Young Children and Eating Disorders

Today I was reading an article about a ten year old child who had almost died of Anorexia.  Ten years old!   To think that our society is so preoccupied with body image that preteen children could actually starve themselves to death.  The struggle this mother and father went through trying to save their child's life was heartbreaking.  The young girl, Shelia, had been in gymnastics and when she dropped out she started gaining weight - just a pound or two at first.   But that pound or two began to bother Sheila. "I'd been around all these older girls at the gym who were always saying things like 'Oh, I'm so fat,' and I started to worry that once I quit gymnastics, I would get fat, too," Sheila, now 13, remembers.

Over the next six months, worry gradually turned into obsession as she cut out sweets and chips, then dairy and meat and finally everything but salad.  She began exercising excessively.  Her mom felt there was a problem when she began to drop weight, but a wellness checkup showed that she was still within her normal weight range and was beginning to show early signs of puberty - signs that a pediatrician would normally see in a girl her age.  The pediatrician explained to her about the importance of eating from all the food groups and Shelia said she understood.

But she continued losing weight.  A rush trip to the doctor revealed that Sheila had lost 17 pounds -- almost a quarter of her body weight -- in the six weeks since her well-child visit. Her body temperature was only 94 degrees, her heart rate was low and she was severely dehydrated. With hospitalization and psychiatric help, this child finally overcame the illness but not without consequences.  Anorexia in a child this age can permanently affect their development and can often damage vital organs even when the eating disorder is eventually successfully treated.

This story struck a sympathetic chord with me.  Our family suffered a terrible loss almost twenty years ago when our eighteen year old niece died of complications of Anorexia two weeks before she would have graduated from high school.  Our lives are full of "what if's".  What if we had not complimented her on her weight loss when she started losing weight after years of being slightly overweight?  What if there had been earlier intervention?  The world of internet and social media has brought more attention to this disease and people are more aware of it now than twenty years ago.  They know what to look for.  Here is a link to some of the early warning signs of eating disorders:

 How can I tell if my child might have an eating disorder?
Look for these behaviors, signs and symptoms:

• Eating tiny portions or refusing to eat
• Intense fear of being fat
• Distorted body image
• Strenuous exercising (for more than an hour)
• Hoarding and hiding food
• Eating in secret
• Disappearing after eating—often to the bathroom
• Large changes in weight, both up and down
• Social withdrawal
• Depression
• Irritability
• Hiding weight loss by wearing bulky clothes
• Little concern over extreme weight loss 
• Obsessive reading food labels for calorie/fat content of food. 
• Stomach cramps
• Menstrual irregularities—missing periods
• Dizziness
• Feeling cold all the time
• Sleep problems
• Cuts and calluses across the top of finger joints (from sticking finger down throat to cause vomiting)
• Dry skin
• Puffy face
• Fine hair on body
• Thinning of hair on head, dry and brittle hair
• Cavities, or discoloration of teeth, from vomiting
• Muscle weakness
• Yellow skin
• Cold, mottled hands and feet or swelling of feet

If your child has some of these signs, you should bring them to the doctor right away.  Your doctor can rule out diseases that can appear to be eating disorders.  If an eating disorder is not treated, it can become life threatening.

 We can set examples for healthy eating.   Experts recommend teaching by doing. Stay away from using food as a punishment or reward - this sets up an unhealthy relationship with food.  Also, don't label foods as "good foods" or "bad foods" since this might lead to bingeing.

Children observe and follow us.  Parents should set an example and be careful not to obsess over food or their own weight in front of their children.

But at the end of the day, it is not the fault of the parent if a child has an eating disorder.  Anorexia and bulimia are serious mental disorders and as with all mental illnesses should be treated by professionals.

When I read this, I thought of my own ten year old granddaughter and her healthy little developing body.  We take our children's health for granted.  I feel the pain and heartbreak of mothers dealing with their child's illnesses of any kind, but one that seems that it should be so easy to fix - one where you think just eating normal amounts of food would cure it!  But it doesn't work that way, does it?  But it is an illness that can be fixed, - early intervention helps.

Homemade Classic-Cinnabons / Cinnamon Rolls Recipe

When I saw this recipe posted on Shine-Yahoo, my mouth started watering and my tummy started growling!  Isn't it amazing the signals sent to our brains by images of yummy food?

