Custer the Friendly Kirk Mouse

I huffed and puffed and ranted and raved as Cassie and I were alone one evening last week:

"Oh Bother! Oh Bother!" I mumbled and stumbled.

"Rats, cats, and sneaky traps!" I fussed and I mussed.

"You can babble and bubble.. but it’s all toil and trouble,

 In a big mud puddle!"

Cassie was a bit alarmed as well she might: "Oh whatever is the matter?! You’re carrying on so, you'd think someone chopped your tail off with a butcher knife! Have you lost your hat? What is going on?!" she said in her most matronly yet exasperated voice. "Oh I didn't think... well I was hoping...  well it’s this... I found another baited trap in the kitchen just an hour ago! I was really hoping for the best... that when that ex custo went away, that the new one... well it turns out he is setting traps too!  Oh Mother! Oh Father! It’s just such a bother!" "Oh just calm down", she said, "I'll fix you up some of your favourite blue cheese... that'll make you feel better!" I wasn't going to say no to that... there's nothing like comfort food to get my mind off things and my pleasantly plump Cassie knows that so well.

When she came back she not only had a big chunk of curdled cheese but a great idea to go with it. "Why don't you teach the kids all you know about traps" she said "Teach them what they look like and what to look out for. They need to know that if something looks too good to be true... like a wonderful slab of peanut butter just sitting there for no reason ... well, that just doesn't happen and if it does ... watch out!"  What a good idea! I thought to myself. I can spring the trap for the kids to see how it works and then explain it to them... yes I could!

The more I thought about it the more convinced I became.  And that is exactly what I did last night. In the wee hours of the night ... we hadn't heard anything for the last couple of hours except the rumble of the big, cold, fridge... I took my bountiful brood into the kitchen and showed them the trap. I made them all stand on one side and I said, “Kids...now watch carefully … this is how it’s done!” Then, in a flash, I brought my tail up and with a sweep and a whip-like snap the tip of my tail just barely touched the peanut butter as it whipped by...WHAM!  The trap snapped shut.

The kids jumped up in fright and scampered away... but I called them back and got them all calmed down. Turns out it wasn’t just the  trap that frightened them… a couple of them said they thought they had seen a ghost…  the ghost of the ex custo … Greybeard the Gruff himself! And he was shouting, “I knew it! I knew it!” “Oh come now… couldn’t be … couldn’t be… we don’t believe in ghosts now do we? I said in my most patriarchal voice. I didn’t let on but there have been times in the past where I thought I had seen him myself! I spent the rest of the night telling them stories of heroic and legendary heroes... of Two Toed Tommygun Tobias from Chicago who lost some toes to a rat trap... and the likes of  Slippery Sam Santiago who once squeezed through a crack and escaped from a so-called ‘live trap’ down in sunny Mexico. Well we talked a lot and it was quite a sober bountiful brood by the time we company.

Well, so long now... gotta’ get some sleep... it’s getting light... don't let the bed bugs bite!             Custer MC Esq.                                                        

24 Hour Retreat - February 27 & 28, 2012

24 Hour Retreat                    LDN                             Andy Buwalda                February 2012

It was with some trepidation that I began my 24 hour retreat. I spent an hour or so the night before packing… and Joey the same with putting together a care package for me… she did well… she put together enough to feed an army! The tools… I took all my tools… well not quite but a lot because experience has taught me not to be without the tools I need. If you have everything but you forgot your  blankity-blank-whatever, well then you are up the proverbial creek! I had made arrangements with the resident Woodsman at Kingfisher Bay Resort a week earlier to work on a rustic bridge of sorts which would ford the Mudsquat River that feeds Golden Pond.  This pond is the location of the cabin where I would be spending my 24 hour intentional time with God. How was I going to spend 24 hours doing … what again exactly?  I know I would be sleeping at least 8 hours so really it’s a 16 hour retreat.  And then of course I need to eat  (I am not into fasting  much)  and I gotta’ get my stuff  in order and all. And I’ll be in the cabin so I gotta’ stoke the fire to keep myself all cozy and happy.

