Death has visited the Prairie Box this week. (Hang in there with me, I’m being dramatic.) First off was a mama squirrel out front. Ew. Boy, am I glad that my husband took care of the carcass–dead critters totally gross me out after one incident with maggots. Ew again [shudder]. Evidently mama squirrel was actively nursing a little one, who I almost stepped on a few days later. Fortunately, baby squirrel is no longer in the yard. I’ll assume Jeremy took care of that one, too.

And then there’s Betta. Rest in peace, dear blue fish. There is a great chance that we caused his death as we weren’t feeding him very often. In my own defense I’ll say that Betta wasn’t eating well so I wasn’t very routine in the feeding of a fish who wouldn’t eat. Then again, all living creatures must die someday, so perhaps Betta died from natural causes… Or perhaps Livia’s little hand in his bowl one too many times caused him to have a heart attack. Alas, at least he didn’t stroke out and live half-heartedly for months on end (like his predecessor, Goldfish, another blue betta). Now we welcome to the family Geoff. Geoff was almost named Greg, as in Greg Wiggle, but then Liv decided to name him after the purple Wiggle instead. I’m rebelling against the whole thing by spelling Jeff with a G. Somehow that makes the name more bearable. Livia is a phenomenal namer; really, she has a gift. But naming the fish after a Wiggle? G. E. O. F. F. Geoff is a fine red betta, fast and animated. I foresee a long, enjoyable future for him, complete with regular feedings.

Finally, the human Tredways cheated death this week. Okay, not so much. (I said I was being dramatic.) But we did have a little adventure after discovering the odor of gas in the house. A stove burner had been left on, no flame to be seen, probably by yours truly. With that common-sense mind of his, Jeremy cleared out the fumes by opening doors and windows and letting the lovely night air in. Add a little sense of panic to common sense and you have me calling the gas company at midnight and then promptly turning the small event into a Big Event. “Do NOT turn on a fan, a light, anything. LEAVE the house immediately. WAIT until the company inspects the leak to re-enter your home.” In a heartbeat I had Liv wrapped in a quilt and out the front door. And so the three human Tredways sat on their front steps in the quiet, dark night, blinded only by headlights periodically coming down the street. Twenty minutes turned into 30, which turned into 40. Finally, a kind and sleepy man from the gas company walked through the Prairie Box and declared everything okay. Livia enjoyed the midnight adventure. Jeremy knew we didn’t really need to call the gas company. And I felt sheepish but slept well knowing we wouldn’t perish in our beds that night.

That’s it, our week in a nutshell. Death, life, and enough drama to keep it real.

Geoff says hello.