When I pass by Cinnabons in our local shopping mall, the aroma of the fresh baked cinnamon rolls beckon me to the counter.  They're almost irresistible.  I say "almost" because the price tag of close to $4 for one roll makes it a little easier to pass it by.

I haven't tried the recipe yet, but when I saw 442 calories per serving versus Cinnabon's 880 calories and 6 grams of fat versus Cinnabon's 36, I'm all for giving it a try. Devin Alexander, author of Fast Food Fix and the Biggest Loser series of cookbooks developed this recipe. She says:

"My version of the Cinnabon has also become the recipe in the book [Fast Food Fix] that I've used to prove to skeptics that, in fact, these [fast- food] recipes can be duplicated to satisfy cravings with a fraction of the fat and calories of their original counterparts. Though I believe many of the [other] recipes [in the book] truly duel the originals, this one happens to travel much better than many since it doesn't need to be hot. The rolls are just fine if they sit at room temperature for several hours."

Here's the recipe for those of you who may want to indulge in a lower calorie version of the Cinnabon.

Cinnabon Classic Cinnamon Roll Recipe
- Devin Alexander, Fast Food Fix

INGREDIENTS
For the frosting:
•1 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar
•3 tablespoons reduced-fat Neufchâtel
•3 tablespoons light butter from a stick, softened
•1/2 tablespoon fat-free milk
•1 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the buns:
•Butter-flavored cooking spray
•2 tablespoons light butter from a stick
•1 cup fat-free milk
•1/3 cup granulated sugar
•1/4 cup artificially sweetened fat-free vanilla yogurt
•1 egg
•1 egg white
•One 1/4-ounce packet active dry yeast
•4 cups unbleached flour, plus more as needed
•1 teaspoon plus 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
•1/2 teaspoon salt
•3 tablespoons corn syrup
•3 tablespoons packed brown sugar
•1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

DIRECTIONS
For the frosting:
In a mixing bowl, combine the sugar, Neufchâtel, butter, milk, and vanilla extract. Mix on low speed with an electric mixer fitted with beaters or stir with a spoon until combined, about 1 minute. If using a mixer, increase the speed to high.

Beat or stir vigorously until smooth, about 30 seconds. Allow the frosting to set for at least 10 minutes. Place in an airtight plastic container. Refrigerate for up to 3 days. Just before using, stir well with a spoon.

For the buns:
Lightly mist a large bowl with cooking spray. Set aside 1 tablespoon of the butter to soften.

In a large microwavable measuring cup or a medium-sized microwavable bowl, combine the milk, granulated sugar, and the remaining butter. Microwave on high power until the milk is hot (130 degrees), 2 minutes.

Add the yogurt. Whisk until the sugar dissolves (some small lumps of yogurt may be visible). Add the egg and egg white. Whisk to beat well. Add the yeast. Whisk until dissolved.

In the bowl of an electric stand mixer fitted with the dough hook or in a large mixing bowl, combine 2 cups of the flour, 1 teaspoon of the cinnamon, and the salt.

Mix or stir by hand with a wooden spoon to blend. Add the milk mixture. Mix on medium power or stir vigorously to blend. (The mixture will be very sticky.) Add the remaining flour, mixing or stirring until absorbed.

Lightly flour a work surface. Turn the dough onto the work surface. (A plastic dough scraper or brittle plastic spatula is helpful for getting out all of the dough and starting the kneading.)

Knead until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. Add scant amounts of flour as needed. (The dough should be soft but not sticky.) Place in the reserved bowl. Lightly mist with cooking spray. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap. Allow to rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine the corn syrup, brown sugar, the remaining cinnamon, and the vanilla extract. Stir to blend well. Set aside.

When the dough has doubled in size, gently punch it down and place it on the lightly floured surface. Knead for about 1 minute. Dust lightly with flour. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes.

Lightly mist an 11-by-7-inch nonstick baking dish with cooking spray. Set aside. Using your hands or a floured rolling pin, press or roll the dough into an 18-by-12-inch rectangle.

With a butter knife, evenly spread the softened butter over the dough. Drizzle on the filling. With a knife or spatula, spread it evenly to the edges. Starting at one shorter side, roll the dough, jelly-roll fashion, into a tube, ending seam side down. Cut into 8 equal pieces. Place, spiral side up, in the reserved dish.

