time.  I have talked to her and she just flips her tail, looks over her shoulder and walks off with a little swish.  This is the same cat that will wake me up in the middle of the night while perching on my shoulder and giving me tiny little licks on the cheek.  God only knows what she had dropped in my bed, but I do jump up and look, just in case she thinks I need a midnight snack!

It takes special people to love cats and I guess I am one of those people.  She rules the two dogs with a disdainful glance and they just watch her walk away.  So for the next 14-15 years I know I have a companion and I also know I do not have to worry about eating!  Lonely?  The local animal shelter is full of these furry little creatures.  Just call my friends at the Pueblo Animal Shelter and I am sure someone will help you find a special one!