Bedlam
Well-Known Member
So...I've been drinking this evening, so allow me to give you the short story.
Husband is on travel and has been gone for 2 weeks. Husband's cat (which he had long before he met me) is a handsome devil, but not real responsible or good at persistant follow-through. Case in point is tonight. I opened the door to let him in. Some storms are coming, so it's kind dark out. Mighty dark out, matter o' fact.
Therefore, it was only as he passed under the floor lamp that I caught the subtle shading at his mouth that signaled potential trouble.
"Max," I said, "that mouse had BETTER be DE...." Could not finish statement as rodent was dropped from cat's mandibles to scramble underneath my desk.
Eeek.
Before you judge me, know that my rodent phobia is an isolated characteristic. Had this been a snake, gator or polar bear, I'd be all cool with it. Could've managed it just admirably on my very own. Being that it consists of a small, scurrying, disease-riddled, chewing furry thing, forget it.
Of course, I immediately call El Hubbo to let him know that he has a little job to do come tomorrow. "Dear? Your cat. Mouse. Alive. In house. Your problem as of tomorrow. This includes hunting live mouse or disposal of mouse parts. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am." (El Hubbo knows how to keep the peace in the household and thereby increasing his chances of fantastic sexual favors over the weekend. He understands on which side the bread is buttered, so to speak. For this, among many reasons, I love him. He is also a reasonable man, and understands that it was HIS fat-ass, lazy cat who caused the problem to begin with.)
My solution was to let the dogs in. Of our many pets, only our 110 lb lab, Goodman, gives me faith in this situation. He is an avid rodent-hunter. When romping in the fields behind the house, he will catch a scent and stay with it for up to two hours to snag his prey. But then he mostly just wants to trot home with it, to show it to his alpha. Which happens to be, guess who....ME! Now, Otto (a boxer) has a bad case of doggie ADHD and won't hunt much, but he's killer at being, well, a killer. Basically, he just likes to eat stuff. I am reasonably comforted in knowing if the other animals flush out vagrant mouse, he'll finish it off and burp contentedly.
So I've released the hounds, who are very happy to be in the living room as the thunder and lightening approach. Two dogs, three cats in the living room...I expect some results. I mean, I've got some varied talents here. Sure, everybody's kind of snoring right now, but just let that little MF'er make some move later on, when the house is quiet....ha! Say your prayers, you little plague-carrying bastard!
Right?
Husband is on travel and has been gone for 2 weeks. Husband's cat (which he had long before he met me) is a handsome devil, but not real responsible or good at persistant follow-through. Case in point is tonight. I opened the door to let him in. Some storms are coming, so it's kind dark out. Mighty dark out, matter o' fact.
Therefore, it was only as he passed under the floor lamp that I caught the subtle shading at his mouth that signaled potential trouble.
"Max," I said, "that mouse had BETTER be DE...." Could not finish statement as rodent was dropped from cat's mandibles to scramble underneath my desk.
Eeek.
Before you judge me, know that my rodent phobia is an isolated characteristic. Had this been a snake, gator or polar bear, I'd be all cool with it. Could've managed it just admirably on my very own. Being that it consists of a small, scurrying, disease-riddled, chewing furry thing, forget it.
Of course, I immediately call El Hubbo to let him know that he has a little job to do come tomorrow. "Dear? Your cat. Mouse. Alive. In house. Your problem as of tomorrow. This includes hunting live mouse or disposal of mouse parts. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am." (El Hubbo knows how to keep the peace in the household and thereby increasing his chances of fantastic sexual favors over the weekend. He understands on which side the bread is buttered, so to speak. For this, among many reasons, I love him. He is also a reasonable man, and understands that it was HIS fat-ass, lazy cat who caused the problem to begin with.)
My solution was to let the dogs in. Of our many pets, only our 110 lb lab, Goodman, gives me faith in this situation. He is an avid rodent-hunter. When romping in the fields behind the house, he will catch a scent and stay with it for up to two hours to snag his prey. But then he mostly just wants to trot home with it, to show it to his alpha. Which happens to be, guess who....ME! Now, Otto (a boxer) has a bad case of doggie ADHD and won't hunt much, but he's killer at being, well, a killer. Basically, he just likes to eat stuff. I am reasonably comforted in knowing if the other animals flush out vagrant mouse, he'll finish it off and burp contentedly.
So I've released the hounds, who are very happy to be in the living room as the thunder and lightening approach. Two dogs, three cats in the living room...I expect some results. I mean, I've got some varied talents here. Sure, everybody's kind of snoring right now, but just let that little MF'er make some move later on, when the house is quiet....ha! Say your prayers, you little plague-carrying bastard!
Right?
Ever since our Shepherd died we haven't had anything deceased, or quasi-deceased brought into the house in ages. 
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