Pranking the Human

As I've said in a previous post, our cat Louie Belle likes to carry live, unharmed animals through her cat door and set them free in the house so that I can chase them through our humble abode to capture them (hopefully) and release them back outdoors. 

It's important to note that Caleb (our Jindo dog), Zoe (our little, black Bichon-mix), and Louie Belle flatly refuse to help me catch them. To the point that the feral critters have literally climbed over the lounging bodies of my pets to escape me.

Louie Belle most often brings in lizards, mice, and voles, but she occasionally catches baby bunnies in the early spring.
 

One of the many baby bunnies brought in by Louie Belle

Usually the wee rabbits are calm and subdued, but occasionally she grabs a lively one who vehemently protests the kidnapping (or bunny-napping, as it were). Don't let their tiny bodies and mild nature fool you; their screech can rival a fire alarm (seriously!) in volume and shrillness when they're upset. 

One early Sunday morning (while Jay was at work, of course), I was jolted from the deepest sleep by ear-splitting shrieks. As I lurched out of bed, I instinctively grabbed a shirt that was in a Goodwill pile. I threw it over Louie Belle who was crouched in the hallway with a screaming bunny in her mouth. As she dropped the little cottontail, I scooped it up in the shirt and stumbled out of the front door, still half asleep, while Zoe barked and ran circles in the foyer, overstimulated by the startling event.  

I quickly dropped the loosely-wrapped bunny under a bush next to the porch, and then turned to go back inside.

Just in time to see Zoe, in her considerable excitement, bump the door.

Which closed it.  

And automatically locked it. 

I stood dazed, disheveled, and wearing only my knee-length sleep shirt. I tried to tell myself that I was surely still in bed, dreaming, but the freezing rain on my bare feet finally convinced me otherwise.

Louie Belle and Zoe bounced from window to window to watch as I waded through frigid puddles and squished through mud to get to the backyard (I swear they were giggling), desperate to find our hidden key and fervently praying that the neighbors were still sleeping.

Caleb is now my favorite pet.

Zoe and Louie Belle trying to look innocent while thinking:

Baby bunny:  Free
Door nudge:  Free
Look on Mom's face when she realized we locked her outside in her sleep shirt:  Priceless!

Verse of the day:  (Revelation 3:20) "I (Jesus) stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in..." 
  
To read about a lovely gift that Jay did not appreciate, click here.To read about more presents from my pets, click here. 

Look Bad, Taste Good!

Sadly, our delightful Korean neighbor, Ja-eun, sold her house to move to another state. She stayed with us for a week while she sorted through some boxes she'd stored in our front room. The house was quite busy with people coming and going as she distributed her goods. I mostly stayed out of the way.

One evening, Ja-eun called me into the foyer to introduce me to a couple, Youn and Myeong, and their 8-year-old son Seungmin. Seungmin was incredibly excited to meet Caleb (my medical alert dog) since Jindos are indigenous dogs from the Jindo Island off of South Korea. Ja-eun chatted with the family in Korean while I stood, smiling politely. Finally, she turned to me, laughing, and said, "Oh, boy like dog so much he want come every day play with him."

I chuckled, agreeably, "Oh, that's cute."

Ja-eun continued, "But I tell him 'No! Once a week only!'  Jay work Thursday? They come Thursday 5 o'clock."

Wait. What? She apparently told them the same thing in Korean, and they walked out the door. Well, okay then! 

I thought it was pretty funny until I realized that Ja-eun was leaving on Wednesday.

Me:  Um, Ja-eun, you’re leaving Wednesday. What am I supposed to do with them when they come on Thursday?

She:  Anything okay.

Me:  Do they even speak English? The only Korean words I know are “bulgogi” and “kimchi.”

She:  Is good! Need American friend so can learn English.

Me:  Okaaay. Um, will they be hungry? Am I supposed to serve them dinner? 

She:  Anything okay. 

Me:  What would I make? What do they like? What don’t they eat?

She: Anything okay. 
 
Well, okay then.  Ja-eun left Wednesday, and Thursday, at 5 PM sharp, Myeong (pronounced me-YOUNG—a great name because everyone confesses youth when they call her) showed up with little Seungmin (SING-men) in tow. He ran outside to play with Caleb while Myeong and I attempted conversation. She was shy with her English, so I just babbled nervously, hoping she understood some of it.

Jay was going through a stage where he wanted to learn how to cook, and he was in the kitchen making Stuffed Shells. The third time I heard him mutter (loud enough for me to hear in the den), "There's not enough stuff to stuff these shells with," I knew it was a cry for help. I excused myself and went to check on him. He already had one tray of shells stuffed and in the oven, but there was a pile of empty pasta shells next to a nearly empty bowl of stuffing. 
  
Puzzled, I looked over the recipe and remarked, "Odd. You'd think the 4 cups of ricotta cheese alone would be more than enough to stuff all the shells--even without adding the rest of the ingredients."

Jay responded, "Oooh, the ricotta..." Oops.

