Bigger Eats Smaller

Just as predicted by the swell folks at NOAA, high winds started sweeping in shortly after noon. I've lived here for seven years and the house has never actually shook. The wind is coming from the north and I'm actually a bit concerned that the windows in the living room might break.

Of course, being worried that the windows might come crashing-in, I did what any sensible person would do-ran to look outside! That part of the storm warnings where they say to keep away from windows and doors does not apply to me. Anyway, I look out the window and see the neighbour's dog running around by the garbage pit. What I wasn't prepared for was to see her carrying a small, dead cat in her mouth. Truth be told, I'm sort of amazed she could kill a cat, being old, blind in one eye and so lame that she limps. Those feral farm cats are pretty tough. Unless it was already dead, which given the recent cold is possible.

For a second, I thought about calling her owners to mention what their dog's been up to, but then I thought better of it. I mean, what are they going to do, brush her teeth? Have a laugh at the idiot "city lady?" Sometimes I'm keenly aware that I'll never really fit-in with country living. I've spent my entire life in large cities, and while it is true that city cats and dogs meet terrible ends as well, it just isn't the same. Much as I'd like to think I'm over most aspects of squeamishness (what rural life didn't rid me of, motherhood did), sometimes I really wish I didn't need to see the food chain in action. Of course, if all those feral cats would set their efforts on the mice that find their way into the house each fall, I might reconsider my position.

The snow is blowing around now-I can't see fifty yards from the house. Winter. Blech. I should go bake some cookies.