Friday, August 12, 2011


My friend "d" sent this update on THE RAT PACK.

So, after the last rat story, the numbers have increased substantially. We had to go to extremes to remedy the problem. The rat poison is working. We placed the pellets in the front yard far away from inquisitive canines. They are dropping like flies (the rats of course) which is a good thing for health and safety reasons, but why they have to die in our backyard is beyond me. I am not talking about cute little pet rat types. Theses are Tree Rats the size of a small cat with verrrrry long tails and small beady eyes. I am thinking it must be some sort of karmic punishment for taking a life. Consistent with the lack of bravery Cooper, Savannah, and Jackson have shown, little Ollie is the first one in the bushes hunting the fresh kill. At least he has refrained from prancing around with them in his mouth and just sounds the barking alert. Well, last week, I was getting ready for work. I was just finishing up my shower when I heard Ollie frenetically barking in the bedroom. That is not so unusual as he is typically very playful at that time of day and egging Savannah on with some sort of game. So I poked my head out to see why he was escalating. Then I saw Ollie on his haunches with his butt high in the air, nose to the ground. Jackson, Savannah, and Cooper, who never climbs the stairs with his bad hips, were there too just starring under the bed. I took a closer look....mind you it is dark under the bed at 6:30 AM. I saw one of their toys and went to pick it up to stop all the commotion. It was wet and slimy. I drew my hand back quickly and took a closer look. IT WAS NOT A TOY!!!!! It was a very dead rat. And, I touched it, ewwwe. I let out a blood curdling scream, cause I hate rats. Bruce came running up the stairs thinking the worst. Of course he disposed of the thing immediately chuckling quietly as he excited the room. I failed to see any humor in it all. It has been a week now, and I have not let Ollie lick me on the face even once. I now associate his sloppy puppy kisses with rodent slime. I have been truly traumatized. Hmmm, I wonder if that equates to a Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Early retirement perhaps, or better yet a few weeks' vacation in an all inclusive Cancun resort I'm sure would do the trick. I might even consider a wet kiss on the face from our rogue Cavalier.

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