Her own soundtrack peeps!

I was perched on the love seat across from the sofa in his living room. He handed me a glass of wine and motioned in the air to reference the music playing.

"I hear this when I am talking to you...you have your own soundtrack!" He was emphatically gesturing as he spoke. "More than one song reminds me of you, you always have so much going on upstairs I like to pretend you hear it too!" I laughed in disbelief. Then he sat down on the other side of the room and contemplated me as I reclined back into the cushions. "That is the perfect spot for you, under that painting!" I hadn't noticed what was behind me. It was a large portrait of homage to Marilyn Monroe.

He always seems to make me feel better about myself.

No wonder he's a best friend!

Cats are natural predators! Well...sort of

My room mate and I were residing in a large old house out on the West plains. The middle of nowhere, surrounded by farmland and hardly any neighbors. One winter, we were besieged by mice coming in from the cold. We have two cats. They had never encountered a mouse before. (We also had these things called Meadow Voles - they are the size of a mouse with a shrew like nose and darker brown, but that happens a little later in the story!)

One morning, early, before the sun was up, I was standing in my bathroom preparing for work. Down the hallway in the living room, I heard a commotion. More of a crashing, cursing yell point in fact. I poked my head into the hall to see what was happening. The house was dark save for the light streaming from my open bathroom door. Suddenly, that darkness was broken by the bright beam of light coming from the season three X Files Mag Lite my room mate was holding over her head as she ran towards me. I turned my attention to what it was focused on. Like an escaping prisoner, a small mouse was caught in that spotlight circle of light. Jamie chased the offending creature down the hall past my bathroom and into the back rooms of the house. She was followed by first the gray, then the black cat. They both had looks of confusion on their faces as she shouted 'encouragement' (IE: "You're the damn cat - get the damn mouse!!)

I went back to my preparing for work as more ruckus came from the other side of the house. Soon, the gray cat came racing by me, heading back towards the relative safety of the living room. He cast me look as if to say "You want me to put that in my mouth? That was never part of the deal people!! Come on!" This is a learned technique, one they never learned from mama before the adoption into our little household.

From the first day however, they soon discovered how much fun it was to play with the mice. More importantly, how much fun it was to make the people chase the cat, who held the live mouse in it's mouth, run from one end of the house to the other, just to drop the live mouse, watch it scamper, chase and catch it again, race to the other side of the house and hearing the people yell and scream "give me the mouse!!" as they ran after you. This is cat fun!

I admit, I didn't really chase the cats, I don't like to encourage the behavior, but they certainly seemed to enjoy themselves!

This is the reason I believe I was the lucky one to meet the meadow Vole. I was seated on the floor in front of the couch, drinking a wonderful cup of tea when the black cat approached me. He sat himself down at my feet and opened his mouth. Out tumbled a wet, bedraggled, tiny, shrew like creature, shaking from fear and was now sitting on the floor in front of me. The cat looked awful proud of himself. I admit, I was a little shocked, but quickly drained my teacup and set it upside down on the poor thing to keep it from running away and starting the torture all over. The cat regarded me in confusion. I wasn't supposed to react as such apparently. He wanted me to chase him. I don't chase cats...they need to learn this early in life. You don't come inside when I ask, then your ass is staying outside until it is convenient for me to let you in. Thank you very much!

For the next few weeks, we began finding the corpses of 'played with to death' mice. No signs of actual trauma, save for wet fur. Their little faces frozen in fear, as they most likely had heart attacks from all the excitement.

I felt bad - but our boys never learned how to be mousers, and I lack the knowledge of how to swiftly break my prey's neck to ease the pain and fear with an instant death.

My mother never taught me that either!

Work time musings

I recently re-emerged into the light.

So to speak.

I took a different position with my company, and have found myself situated once again in the public eye. Instead of just dealing with my co-workers, I deal directly with patients once more. At my new vantage point, I peer out into a waiting room filled with people patiently seated and talking amongst themselves, straining to hear their names being called to come into the inner sanctum of our dental chairs. Or they are waiting for their meds to be filled. Either way...I get some traffic.
In the week since my transition, I have received a lunch invitation from a flirty older gentleman, a prompting to make beautiful babies by a fiesty Irish woman who was enthralled by the Claddagh I wear on my left hand, and a 4 year old (proudly proclaiming his age by raising his four fingers and grinning at me) who told me I had pretty hair and that I should talk to his daddy.

I had forgotten how interesting it was to people watch, even at work!

Hmm - does this mean that Tara the Antisocial (whom I have been titled recently) is considering coming back into the general population?

We shall see!

Burning times

I was laying in bed last night and my phone rang. It was just in front of midnight. Upon answering, the only sound I heard was a breathless sob and a very soft voice saying my name.

"I left him...Oh God Tara...I left him!"

Instantly awake, I sat up and clutched the phone closer, feeling that I was holding her hand instead of a cell. I dutifully listened to her explanation, the reasoning she put herself to, the excuses as to why she hadn't left sooner. "He tried to hurt my son." She stated.
I could feel the anger building in me, and I physically bit my tongue to keep from saying what was on my mind.

In times of crisis before, in the single times, in the no children times, I was the one that kept her safe. Her life strange and filled with odd people attracted to her and bringing with them their even stranger lifestyles. I would get these calls in the night when she was in trouble and needed rescue.
"Where are you?" I would say, in an instant I would swoop in to save her. As we got older, she grew to rely on herself with my coaching, and gradually, she determined to save her own life. She had gotten married, moved out of state, had a child. Things were good for a while.

Then he started to hit her.

It hurt me so much to know I couldn't step in and thrash him for her, that she needed to make the choice to stay or leave on her own. 8 months ago, when her son was born, things changed even more drastically. She called for advice constantly. I never accused her of making the wrong decisions to stay. It wasn't up to me, though inside I was screaming it to her.

When the child wouldn't stop crying, he had raised a hand and she had intervened. She faded into the night and didn't want to look back. She had found that one thing worth saving more than just herself.

This time, I couldn't get in the car, drive to where she was and bring her to safety.

So, she did it for her son. She found the solace and the strength to be there for someone who needed her.
"I became you." She claimed. "I drew on you because I knew you wouldn't have let anything happen to someone you loved."

They are safe now. That's all that matters. She is stronger than she knows.