Cover the dish with a damp kitchen towel and place in a warm spot. Let the rolls rise for another 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Bake until very lightly browned but slightly doughy in the center, 22-28 minutes. With a spatula, transfer 1 roll to a plate. Using a butter knife, spread 1 ½ tablespoons of frosting over the top and ½ tablespoon down the sides. Repeat with the other 7 rolls.

SERVING SIZE
Makes 8 cinnamon buns

The Tithing Jar - A lesson learned

Image borrowed from http://www.goddessgab.com/

Its importance was obvious as it commanded its own shelf – the top shelf of a little corner unit built on the backside of the kitchen cabinet facing the family room.  Its size seemed to change with the seasons – the quart size during the growing season and a smaller pint size during the winter months.  I suppose Mom didn’t want the quart size’s contents to look so meager during the leaner months of the year.   It was the tithing jar and it held the Lord’s portion of the money earned by the hard work, sweat, and tears from our family’s small farm during my growing up years.

  

The life of a farmer had its ups and downs during the 1950’s and ‘60’s just as it does now.  A good year was when the weather cooperated.  A cold snap in late Spring could kill off tender crops that would have to be replanted.  Too much rain could delay planting – not enough rain would reduce the harvest.  It was a fickle life the farmer led, controlled by nature, hard work and prayers. It was always a gamble, much like a poker game -- the difference between a royal flush and two of a kind.   The twelve-month calendars would stack up with dates and dollar amounts entered and labeled good years and bad years.  But the tithing jar was a constant in our lives and there was always something in it.

The tithing jar was a visual aid for us children.  It was a learning tool that my parents used to convey what mere words could not.  The sale of produce was carefully counted on the kitchen table and exactly one-tenth went into the jar.  When the cotton crop was tallied up at the end of the season, the jar held tens and twenties instead of ones, fives and loose change.  Mom’s check from working in a department store was cashed and its share went into the jar.  On Sunday mornings, the contents were removed from the jar, put in a white envelope and placed in the offering plate at church.  Mother handled this money reverently because after all, it was the portion that belonged to God.

The image of the jar on the shelf has stayed with me all of my life.  It is a gentle reminder that all we have is the Lord’s.  He asks only for a small portion in return.  A dollar earned, a dime in the jar – it was as simple as that.   The tithing jar -  I never saw it being filled begrudgingly - it was filled with gratitude.  And for that lesson learned, I am grateful.

Hiding Places in Old Spaces

I went round the yard today with the intent of trying to capture on camera a bright yellow butterfly that kept drinking the nectar from my bright red hibiscus blooms.  He was also flitting around the last of the summer lilies.  In the process, I saw interesting little oddities that I call "hiding places".  Old homeplaces seem to have lots of hiding places and spaces.  I'll take you on a picture tour:

This rusty old hand water pump has been hidden itself until we recently cleaned out some old shrubs that had taken over.  The pump was once a hiding place too - it hid our spare house key - but now it only hides a rogue spider or two.

 This mushroom that's a product of our recent wet weather hides bugs from the chickens and could also be a hiding place for little fairies that live in the moss.  Don't fairies live under mushrooms?

 This old knot hole in the tree is a hiding place for little squirrels.  I've seen them scamper in and out.

 This red bloom is the hiding place of the pretty yellow butterfly that's perched upon it. It's interesting how the color of the leaves camouflage the butterfly.

 This was once a majestic black walnut tree.  It finally died and we haven't cut it down because we promised someone the wood to make beautiful things with.  I hope they cut it down soon as it is near our house.  It hides insects that the woodpeckers love to devour.

 Another old tree that we recently lost is ready for the ax but meanwhile it's nooks and crannies hide Theo sometimes as he's stalking the birds.

The last of the summer garden!  The vines hide one of the last tomatoes.

 This old tiling normally hides the bottom of my summer flower baskets filled with wave petunias which spill over it's sides.  This time of year the baskets begin to die away - but it's waiting to hold next years flowers.

 These century old bricks that we've dug up around the place camouflage this old metal duck decoy quite well, don't you think.  Look how the colors blend.

 This old flower pot was hiding many, many ants when I turned it over this afternoon.  Now, they'll have to hide elsewhere.

 This old ivy covered fence hides our neighbors house.

 This overgrown ivy hides an old rusty lantern.

 This "secret garden" has hidden cardinals, brown thrush and best of all the grandchildren as we've played games over the years.  This is the place that prompted me to write "The Secret Garden" that you can find at this older post.

 The fork in the tree hides whatever finds it way there.