I arrived at 11:30 … just a half hour before noon. The Woodsman was already down by the mouth of the river where he had some logs ready as planned.  We would be building right on the snow… and let nature do the rest … come spring we would see where the bridge had settled.

I loaded my stuff out of the van and into the cabin… but didn’t set up … more interested in surveying the situation on the proposed work site. Question: just where is my interest here anyway… the bridge or on God?  We discussed how and what we were going to build… we listened to each other’s ideas etc. and settled on a plan: the Woodsman would help me set up the big logs, and put two cross-pieces at either end. The two cross-pieces would have notches cut into them so that the logs – three of them spanning the gorge - could sort of sit in the notches.  I had taken some 12 inch lag bolts with me and a half inch wood bit and so I would lag the logs into the cross-pieces.  Where upon I would proceed to put the deck boards on.   We would finish it off with two smaller logs on top of the deck boards on either side as edging. Sounds simple enough, said Simon to the Pie man. The bridge, by the way would be approximately 6 feet wide and 18 feet long. It would not be a bridge too far… nor would it be a bridge too short… it would be a bridge just right.  Well… we shall see about that come spring!

Time to get to the matter at hand… do some meditating!  After all that is why I ‘m here…. right?  Okay gotta’ get myself set up… put my stuff away… get the food out … what exactly did Joey pack for me … awright … lotsa’ good stuff.   Put this here… put that there … what about this, that, and the other thing?  Okay,  now then, got that all done … Oh the fire – yes… needs some more wood…  so then that’s done … now what… I suppose … yes I suppose I should sit and be quiet or something. So I…

 …decided I needed to go for a walk… while it was still bright and sunny out. By this time it was about 2:30p m. I had already done about three hours work on the bridge … it was half done!

The walk was wonderful. Everything was quite… beautiful… serene… and it was easy walking thanks to the Woodsman’s ready-made trail. I stopped periodically to listen… no, not for God… I was listening to the woods…yes the woods.  It’s all very quiet but when you listen… stop and listen… hold your breath… there are lots of subtle sounds… especially in a winter wood like this one… in the depths of winter… the woods are asleep… not dead… no,  asleep… and it makes the sounds of sleep. Think of a baby … say six months old… and the baby is sleeping… there is a gentle rhythmic breathing… you only hear if you stop to listen… a soft snap of a branch… a slight scratch as Rufus the Red Squirrel scampers up a tree…  the crunching sound of your footsteps in the snow… stop… listen… it’s alive… all around … asleep … sap pails hung here and there… reminders of the great awakening  to come… tapping into the life blood  coursing through the trees…

I chanced to see… no, I did not chance to see at all… it was there, placed very conspicuously for me to read: Psalm 130… the profundis psalm … so called because, yes it’s profound - but more because it speaks of someone calling out to God “from the depths”.  It spoke to me … but to be honest, my mind turned to practical things. …I thought, “I could use this for Sunday’s congregational prayer… just change the pronouns from personal singular to personal plural.”  I took this Psalm back to the cabin with me.

Here is the psalm: (from the NIV):

 Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord; Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.  If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand?  But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you.    I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.  I wait for the Lord.   More than watchmen wait for the morning, Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption.  He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.

Here are some of my thoughts (meditations?) on this psalm.

“From out of the depths I cry Oh Lord” The writer is beseeching God … begging Him … crying out to God - from “out of the depths” - because he is desperate. The picture I get is someone in a deep, dark pit and he cannot get out. He looks up and can see a tiny spot of bright light and of course that is where his attention is directed… that is the escape route… that is where God is and that way lays salvation.  But it is so far away … like a pinprick of light … like a star… hardly giving any light or warmth at all.  To imagine someone that desperate is kind of difficult unless maybe you have been there. “Out of the depths” suggests the abyss… the depths of the ocean!   I don’t like those metaphors… the abyss and the “depth of the ocean” would mean death… and maybe that is what the writer feels… death is waiting. And so he pleads desperately for God and for mercy. Applying this to myself I don’t feel quite that desperate. I feel more like I am in a huge cavernous cave and all I hear are my own echoes. Like calling out across the Grand Canyon hoping someone on the other side (18 miles across) will hear you.   

Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.  For this let’s go back to the pit metaphor or even with the Grand Canyon… standing at the bottom of either and shouting for someone to hear you … your voice sounds feeble, hoarse… it sounds like it’s being swallowed by the walls and so you might think: “Isn’t there anyone out there? Can’t they hear me? Don’t they notice I am missing?  Somebody listen to me … I am down here … here … down here!!!”   The writer uses the word “attentive”. Now I don’t know what the word for ‘attentive’ is in Greek or Hebrew but in English it suggests someone paying attention to you as in not ignoring you.  So it seems to me there is a bit of a switch here from God ‘not hearing’ to God ‘ignoring’.  But still the writer beseeches God for mercy… he has some hope, else why would he even try to get God to help. Also, he knows that in the Lord lies his salvation and without God’s help he is in the depths of despair.

 If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand?  The writer knows that if God were to keep a record, and he , the writer, had to be accountable , he would be lost. The game would be up. He would have no hope. The thing is God does keep a record. .. the proverbial doomsday book… in which all that you have said and done is recorded. And so the writer is aware that no-one, and for sure not himself, could stand the scrutiny of the light of day and come out in the black. What if the Lord, the Creator of the universe were to list off and read back to him all his sins and transgressions? Or, to apply it to myself, what if He were to read me all my thoughts… down to the slightest misdeed…to the merest fleeting thoughtless thought. What if!  It would be so unbearable…who could bear it!

But with you there is forgiveness. This is a psalm. It was written before the Lord walked on this earth as one of us. But the writer knows and believes God is a merciful God… he believes that God will forgive.  How does he know this?  Is this another indirect prophecy of Christ redeeming his people? Or does he know because his knowing is a gift from God himself?! Maybe both.  In which case God is paying attention… sort of.

“so that we can, with reverence, serve you.”   Other translations use the word ‘fear’ instead of reverence.   If you believe God has the power and authority to forgive … and you feel you need forgiveness from Him… then you will definitely fear and respect and have reverence. To put it another way, wouldn’t you fear and respect someone who has the power of life and death over you? I dare say you would!

I am not going to finish my thoughts on the psalm… it is getting too long. And I do not want you to think I did that much meditating all in one stretch. Nope… I interspersed it with 15 minutes on my harmonica… but then I was winded. Am I out of shape or what! And maybe it’s also that I am getting older… there is always that as well.

Then I stoked the fire and sat back… just did some sitting and looking at the fire… munched on some cookies… thought about meditating… what was I doing… just be quiet and listen… ya,  listen… the walls have electrical outlets,  I wonder why the wainscoting has been painted white rather than just left natural… tomorrow I will put the rest of the deck boards on… knock, knock… come in… the Woodsman came to check up to make sure all is well… yes, yes, … please come in … here have some cookies… I have lots. The Woodsman and I chatted for a while … about this and that and the bridge just right and then he said goodnight after making arrangements to bring me a coffee at about 9:30 tomorrow morning. In our discussion he had informed me that Herman Elgeti had passed away.  We had just prayed for him Sunday in the evening service but apparently he had already passed away by then. After he left I made my bed … by unfolding the couch… and went to bed… and thought about Herman and death in general.

The next day was another lovely day… bright and sunny.  When the Woodsman came with the promised coffee I was ready for him. We sat and chatted some more over coffee and chocolate chip cookies… I had already had my breakfast. Then off to the bridge which wasn’t very far.  The Woodsman and I arranged for him to come back around 12 with the generator so we could saw off the one side of the bridge as the deck boards were all different lengths. He came at the appointed time… in another hour we were finished and the bridge was complete. More needs to be done to it, but it must wait till spring… at least until May I suspect.

So then I decided to walk again – down the Outback trail – back along the Cabin trail…then around the Andyman trail… and on back to the Outback trail. This is where I did the listening… to the sleeping woods… looking at the snow and the trees, listening to the birds (there weren’t many) … and again listening. Some might say it was eerie… but not I… but I was loathe to say goodbye.  And not because I was sad to leave… no, rather because I felt disappointed that I did not do more meditating… and now the intentional time I had allotted was gone or almost gone.

