48 hours in Rockland

Thursday I took the morning off from work to take care of a few errands that need to be done during the work day.  First, I went to the DMV to (finally) get my Maine driver's license.  The office opens at 8:00 a.m.  We (David was with me, having the day off of work) arrived at about 7:55.  There were 3 other cars in the lot.  I was first at the door, and the number machine gave me number 001.  Within 3-4 minutes I was called to the counter.  Turns out I forgot to bring a second form of identification, so I had to go back home and get my birth certificate.  The DMV clerk signed my number 001 so I could come right back up when I returned.  Ten minutes later I was back with the birth certificate.  We went through the various forms.  Then she told me that unfortunately she wouldn't be able to complete my application at that time because their camera was "down."  It turned out to be "system wide" which meant it was a priority for Maine IT to fix.  She took my phone number and said she'd call me when it was fixed.

David and I went had breakfast at our favorite local cafe, went to the post office, where I had to wait in line behind two persons (the first who couldn't get it through his head that if he lives on Main Street in Rockport and has a house with an in-law apartment - #41 and #61a - he does NOT need to fill out a request to establish a Rural Route delivery in order to have mail delivered to the in-law apartment).  After the PO, we went to the vet's office so I could buy heart worm and anti-flea and tick meds for Ella.  Back home to a message from the DMV woman. Camera fixed.

I went back to the DMV, waited about 3 minutes for the clerk to finish serving another customer, and then went right up.  My photo was taken and I received a temporary license.   Done.  A typical example of what "bureaucracy" means in Maine.

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8:00 p.m., I take Ella for her evening walk.  It's raining, it's been raining almost all day, off and on.  Grey and pretty dreary, but cool.  Ella is doing her normal Cat Scanning, Squirrel Scanning action, but there's not a lot of targets, in fact none, as I guess all creatures are hunkered down wherever they can get out of the rain.  Suddenly as we pass a parked car, Ella stops, and then Zap!  A cat springs out from under the car and it and Ella face off.  It's a fairly small, normal seeming black and white cat.  I don't recall if it's a cat we've seen before (Ella and I know almost ALL of the cats in our neighborhood).  It does its arch-the-back and hissssss! thing.  

I'm holding Ella back.  She thinks she'd like to grab it by its little scrawny black and white neck and toss it around, but...   I start pulling Ella back, thinking that as we move away, the cat's back will lower and it will slink off.  But  no, that's not what happens.  The cat moves forward, toward us.  Of course, that makes Ella more interested.  It's a challenge!  Even more determined to rip its little head off, Ella strains at the leash.  I pull her back and start pulling her down the street.  The cat keeps coming toward us, it's chasing us, the little sucker.  An 8 pound pissed off cat is chasing a 74 pound dog and a woman down the street! 

The cat is not afraid of us, but truth be told, I'm a little afraid of it.  It looks crazed, like a cat gone mad.  I have a sudden thought - rabies!  I slap out toward it (not actually trying to hit it) with Ella's leash.  Doesn't phase it.  The cat keeps coming after us, and ends up chasing us 20+ yards down the street.  I'm laughing out loud, Ella is pulling back, wants to take on the little tough beast and best it, but I'm not a little freaked out.  Chased down the street by a cat???  

We turn the corner and I make Ella pass the next street because I'm thinking, what if the cat cuts through the back yards between its street and this one and comes after us.  Okay, I admit it's a stretch, that that cat chased us!  So we go a couple streets up and then turn back toward home.  Done.


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Next day, 5:00 p.m., David's home, I'm taking a break to start dinner before going back to work for a couple of hours, when there is a "thud" sound at the window that looks out on our little back "deck."  "What was that?" David asks.  I don't know.  He goes and opens the back door, "It's a bird," he calls.  I go to see.  It's a baby, most likely some kind of sparrow, tiny.  It must have flown into the window.  It looks dazed, but definitely alive, kind of standing with legs spread apart, the way a toddler does when he or she is learning to stand up, shaky but determined.  

I come in the house to get a little bird seed to put on the deck for it.  When I come back with the seed, it must see me and it flutters its little wings, rises wobbly into the air, lands on the edging of the window on the back door, which is still half open.  I have a sudden vision of trying to catch a baby sparrow flying around our house, and I move to pull the door shut before it flies INTO the house.  It takes off and flies up and into the thicket of trees in our back yard.  Go, baby, go!  Grow up, be well, thrive and come dine at our feeders!  Done.

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48 hours in Rockland.

Peace.