 The mossy ground hides old bricks that over time find their way to the surface. We've dug hundreds of them up as we've cultivated new flower beds and gardens.  The brick factory in town must have given the whole neighborhood free bricks back in its heyday. 

 This very, very old tree hides many squirrel nests that are only obvious in the winter months when the leaves are gone.  It also hides the sky and provides a beautiful shelter from the sun.

 The old remnants of a flower pot hid a seedling until it burst forth looking for the sun.

 We call this the "whale" house.  It hides the well pump that once generated the water for the house until the county ran water lines through our area.  When our granddaughter Chloe was a tiny thing, she had heard us call it the well house.  One day she asked if I could open it up so she could see the whale that lived inside.  I suppose she thought a baby whale lived in the little one.  I really don't know what the little one hides since I have never opened it up to look.  Maybe spiders and snakes?  That's why I haven't opened it.

 Another hole in a tree hides lizards and squirrels I suppose.

This birdbath is not frequented very often by birds as it's Theo's favorite hiding place to wait for them.  He also likes to drink from it.

 This weedy patch hides a watermelon that sprouted from a half eaten watermelon this summer.  A huge vine grew and there's four large melons almost ready to eat. 

This old building hides the garden tools inside and sports some oldies on the outside.

This old bird cage hides a hummingbird plant that grows through it and a stray lizard or two.

It's amazing what you see when you get the camera out.  And just think - all these were hiding from me until I went looking. 

My Summer of 1965

In the Spring of 1965, based on a letter I had submitted during a contest telling why I would like to be a Summer youth delegate to the United Nations, I was informed that  my entry had been selected.   As luck would have it, a friend from church had applied and her entry was also selected .   We were the only delegates selected who knew each other prior to trip.  Early on the morning of June 7^th,, we were picked up in Charlotte by the bus that had picked up youth in all major cities from the South.   Kids continued boarding the bus as we traveled towards New York City.  There were 26 of us plus chaperones when we checked into Times Square Hotel that evening.  We were one excited group of kids.  When all the others got in from other parts of the United States there were a total of sixty-one.  We all ranged between the ages of sixteen and nineteen.  I was not quite seventeen.  In addition to our UN involvement, we also had the prospect of visiting the 1965 New York City World’s Fair.  This little farm girl was on cloud nine.

Over the next few days we attended the summer peacekeeping sessions.  I wish I could tell you that the meetings we attended were full of excitement  and that we learned a lot, but truthfully the trip was not as well organized as it should have been - and most of the meetings were rather long and boring.  We could sit in on the sessions, but there was very little acknowledgement that we were there and there was not much in the way of explanation at the end of the day by the coordinators.  In only one of the sessions – the last one - were we encouraged to ask questions and comment - and I was, and still am proud of the sincerity and interest that we expressed that day.  We were having our say - and we were saying it loud and clear.

Later that year, a Resolution was adopted by the United Nations General Assembly.  It was Resolution number 2037 (XX) – “ Declaration on the Promotion Among Youth of the Ideals of Peace, Mutual Respect and Understanding Between Peoples”.  I've often wondered if our little peacekeeping pilot program was instrumental in the making of that resolution.

   

You can see the resolution at this link.    Excerpts of this resolution include the following paragraphs:

“Young people shall be brought up in the spirit of peace, justice, freedom, mutual respect and understanding in order to promote equal rights for all human beings and all nations, economic and social progress, disarmament and the maintenance of international peace and security.


 Young people shall be brought up in the knowledge of the dignity and equality of all men, without distinction as to race, colour, ethnic origins or beliefs, and in respect for fundamental human rights and for the right of peoples to self-determination. 

 

Young people must become conscious of their responsibilities in the world they will be called upon to manage and should be inspired with confidence in a future of happiness for mankind.”

This resolution seems to have been seen through a crystal ball.  The young people of 1965 are now those of us approaching our retirement years.    We have lived up to the words of the resolution.   We have been and still  are instrumental in promoting equal rights for all human beings and all nations.  We have seen much economic and social progress and have always been concerned about international peace and security.  We have fought for the equality of all men.  No other young people throughout history have been more conscious of our responsibilities in the world and we have been called upon and met the challenge of managing and inspiring confidence in a future of happiness for mankind.

The summer of 1965 will be etched in my mind as long as I live.  We were typical teenagers and did what typical teenagers do – we roamed the streets of New York City after our chaperones were asleep – even taking the subway to Coney Island in the middle of the night.  I’m not overly proud of breaking the rules, but would break them again just to experience all that we experienced that summer. 

