...posted that innocent-looking, butter-wouldn't-melt picture of Canis Minor yesterday. And why do cartoonists always show cats chasing mice? Terriers chasing things (especially if they haven't a chance of actually catching them) are far more hilarious to watch - at civilised hours, that is. (And a fair bit noisier.)
At two o'clock this morning we were woken by a crash and a yelp of excitement. From then until it was time to get up there were regular sounds of tearing up and down stairs, growls and whines of frustration, and things being knocked over. All this despite some fairly strong words of admonition, and HALO searching with a torch to find the quarry.
We still don't know what it was... In the colder weather the mice under the shed have been known to come into the house to get warm. As did a squirrel, once. And one memorable night, the neighbours' cat managed to get itself locked into our house at bedtime. In the not-so-still watches of the night, though, it was easy to imagine creatures Even Worse. (That is a horrid value judgment, and does not fit at all well with my reading of "God saw that it was good" in Genesis. But you know what I mean.)
I'm exhausted today. And I'm up to Noah in Genesis: I imagine the nights were pretty noisy on the Ark... Perhaps not surprisingly, the "word" that struck me this morning was that Noah means rest. "He walked with God". And God gave him precise measurements and instructions for building the Ark: one presumes he'd never tackled such a project before. So why do I lose so much rest worrying about exactly how everything's going to work? As though the project is mine and I'm in charge...