I opened the tub of ricotta cheese. Myeong wandered into the kitchen and wanted to taste it. Unsalted skim-milk ricotta is pretty flavorless, and her expression said that only her lovely Korean manners kept her from spitting it across the room.

I pulled the pan of shells out of the oven and scooped out the stuffing. The mozzarella topping was half melted and some of the tomato sauce from the bottom of the pan got mixed in, so after I added the un-stuffed-stuffing to the ricotta cheese, it looked like someone had thrown up in the bowl. Not pretty.  

Myeong took one look at the vile mixture and earnestly informed me, “We eat home.  We not eat here. No. Eat. Here.”  Korean food is supposed to look beautiful as well as taste good, so I understood her reaction.

“You don’t have to eat this,” I assured her as I re-stuffed shells. “You no eat--is okay. Jay and me eat. Food for Jay and me.” Although, the way it was looking, I wasn’t sure I wanted it either.

She responded with something indecipherable that I assumed was about dinner. 

But then she walked out the front door. 

And drove away. 

Well, okay then.  

I looked into the backyard. “Um, Jay, she left. And, um, her kid is still here.” 

“What!” Jay looked out the window, panicked.

“I have no idea what she said. Maybe I agreed to babysit or something."

We called Seungmin in.

Me (trying to sound casual to not cause alarm):  Honey, your mom just left. Do you know where she went?

He (entirely unconcerned):  No.

Me:  Do you know when she'll be back?

He:  No. 

Me:  Do you think she went to pick up your dad from work?

He:  Maybe.

Me:  Do you know where your dad works?

He:  No. 

Me:  Do you know where you live?

He:  No.

Me:  Do you know your mom’s cell phone number?

He:  No.

Me:  OK. Go play.

Seungmin skipped back outside while Jay paced the floor, fretting, “Did we just agree to adopt their kid? What do we do if she doesn’t come back? We don’t even know their last name!” 
 
I thought this was the most interesting thing to happen all week and cheerfully steamed broccoli and threw some garlic bread in the oven. After about 45 minutes, Seungmin and I were too hungry to wait any longer and dug in. Jay was too agitated to even take a bite, although the Stuffed Shells actually were quite tasty.

Myeong finally returned with Youn, much to Jay’s relief. He offered Myeong some Stuffed Shells, which she emphatically declined. Youn was exhausted from working a 12-hour day and starving. He looked askance at the pasta, but since Seungmin hadn't turned green or passed out, he allowed Jay to put some shells on his plate.
 
Youn put the first bite in his mouth and exclaimed, with undisguised shock, "Oooh, is good! Look very bad, but taste is good!"

After watching Seungmin and Youn eat with enthusiasm, Myeong finally cut one shell in half and placed the lonely half-bite in the middle of her plate. 

A dinner serving of Stuffed Shells, in Myeong's opinion

Bracing herself, she tried it. “Oooh, is good! Look very bad, but taste is good!”   

They asked for second and third helpings, repeating their favorite phrase (sounding utterly amazed) literally every few bites. Seungmin’s mouth was never empty enough to comment.

We'd baked sugar cookies from frozen dough during the meal. When we offered our guests the cooled sugar cookies, they kept saying, "Is not cook. Is not done," and we kept answering, "They're sugar cookies. They don't get brown. Is done."

Jay had run through a gamut of emotions in the past two hours, so he handed Youn a cookie and uncharacteristically commanded, "Eat!"

Dubiously, Youn took a bite and exclaimed, "Oooh, is cook. Look very bad, but is good!"

Shortly afterwards, they left. As they were going out the door, we heard, “Okay, see Thursday. Five o’clock!” Well, okay then. Ja-eun instructed us to meet once a week, and apparently that's what was going to happen.  

I decided to continue our trend of serving unsightly meals. We made casserole the next week, spaghetti with meat sauce the week after, and then pizza, and so on. You know exactly what they said after tasting each one!

Verse of the day:  (Romans 12:13) "Share with the Lord's people who are in need. Practice hospitality." Some of us need more practice than others.
________________________________________

Follow up:  On their second visit, Seungmin shyly said that he didn't have any relatives in the USA and asked if he could call us Aunt Pamela and Uncle Jay. That warmed my heart, but I was completely hooked when he offered to give Caleb a bath. He's been our honorary nephew ever since. They've been coming to our house for seven years and counting, even though we haven't served a pretty meal yet!

For another Korean story, see "House Guest Hash (Not a Recipe)."

Jay (happy to discover a source of free labor),
Seungmin (too young to know that washing a dog is a chore), and
Caleb (miserably wondering what he did to deserve such punishment)

My Native American name is "Mighty Rodent Hunter"

This story about Louie Belle (our cat) is in honor of "International Louie Louie Day." (Yes, that's a real holiday. I know, I'd never heard of it either.)

It's natural to enjoy giving gifts to those whom we love. However, it's best to give them gifts they'd prefer to receive. A gift they do not like, even if you believe it is good for them, is usually not a welcomed gift.