Our New York City trip was followed by a few days in Washington, DC where we saw the sights and also were allowed to sit in on some congressional meetings.  Roaming the halls of Congress - we were a spunky lot.   We were teens during the tumultuous years of the 1960's.  I'm sure our parents did have their moments when they wondered if we would ever grow up.  I, like others of that time period,  had just enough rebel in me to create a little havoc, but enough self respect to not let it carry me away.  Sometimes I think it takes that kind of spunky mixture to fuel the flames of the future.

 I don’t think I fully realized until later in life how much of an impression this trip made on me.  It fueled my interest in peacekeeping and social justice and instilled in me a confidence that we can make a difference.  Seeds were planted that week and I've often wondered what the others in our group brought back home with them.  Are any of our group of kids in the Capitol Building now as lawmakers?  If they are, I'm hoping they're using the same fire and imagination that we had that Summer - the Summer of '65.

 

Look! Up in the sky...it's a bird... it's a plane...it's Super---?

Last night, our dog Fox woke us up several times with his incessant barking. We know his barks, just as you would know what is wrong with a child by his whimpering or his tone of voice.   It was not the "Beware, strange person around" bark - it was more of a "something's invading my territory" bark.  So other than being annoyed, we were not too concerned and tried to sleep through it.  After a while, hubby got up and turned the porch light on and he stopped barking.  He just wanted us to know that there was a little something out of the ordinary going on.

This morning when we stepped out the door, Fox started back up again.  He was barking up a tree - not a "wrong tree", mind you - just a tree in our yard.  We looked up and this is what we saw:

 

If you'll enlarge the photo, you'll see that one raccoon has his arm around the other.  They were kits - Mama Raccoon was most likely nearby.  Baby raccoons (kits) are totally dependant on their mother until the age of about 16 weeks - then they start wandering around on their own and usually become pretty independent at about 9 months.  These looked to be about four or five months old.  A mother raccoon can have up to eight babies at a time but usually only has between three and five.

 

Fox was ever vigilant - just daring them to come down.



Oops, Fox fell down on the job.  I walked back out a little later and both raccoons were almost down the tree.  Fox saw them and made sure they scooted back up.

 Hang on baby!  This old tree was a hard one to climb.  He kept slipping backwards a little, but hung on for dear life and slowly made progress.

"Maybe if I hold my ears just so, I'll navigate a little faster".

 

 

Fox was very proud of himself.  Well done, old boy!  Maybe we'll start taking you 'coon huntin'!

 

Fox is a Finnish Spitz breed.  As you can see, he looks like a fox, so his name fits!  He's the most wonderful dog we've ever owned.   Read below if you want to know a little more about this breed.

 

  Here's an excerpt from the American Kennel Club Website.

 

Resembling a red fox, the Finnish Spitz is a northern breed with erect ears, a dense double coat and a plumed bushy tail. He is a lively animal, with a keen, intelligent expression and brisk, quick movement. Medium-sized, the Finnish Spitz comes across as an agile, workmanlike dog with no exaggerated or showy features except for his lustrous golden-red coat, which ranges from pale honey to deep auburn.

And from Puppydogweb.com

Description: The Finnish Spitz, or Finsk Spets, is the national dog of Finland. They are an independent, reserved, cautious and sometimes aloof breed. This does not, however, overshadow their friendly and loyal nature towards their family. As they were bred to be hunters, they need to be kept in a secure fenced yard or else they may go off on a hunting expedition. Finnish Spitzes are sensitive and strong minded, but also loyal to their human family. They especially love being with children. They are intelligent, sturdy, and easy to care for. They have often been described as "catlike" in cleanliness. They have a happy temperament, and are still used today for hunting in Finland. Finnish Spitz have been described as showing "devotion and self-sacrificing faithfulness." They are said to be courageous and selfless, but at the same time demand reward at a job well done. They do very well under poor circumstances with their owner, but alone in a kennel they become depressed and unhealthy. Finnish Spitz are largely used for hunting birds, especially the capercaillie, a large bird of Finland. They are a small to medium sized dog, making up for size with their loud bark. They are reddish brown and gold in color, and have prick ears that are a trademark of the Spitz. Their tails curl over their backs, touching the outer thigh of one side. A favorite hunting dog of the Finns, the Finnish Spitz is very popular as a companion in other countries.