If you have gotten this far dear reader I commend you for your perseverance. I left at 1:45 p.m.   I had been there for 26 hours and 15 minutes. I went home the long way… by way of Omemee which is half way between Lindsay and Peterborough,…to visit brother William.  He has just lost a very good and best friend, Herman Elgeti. He and Herman spent a lot of time together doing the Lord’s work; William preaching at old age homes and Herman at Warkworth prison. Together they organized the Ulungo Mission project in Kenya for which I was their rep at Hebron. The mission was successful in getting a windmill, a water tank, and a clinic built for the surrounding villagers… a village devastated by poverty and AIDS.              

Thence home.


P S  As it happened, I made a three week mission trip to Kenya back in 2008 so I can picture  just what the village looks like. 

8 Hour Retreat on Stony Lake - April 2011

Eight Hour Retreat

Andy Buwalda

April 25, 2011

Kingfisher Bay Resort, Stony Lake, Ontario  (just north of  Peterborough)

We arrived, Joey and I, at 10:40 a.m. I deposited Joey at the big house with her paraphernalia and went directly to the cabin…the illegally built and therefore illegitimate cabin which sits at the other end of the property… on a pond. It is illegitimate in that the previous owners built it without the benefit of a building permit.  It exists, as is known in the municipal bylaw world as “…existing non-conforming” which is an existence of dubious security and limited rights. Now this cabin is out of the way and one needs to intentionally make ones way to it, which, along with its illegitimacy gives it “…a place set apart” quality to it. As well, it has a bit of a hunter’s cabin feel to it in that it has only the bare necessities. So…don’t worry about your shoes!

First I checked out the condition of the Andyman Trail… that is the path around the pond.  I noted that water feeding the pond  comes from two sides which was an eye-opener for me as during the summer it is only apparent that it comes in from one side. The pond is fed by runoff from surrounding slopes. It is not spring fed. So basically it is really a giant man made mud puddle and, yes indeed, it dries up in the summer.  Still, when the trees are in full bloom and the pond is full it is a very idyllic place with a charm very much its own. It really is  ‘a place set apart’. All that to say that the ‘cabin’ suits me (and my purposes today) very well.

And so to my purpose: I am using it… as a place set apart…  for my 8 hour retreat.  This is a retreat with the intention of being still… listening to God….speaking with God…and generally relaxing and resting. I got out my favorite camping chair, then my guitar, then my bible and notebook and ensconced my self on the deck. First I played my guitar for 15 minutes. This helped me to relax. After an hour and a half drive plus loading and unloading, all of which are intentional and busy activities, you need to relax even if you think you don’t.  Now then, time to pray which I did… maybe 15 minutes… but actually did very little praying…. The birds! The birds! Positively deafening! Many more than last year it seemed. And strangely I didn’t see one bird…notta one!...they were invisible…     tried to pray some more….Dear Lord, here I am, I am a sinner … yes I know it, and here I am trying to pray and hear you and listen for you and… more twittering, squawking  birds…. getting louder…. and louder …. and louder….

I opened my eyes and looked up… the birds were positively screeching… like it was a big panic…. I looked around at the tops of the trees … nothing….the pitch of the squawking increased even more… then out of the north … near level with the tree tops…on silent murderous wings… a short tailed hawk… sailed right across the pond. He looked neither left nor right… but supreme in his confidence and haughty disdain, flew on in the direction of the big house paying not the slightest heed to the cacophony around him.  Slowly the volume of the squawking rabble subsided with each silent wing beat that carried the intruding marauder away. The cabin community choir returned back to its rather irregular rhythm of chirp, burp, twitter and squawk. 

I decided to join the choir and make my contribution with my harmonica….some 15…maybe 20 minutes or so. That’s hard work if you don’t do it enough. I felt a bit winded after that. Time to take a break. Took a swig of coffee from my thermos, took out the tools from the back of the van and approached the deck railing. Now I need to explain; I had arranged to do some ‘mindless work’ while I was on this retreat and the appointed task we settled on was that I would begin the removal of said deck which was to be demolished. And so that is what I did. I removed all the top boards, removed the nails and tossed them into a coffee can and stacked the boards. O. K. time for lunch.

