Living with mustelids
Aug. 27th, 2009 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rorqualIt's Thursday. I left work a bit early because I felt, and still feel, under the weather. I think the dental work done on Tuesday stretched all the muscles in my head, and I've had a headache I can't shake with pills or naps. So here I am on the couch in the living room. The crickets are very loud.
I see movement in the pantry; it's Butters. He's moving with a purpose, heading for the empty box with the hole cut in the side he likes to hide things in. He reaches into the box, grabs something, pulls back, folds himself up and falls over backwards. He now has the stuffed turtle in his mouth. And off he goes, porch-wards, probably to hide it in the cabinet he and Otto like to nap in. Just as mysterious as when he arrived.
It happens all the time; I'm just sitting here, and they cruise through, rattle down the stairs, carrying things from room to room. They aren't like cats or dogs; they don't necessarily want to hang out with me, or be on my lap. They'll follow me around when I let them out, or when they want to play; I'm often surprised to turn around and find one lying behind me. Otto will put his head on my foot while I'm at the sink sometimes. But mainly, they're tiny, adorable little mysteries. Domestic weasels - who would have imagined!
I see movement in the pantry; it's Butters. He's moving with a purpose, heading for the empty box with the hole cut in the side he likes to hide things in. He reaches into the box, grabs something, pulls back, folds himself up and falls over backwards. He now has the stuffed turtle in his mouth. And off he goes, porch-wards, probably to hide it in the cabinet he and Otto like to nap in. Just as mysterious as when he arrived.
It happens all the time; I'm just sitting here, and they cruise through, rattle down the stairs, carrying things from room to room. They aren't like cats or dogs; they don't necessarily want to hang out with me, or be on my lap. They'll follow me around when I let them out, or when they want to play; I'm often surprised to turn around and find one lying behind me. Otto will put his head on my foot while I'm at the sink sometimes. But mainly, they're tiny, adorable little mysteries. Domestic weasels - who would have imagined!