Angel - the Elusive Rat... and Dyson, the good guy.

My granddaughter has been wanting a rat...yes I said a rat...for over two years now.  She's ten years old and ten year olds think rats are cool.  Having icky thoughts about rats, my daughter told her she could have a hamster instead so off they went to the pet shop on Monday.  She tried to hold the hamsterss, but they were all little biters.  The pet shop owner told her she would have to wear gloves for about a month or so while she handled it in order to train it not to bite.  "He bites? I don't want him", she said.  "Then you need a rat".  Pet store employees can be so annoying, can't they?  Gen's eyes lit up because that's what she wanted all along.  "Oh, OK" said mom and home they went with a 3 week old rat and all the accessories that said Pet store employee could talk them in to buying.  They named her Angel - a name my daughter has changed several times since Monday.  The last name I heard her call Angel was this afternoon.  #$*#@~*# is what I think she said.  Maybe I heard wrong though, I don't think she uses words like that.

Angel was the perfect little Angel when they got her home.  She crawled in and out of Chloe and Gen's hands - Gen even put Angel on her shoulder and she crawled up under her hair.  It made me cringe.  Angel even proved to be very photogenic.  See....

Now for the rest of the story...

The deal was that Angel could only stay in Gen's room, but seeing how sweet she was, Mom gave in a little and allowed Gen to bring her downstairs to socialize.  Since she handled that so well, Gen asked if she could take Angel into the bathroom and close off all the doors so she could have a little more freedom.  Sure, why not?  Little did they know that there was a tiny hole underneath the sink cabinet between the cabinet and the wall.  The hole was hidden well - but guess who found it?  I knew you would guess.

This was Monday night.  Today is Wednesday and Angel was still in hiding.  They would put food on the floor and Angel would run out and get it but was back so quick they couldn't catch her.  She teased them like this for two days.   The hole was too tiny to put much of anything other than a straw with peanut butter on the end - barely an inch square.  Angel would follow it to the edge of the hole but wouldn't come back out.  They even devised a little makeshift trap out of a plastic container that had peanut butter in the center and was held up by a pencil.  They put it on the floor outside the hole in the cabinet.  It was so unstable that if you barely touched it, it would fall down.  Angel managed to go into it, lick the peanut butter off the pencil and get out without missing a beat.  Did I say that rats are smart?

Gen was distraught and Mom was at her wits end.  As a last straw they called Grandpa.  Off we went with a handsaw blade to try to cut the hole a little bigger.  The hole was in an odd position near the floor, so Mom had to do the tedious job.  It worked - it was now about 2 inches square which was as big as it could get.  Angel was living in a 2" wide by 2" high space that ran against the wall on the floor from the front of the cabinet to the back - and she was staying just beyond Gen's arm reach.  Golf clubs, back scratchers, kitchen utinsels, sticky tape on a long stick - nothing worked.  This is when I think I heard my daughter muttering Angel's new name under her breath.  Then she walked out of the room to turn down the thermostat.  It was getting hot in there - after all, there were five of us in the bathroom trying to save Angel.

Krista walked back in and we all gasped.  She had gone after the "big guns".

~Here he comes to save the day~  The Dyson Vacuum.  Oh my!  These things are powerful bad boys.  Would Angel be bald from the suction.....or worse?   I could just imagine her sucked up into the vacuum somewhere and us not being able to get her out.  Or it sucking all the breath out of her little nose.  By this time, I don't think Krista cared - not even a whit.  "Stand back", she said, brandishing the hose as if it were an AK-47.  She loaded it with a little brush attachment and put it as far back in the hole as possible.  I was in charge of pushing the button.  Button pushed, hose pulled out - nothing.  "Let's do it again", she said.  She was enjoying this way too much.  Hose inserted, button pushed, hose retrieved.  Angel's little body was on the end with her legs just a kickin'.  Bingo!  "Close the hole", Krista shouted as I pushed the button off.  Gen was quick on the draw.  Hole closed.  Angel caught.  Back in cage.  No worse for wear.  Whew! 

If it were my rat - which is like saying if it were my million dollars which I won't ever have either, I would put old Dyson right beside Angel's cage for a few days just to show her who's boss.  And if she's not overly traumatized by being sucked out of a hole, maybe she'll start living up to her name.  I, for one, prefer Angel to the new one muttered under someone's breath.

Did I say rats are smart?