Aaron Walters had it all; lived very comfortably in an expansive luxury penthouse atop one of those desirable downtown glitzy condo towers, possessed the right education credentials to get to know influential people who willingly opened those invisi...
The following morning I was awakened by faint but persisting sporadic scratching sounds that seemed to be originating from downstairs. My immediate thought was mice had gotten into the house again, because once inside, mice have a habit of quickly gravitating to the kitchen and invading my cupboards.
"#⁂₪※!" I swore aloud out of angry frustration.
Those pests methodically gnaw through at least one corner of every package of food and stuff stored there while leaving their telltale rice-sized dark brown droppings everywhere. The detested nuisances never seem to eat anything; they just sample enough to contaminate everything not stored in a can or jar.
Immediately I got up and rushed downstairs to check on the small patient. She was awake now but remained still.
"Good morning!" I greeted while looking at her, wondering if she knew I'd checked on her several times during the night.
The mysterious little creature just glanced at me and then looked away with obvious disinterest. I moved away just long enough to unlock and open the inside backdoor to allow those fresh cool morning breezes to waft in through the wood-frame screen door. With my left foot I slid the green glass insulator against the inside door to hold it open. I kept that insulator near just for this purpose.
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Carefully looking over the patient through the glassed front of the container she was ensconced within, I examined as best I could the bandage that had been wrapped around her and the wound after surgery. No sign of oozing or bleeding. Better too, she hadn't disturbed the dressing or pulled it off as I expected she would try to do.
"I'm glad to see you didn't remove that bandage." I acknowledged aloud and then added, "The vet said it needs to stay there at least until we go back for your follow-up visit in a few days."
Perhaps bothered by the lack of privacy from my almost constant peering in at her, she coiled up in a back corner, then with her tiny hands moved the wayward strands of her hair off her face and then warily watched me. Her facial expression revealed no emotion whatsoever.
"Yesterday Dr. Tse asked me if I had a name for you. I didn't even think about that when we went there." continuing my talk with her.
She didn't respond at all to anything I said.
Going ahead with what I usually did in starting my mornings, I went to the sink, opened the tap to let water run cold, removed the basket and stem from inside the coffee percolator, filled it up to the right marking with cold water, measured out the usual amount of Folgers, dumped the small load of grounds into the basket, returned the readied apparatus back inside, placed the percolator on the right front stove element and then turned it on. I plunked an empty mug on the counter top next to the stove. In about fifteen minutes I would turn off the stove, wait a couple more minutes for the bubbling to subside and then pour the brew.
Nobody I know ever made coffee using a stainless steel percolator, or any percolator for that matter. A few don't even know what a percolator is. Anyway, I've always liked my coffee made this old-fashioned way; boiled and unstrained by a paper filter.