Lunch was good. Said a short prayer… felt guilty that I hadn’t done much praying… attacked the lunch…went down well…no problem there… two double cheese sandwiches and a thermos of coffee with a chocolate bar…thank you Lord… it was great! Sat back, sated and relaxed. Two hawks appeared  above the pond. These were much higher than the tree tops and soaring in concentric circles as hawks do when they are hunting.  These circles where, if one were to trace them on paper, basically spirals in so much as each repeating circle was further away…in this case further away to the north.  They soon disappeared from sight. More chirping, twittering and squawking…woody the woodpecker had apparently joined the ensemble. He must have found a tree that had a fair amount of hollowness to it as his percussion was quite resonating.  Well, time to write this down… have been writing for 20 minutes… time to close my eyes and listen to God.  This is when I became aware of Thumper the Grouse adding his base percussion to the  choir…. thump…..thump…..thump…. thump…thump..thump.thumo.thump. thumper er erererer…..actually 16 to 18 distinct thumps before the ererererererrrr part starts.  Sounds like a lawnmower perpetually starting then dying out ‘cause the carburetor is blocked!   Poor thumper! Needs a carburetor overhaul.

  

Hard to keep my mind on God. Very difficult not to listen to the birds…but what an amazing variation of bird calls. Time to do some more work. Took down two sections of railing and  removed two posts….goed –zo! Time to do some more meditating. So I walked down the Andyman trail and sat down on the white bench … one slat is broken … needs to be fixed… sat for twenty minutes thinking about everything and nothing. …decided to ford the mighty Mudsquat River where it feeds into Golden Pond….step over from rock to rock…no prob…sat in the Adirondack chair for a minute or two… decided to walk a bit of the ‘cabin trail’ then back again and sat down in the same chair with the stated intention of meditating. First I marveled at the afternoon community choir and instead of meditating I began separating the various calls and trying to locate the owner of each melody. Not being very successful at that I decided to add my own melody where upon I began to whistle….one long, three shorts, and a long…. thus: twweeeeeeeeeeeeet, tweet, tweet, tweet, twwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!

 I distinctly remember looking at my watch and it was almost 2:45… when next I remember it was 3:30!  I had fallen asleep…well that’s a pretty pickle…but secretly I was pleased… if I can sleep like that I must be pretty relaxed!  But, dear reader, just think….use your imagination…you walk up to the cabin and you spy some character across the pond …some grizzly old coot with a cowboy hat…. and he doesn’t move…not 5… not 10… not for a half an hour… what strange thoughts would go through your mind…I will leave you to your private imaginings.

Well a few minutes after taking in my surroundings and my state of drowsiness, I upped and forded the river again and back to the deck where I proceeded to do some more meditating. A swig of coffee, a couple of cookies,  however, dear reader, the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak… the remainder of the deck was beckoning. I decided to take the railing out of its misery. Half an hour later the deck railing was all but history. Then the phone rang … it was my dear wife… very hesitantly and  politely apologizing for interrupting my discourse with God  but that she needed to inform me that supper would be at 7 p m.  Good, good, good. Will be there.   Finished the job  … was putting the tools away when the phone rang gain…it was the woodsman himself wondering how I was getting along… I said ‘…come visit.. and hung up.  All was in order, tools put away, lumber stacked nice and neat, and so I sat and awaited the woodsman. He arrived in a bit of a pant – I think he had been running… maybe jogging… not sure… we discussed the deck, the boards, the cabin, the  trail, the other trail and then  yet another trail and then the  deck at which point he left in the direction he had come with a reminder that supper was at 7.

