Whenever one needs to lure a cat inside from the yard, the most reliable way to get the cat's attention is to rattle a cup of the cat's dry food. At least, that's what works best for the kids around here, who are only fed a small amount twice a day, rather than left with full bowls round the clock. (The only way to keep Jackie from getting so fat she splits her britches.) Sometimes our boys who jump the fence wander far enough away that they don't hear the rattling of crunchies, or maybe they just find the internal fortitude to ignore us, because being out is so much fun. The latter probably explains why Harvey was out for hours yesterday, refusing to show up before I left for Rotary. He was flopping around on the front porch when I drove up afterwards, showing off while the Mr took his picture.
Before we went to Costco yesterday, the Mr picked two giant zucchini from the garden. They were each about as big around as my calf, and nearly as long. I offered to fry one of them in tempura batter for lunch today, and I grabbed a pack of chicken tenders to go with them while I was going to be standing over hot oil anyway. I was supposed to conserve my energy to clean house before the D&D group came over to do character development for the next campaign. Instead, I wore myself out frying food for an hour, making enough that there is a large Tupperware in the fridge packed solid with leftovers. (Yes, I know, fried foods make terrible leftovers, but I'm heading into a tough food week, and the Mr is not that picky.)
I tried to convince myself to clean up the oily mess mid afternoon, but instead, I lay down across the foot of my bed, and fell asleep under a fuzzy blanket. My room wasn't even that cool, but I was just tired enough to be chilled. I woke after 5, and didn't get up and moving until almost 6. I probably only got up at all because I remembered that I was supposed to be in charge of feeding dogs and cats while the Mr was attending back-to-school events. Groggy, I went outside, and found Elsa contently chewing on a large beef bone she had been given in the last day. I heard nothing from Murray, and I peeked under the canopy of the chokecherry tree to discover the back gate was standing open about 45 degrees. Pushing down panic, I dashed out to the alley and looked up and down. There was Murray, well north of T's fence, sitting on his butt in the alley. His legs were filthy from bouncing around on the asphalt, and he was obviously ready for dinner. He didn't argue about coming back to our yard. It did take a while, however, because I can't lift him, and he hates it when I try. But he made it, and I was able to feed him and everyone else shortly after.
When T came over for Wednesday game night, he had a gift for us for taking care of his and his girlfriend's dogs while they were on vacation in California. We had texted him a photo of one of my t-shirts from college that I thought was long-since lost, but I found when we cleaned out the basement last week. I had a shirt from the old days at CU, when they celebrated Alferd Packer days in April (before they switched to celebrating 4/20 instead). This one was a drawing of Alferd Packer, the first convicted cannibal in US history, flipping a hand in a cast iron skillet, with the phrase "Alferd Packer supports disarmament" on the back. (My favorite had a version of the odd quote that was attributed to the judge in his case, but probably wasn't accurate on any level: "There was only seven dimmycrats in all of Hinsdale County, and you, you man-eating son of a bitch, you et five of 'em!" That one came out before I arrived at CU, so I never owned it.) So when T saw a game called "Donner Dinner Party," he decided we absolutely had to have it. I don't know when we will play it for the first time, but I'm going to demand that we play a round of it on April 18 next year.
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