It's a Dog Eat Dog World

The Knishmaster

I was born in Brooklyn, and you know what they say: You can take the girl out of Brooklyn but you can't take Brooklyn out of the girl. Give me a potato knish from Yonah Schimmel's and a couple of subway tokens and I'm happy. But do not give me a giant moth the size of a grapefruit hanging out on my back door and expect me to applaud. And also do not give me a huge Maine Coon cat weighing in at 14 pounds, batting around a teeny, tiny defenseless and adorable chipmunk weighing about eight ounces and expect me to watch, spellbound, as if it's a National Geographic special. This is what's going on at my house today, and while it's nature in all its glory, I am simply not comfortable with any of it.

Adorable chipmunk

The cat thing happened this morning. I was sipping coffee and looking at the day when I noticed Big Lurch having a grand old time with something outside, something with a tail, something that looked like it had escaped from a Disney cartoon. Turned out it was my pet chipmunk, Chip-or-Dale, who lives under the front steps but comes out sometimes to stretch his legs and get some acorns. Thankfully I was there, and went rushing out screaming, scaring off the two of them who ran in opposite directions. My husband thought I should not have intervened, muttering something about the Circle of Life and the food chain. (Sorry honey--not on my watch.)

Big Lurch

Lurch has not spoken to me since and is currently sulking in the corner, no doubt planning his next move. I wish he'd go after that moth--it's freaking me out.