Now then, as it was only 5:30 I had some time yet… one more chance to meditate and listen for God… for the still small voice. Which I did… try to hear I mean. This time I sat at the old picnic table and wrote a bit and did some praying…and I got to thinkin’…it occurred to me that I was quite presumptuous…why should God be talkin’ to me anyway? I mean He’ll talk to me when he is good and ready! No amount of  meditating, praying,  retreating,   relaxing , is going to manipulate Him. And there is a bit of that in what I am doing… the manipulating I mean. On the other hand, the bible does talk about ‘…seek the Lord while he can be found’ or words to that effect. I continued to muss along in a general fashion on this thought…as I walked along the Andyman trail. I decided to check out the ‘Owl House’ that the woodsman had nailed to a tree. Turns out this is really a ‘wood duck house’. From this location there became apparent another  woodsman trail in the making. I followed this for a long  way and decided that I was not going to reach the end of it whereupon I turned and retraced my steps….back past all the sawn trees, logs,  the wood duck house and finally the cabin.

I looked around…. all was packed away…I locked up the cabin (I had only gone in once!) climbed into the van and drove over to the big house. It was 6:45 p.m.

 My time with God was over.  What an odd statement.  What do I mean, “…my time with God was over”!? And thereby hangs the lesson: time with God is not  scheduled and slotted  to be  punched on a time card. My time with God is anytime… just be listening… anytime and all the time. I might hear him…but then again I may not… but that doesn’t mean God does not exist…. or that he is not talking to me. The question or questions are: Am I listening?  And if I am listening, is my hearing acute enough to hear? Do I know what to listen for? Is my hearing so poor that it needs healing? Am I out of practice? Or maybe never even been in practice? 

My relationship with God has grown… however imperceptibly… with this experience…I am not at that place where I can put my finger on it as to how it has grown…but I know that it has.

Great Grey Heron of Blue

      

                        Grey Heron on Lake St Peter, On. - photograph by Alan Salter
                                        
                           Great  Grey Heron of Blue 
                                         (Andy Buwalda)
                                     
                                     Grave, strong, noble and blue,                       

                                       Soft rain, marshland and dew.

                                      Riverbank’s edge, he lands,

                                      A ghostly stalk, he stands.

                                       

                                      Blue-grey, hooded and hunched,

                                     An old man, bent and bunched.

                                     Staring, silent and still,

                                     Like steel, ready to kill.

                                    The great, grey heron of blue.

Book Review: Roots of Empathy

               

TITLE:                 Roots of Empathy                                                                      

AUTHOR:            Mary Gordon

PUBLISHER:       Thomas Alan Publishers

REVIEWER:        Andy Buwalda

If you are anything like me you  may have thought at times, when some institution or other comes out with an empirical study  and states, for example, that “… moderate and  consistent exercise is good for you “.  Duh!?

 Common sense … everyone knows that!

But then the question arises: why then are so many of us not exercising enough?

The basic thesis in Roots of Empathy is that empathy (the ability to recognize emotions, understand emotions, and respond emotionally to others) needs to be taught and needs to be taught at the kindergarten through to the end of primary school levels. The process of becoming emotionally literate, says author Mary Gordon, needs to start at infancy. To that end she started a program in 1996 with a government grant to introduce a curriculum in certain designated schools called the Roots of Empathy program otherwise known as ROE. In essence, a parent, usually a mother but sometimes a father, comes in with a real live baby and introduces the baby to the class. The baby lies on a large blanket with the children and teacher all around the edges of the blanket. They then proceed to ask about the baby, watch the baby roll over, or just try to stand, or cry, etc.  In interacting with the baby the children learn empathy.

The author makes a convincing case for the antidote to bullying. If bullying is caused by emotional indifference on the part of the individual doing the bullying, then logically that person hasn’t learned empathy and if they did they would not feel the need to be aggressive. Near the end of the book the author applies the same logic to nations and war in general. 

A few years ago I reviewed a book in this column called Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman who said much the same thing as this author but applied it to society in general and especially to men who have, and not necessarily by their own fault, been socialized not to feel but rather to “…be a man and buckle down and get the job done…” and so many of us became emotionally illiterate.

I think you would agree, and especially if you profess to be a Christians, that yes, we need to practice empathy for each other.  As Jesus said, “…love your neighbor as yourself”. So the question arises: why is there so much strife and unrest in the world?

