Trouble comes in three

Okay, here's my latest, and possibly second-to-last, animal story for awhile. Oh, it's okay, don't cry! I can always think of some from years ago--wipe your tears this is a good one!

This afternoon started like so many before it--a sunny, not too hot day (freakish for the south--don't believe me see Kim K's post about the weather--there was a post, right? If not, Kim I thought of one for ya!), perfect for playing outside. We'd spent a great deal of time outdoors and had decided to come in for some playroom time--not me silly, my kids--and to answer that most difficult of questions (what's for dinner?). I remember hearing my sweet kitty playing around downstairs and knowing full well he'd brought some dead creature in to play with. Venturing downstairs I told the kids "mousey patrol" which means watch where you're stepping. Immediately I saw Scout behind "the other woman" (my husband's 61" rear-projection tv), desperately using his clawless paws in order to gain access to something lost. My initial reaction was "gross, now I have to clean dead mouse juice off wires." Alas this was not to be, for it was neither dead, nor a mouse!

I could just see an eyeball, and good deal of fur, so I at once called my friend Kim, and yelled for my son to bring a flashlight (which happened to be an elephant shaped one that "bree's" whenever you turn it on). What I first thought was a mouse soon became a baby rabbit (which I nearly picked up). Then I had Graham get me some leather gloves (aren't 5 year old boys great, they're so willing to do whatever we ask, except cleaning up their toys or wearing matching clothes), and barbecue tongs. I told Kim there was something (still wishing to believe it was a cute little bunny) hiding behind that tv beneath a great deal of wires. Her reaction was something like "here we go again". Skip to the part where "bunny" starts to move, I realize it doesn't have long, soft ears, nor does it have a cottony tail. This little rabbit very quickly turns into, you guessed it, A RAT!! My adorable hunting kitty has brought a RAT into my home! This is no ordinary rat, it's complete with fear in its eyes and puncture wounds in it's sides. So now I have to call my husband (who is at least 18 minutes away), and get him home, cause there's no way in God's green earth I am dealing with an injured RAT on my own!

Skip to the part where Steve gets home (did I mention he had the flu and his lower back was giving him fits?). With leather gloves and barbecue tongs in hand he releases said RAT into our house. Not on purpose of course, it's just that barbecue tongs don't work all that well in catching injured RATS! So, what did I do? Scream like a sissy and leave my young children to fend for themselves--no lie, I ran upstairs! That RAT ran across the floor with my sick husband chasing it with tongs, all while I was screaming, Tait was crying and Graham, well he was just trying to get out of the way! My husband cornered it and then opened the front door and the RAT got outside where he just stopped moving for at least five minutes. where I was able to snap a photo, and scare some more crap out of it--yes, it pooed on my floor. Oh happy days!