Case in point:  Our cat, Louie Belle, thought I'd benefit from the gift of exercise. She decided to bring live critters through her cat door and set them free in the house to give me the dubious thrill of catching them to put them back outside. She only does this when my husband Jay is working a 24-hour shift at the fire station because this precious gift (eye roll) is for me alone.

One night, I was in bed watching TV when I thought I saw something skim past the door. When it ran by again, I leaped after it, yelling for Caleb to join me. Jindo dogs are small-game hunters, so I assumed he'd be eager to help. Instead, he opened one eye and then went back to his nap. Of course.

"You can handle it; I have faith in you, Mom."

The invader was a rotund, brown rodent about 5-6" long and nearly as wide. It had a stocky body and a short, stubby tail.  Kind of like an over-stuffed Twinkie with little feet. A type of marmot or an overfed lemming, perhaps. Its face was round with cheeks as chubby as mine when I was a small child.



My pretty sister on the left
Me, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the chubby rodent (minus fur and tail), on the right

I scrambled into the den after Mr. Chubby just in time to see him duck behind our  ridiculously heavy couch. With Louie Belle watching, I huffed, and I puffed, and I blew it down. I mean, I finally lifted it. Chubby was no longer there. Louie crawled under to sniff where he had been, and then she, inexplicably, sat down to await his return. Arms trembling from exertion, I grabbed her tail and hauled her out with one hand before I dropped the couch with the other. Although I rescued her from being flattened like a feline pancake, she stalked away, clearly offended. Of course.

I scoured the den for Chubby. Rifling through the toy bin (yes, our pets have their own toy bin), I hit one of Caleb's nubby, stuffed animals--the one with a recording device inside. I'd taped a message for Caleb to listen to while we were away one weekend, and when I jostled the toy, my recorded voice blurted out, "Oh, you're my sweet Shmoopy Shmoo, I love you soooooo much..." When he heard that, Caleb ran in, wagging his tail in (what he assumed was) equal adoration. I glared at him for ignoring me earlier while my life was in imminent danger (don't judge me--it could have been a ninja-trained rodent, for all you know), so he walked off, puzzled, as I continued my frantic search.

Minutes later, I was thrilled to discover Chubby cornered in the living room by Caleb and Louie Belle. When they saw me, they politely backed away to let their Alpha (me, apparently) take over the hunt. Which gave Chubby time to toddle behind a bookcase.  Of course. 

Caleb and Louie sat, watching me with undisguised interest in how I would proceed. They cocked their heads in simultaneous curiosity when I moaned in frustration, "Why did you let him go? What kind of hunters are you?"
 

Caleb and Louie Belle, a duel embarrassment to small-game hunters everywhere

Moving the bookcase was not an option, so I banged on it for a bit.  Nothing happened. So, I shook it. Which made a hefty silk plant fall from the top of it and bounce off of my head. Of course.  

Louie and Caleb bolted in panic, so I spent the next five minutes rubbing my scalp and begging my "loyal" companions to return. They were deaf to my pleas, but Chubby grew so tired of my voice that he tried to sneak out of the room. I spotted him as he neared Caleb, who'd taken refuge in the foyer from the scary, "flying" plant. Did Caleb catch the rodent approaching his slavering, canine jaws? Nope. He placidly watched (of course) as I chased Chubby past him, shrieking, "Catch him, you stupid dog! Catch him!"

I pursued the Chubby's ample behind down the hall, into the bathroom, and trapped him behind the toilet. Caleb ambled in after me, so I sternly told him to stay, hoping his presence would discourage Chubby from trying to escape under the bathroom door. I found Louie Belle hiding under the bed from the "flying" plant, dragged her out, and shut her into the bathroom, too. I had to poke Chubby before she even figured out he was there. I can’t understand how she caught him in the first place. I think she was dozing the grass with her mouth open, and he accidentally crawled in.

I found an empty shoebox and ran back. When I opened the bathroom door, my guard animals were staring at the door with their backs to their quarry. Of course. Thank God (and I did), Chubby was still there. He was exhausted (he needs to lose weight if he's going to run indoor marathons) and napping by the bathtub. I was so spent that I wanted to join him, but, instead, I prodded him into the box, carried him outside, and set him free on the front porch. He waddled away and did a belly flop off the top step. "Eat a salad," were my parting words. 

I couldn't believe Caleb and Louie's apathy towards live prey. What did I have to do to get their interest? Put ketchup on him? He was cute, so I'm glad they didn't kill him, but was it unreasonable expect predators to catch him? He ran like a walrus, so how hard could it be? 

My lame attempts to capture Mr. Chubby convinced Louie Belle that I desperately needed more practice hunting, and her gifts of live prey continue.  

Someone needs to tell her that I prefer chocolate.  
  

Verse of the day:  (Romans 6:23) "The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." Now that is one gift worth keeping.

For another story about how my pets torment me, click here. 
To read how I found the perfect gift for Jay (in my estimable opinion), click here.