A good book… a bit slow through the middle where I felt the author was redundant  and that the point had been made  but it picks up again  in the last 2 or 3 chapters where  the  philosophy underlying the thesis is dealt with. 
Well worth the read.  Indeed, it underscores the adage: The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.

Custer meets the church custodian

As I mentioned in my first  blog, I publish a church newsletter and in it I have this church mouse character I call Custer...Custer MC Esquire to be formal.  Now Custer has an arch enemy by way of the custodian who happens to be me. I am his arch enemy because I set traps for him and his 'bountiful brood'. What Custer does not know is that the custodian is also his creator'.
 In this segment Custer, for the first time, encounters  his arch enemy and  and 'makes his case'.






Custer the Friendly Kirk Mouse

Forgive me if I seem rude and not doin’ the ‘Hi, How are ya ’ thing. You see, I’m still in shock!  Yes I am!  I just had a run-in with that crusty old ex-custo – not the new one – no, not him – I don’t know about him… yet.  No, I mean the old one with the beard… the one the kids call Old Greybeard the Gruff!

It was just a chance encounter as these types of things usually are.  I was up in the organ loft just sort of ruminating around some old books and papers and stuff when, all of a sudden, Whamo! there’s   El Custo!  So I did what I always do… scurry away under something… this time under the papers. But he lifted ‘em up for some reason and there I was…. totally exposed with no place to run. I tell you I was mighty scared and I was shakin’ all over but nothin’ happened. No it didn’t! Yes, it didn’t. Oh that’s confusing. I mean nothing happened...  he just started talkin’ to me is all… yes he did.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Custer M C Esquire himself!  What are you doing here?”  he said. Now you’d think he would do something violent, but on hindsight what was he going to do standing there on a ladder with nothing in his hands. So I just said, with as much bravado as I could muster, “What’s it to you? Why don’t you mind your own business?”  “Oh I’m so sorry, Custer sir” he said with mocking politeness, “… but it is my business. You see, you are trespassing and it is my duty – well, it was my duty – to evict trespassers. I do not want you at Hebron.”

“Why not? I am a creature of God too! I am not trespassing” I said assertively and went on with . “…the Good Lord gave us this place to live after the ‘great commotion ‘ when you gigantics – you came with huge monstrous machines – and utterly destroyed our home and source of food! And now you persecute us, want to evict us by setting traps… not caring even if you trap babies or grannies! How barbaric! Who says this is your building anyway? Didn’t the Good Lord say in the Good Book that He owns everything … even the cattle on the thousand hills? So who do you think you are saying you ‘own’ this place? And furthermore, what are you gonna’ do when you are no longer here? Come on now, answer me! Someone else is gonna ’own’ it! … that’s what! and after they get old and grey and pass away someone else will ‘own’ it! See! What a whole lot of fakery this business you gigantics have of ‘owning’ something... delusions of grandeur I say! At best you could say you are stewards… stewards of Hebron! Well, okay then… so am I.  I am one of God’s stewards too!” Just then he received a phone call on his cell phone, “…Yes Jo Jo “I heard him say somewhat exasperated, “O K…I’ll stop by and pick up a loaf…” and so while he was distracted I scurried outta’ there!

Well that was my run-in with Greybeard El Custo… I hope it doesn’t happen again soon! In the meantime I feel quite good about my encounter…I told him a thing or two  didn’t I?…and now I am being feted as a hero by Cassie and the kids… by which I mean I get the ‘ranciest’ chunks of cheese! Hoo boy! Well,  gotta run…smell ya later.  

A possible solution of sorts!

If all goes well this should be my last squirrel squirmish post.  I have not heard any  noise in the garage attic for the last week... they have seen the light.... they have admitted defeat.... they have met their nemises.... they have lost hope.... they have moved on...  given in... sold out... cashed in their chips... seen the writing on the wall... they have submitted ...buckled under... succumbed in shame...  they have been humiliated .... they have bowed to pressure and acceded to superiority.... .... never to  rise again!  (or so I would like to think!)

Now then, as far as the video goes... I do not suggest that this is a viable option.... 'cause  one of my 'bushy tailed little fiends may get hurt!