So I arrive home, all is well. It's a
nice day, the birds are singing (at least in my head). I go inside,
put my things down, kick off my shoes, and head down the hallway when
I look down and SHAZAM!! right in the middle of my good rug (like the
only one that isn't from Wal-Mart) is...a small, very dead rodent!
Apparently amidst the pier and beams of
my old, but not old enough to be ultra-cool-or-cosmopolitan house are
some open places where small, furry creatures can gain access.
Unfortunately for this one, now lying at my feet, the cats were
inside as opposed to being outside tormenting the neighbors' dog:
“Hey Annie, Woof Woof, I'm thinking
of climbing the fence, ha ha - NOT!”
“Annie, let us throw the ball! Oops
look behind you, it's the postman!bahahaha”
Cats are like that; you know. I'm just
grateful that it was: 1) completely dead and 2) no body parts were
bitten off. So as it stands now, Cats = 1; Rodents = Zip.
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