Whatever-it-is visited again midday on Saturday. One object had been moved from in front of a hole that seems to bypass the barn door. One visit yesterday, bricks and lid on floor. Must refill trash can with crumbles to make it easier for whatever-it-is to climb inside. The level is getting low. Stairs? There's a thought. Actually, if it scrambles enough to get in, it might just tip the entire can over and solve several issues at once. Still ignoring scratch can.
Fauna count for Sunday (and this is already enough) one skunk in woodshop (formerly a garage) looking for birdseed. So much for J's idea that the voracious mice were eating the birdseed and the cats had fallen down on their jobs. Skunk wrangling is not in their job description. It's not in J's either. He used another door to load his car for his early morning drive to the airport. Smells nice and skunky in there. I put out a bowl of dry cat food at a safe distance. (Everything eats that, remember?) Have to remember to pick it back up before the dog gets it. Had to hold the dog back from investigating the fascinating smell in the woodshop. Dogs have no sense when it comes to a skunk. This is why J is not fond of skunks. I never had a dog growing up and all my cats were smart, so I like skunks just fine. 'Aunt Sally's Friends in Fur' and Thornton Burgess and all that.
Frog Out
