...Carpe Fookin' 'Rodens'

...Carpe Fookin' "Rodens"

Subtitled: "Punk to The Rescue"

Good Morning All;

I thought yesterday might provide me with a solitary morning of tearing my house even further apart; as Casey had remained in town Sunday Evening, not feeling well.
She had made an appointment at the clinic to see her doctor yesterday afternoon.

And so began my day of upheaval and cleaning; washing, drying, (and throwing many small "puppies" out each time I cleared out the dryer screen).

Yes, I turned over the chairs, and removed even more little balls of fur from under them. I ripped off all of the furniture throws ~to be cleaned, or tossed- (at any rate, replaced).

But I began with the entrance, knowing that Miss Millicent will be coming back inside these next few nights.
I shook the rugs, washed them, vacuumed out there, (and collected more "puppies")...

Punk does not like the vacuum, and sits on the couch, watching out the window for her rabbits to feed. And waiting for me to finish up. I have the child gate up so that Miss Milly and her baby girl do not have access to the basement or the back entrance. Too much dog food, cat food, bird seed... (Well, you get the picture).

One of the rugs in the entrance was quite beyond help, and so I headed to the basement. This, where Sputnik, (the cat) had been playing all morning. (At one point I even heard him playing with the frisbee)? True story. Guess he doesn't like the vacuum either.

As I walk down to the basement, sure enough, there is a frisbee lying in my way.

Do I bend down and pick it up?
Nope.
I am on a mission, so I simply step over it. (I also step over a somewhat frumpled up rug at the bottom of the steps).

First thought as I get to the basement is that someone, someday, somehow, MUST clean the danged litterbox out... pew!
But not me.
Not right now anyway.
I am on a mission...

Digging through my mess in the basement, I find no acceptable rugs for the landing in the entrance. (I need one there that has a rubber backing to it, or someone is going to go @ss over teakettles and kill themselves as they fly backward off the concrete steps).

AHA!
Wait!
Yes, I did just step over one slightly frumpled rug a moment ago.

I retrace my steps to check the backing on that one.
I bend over to snatch the frumpled rug up.

And I hear a very loud scream. !

Immediately, from upstairs, I hear Miss Punk yelp, (almost like someone has stepped on her paw).

WTH???

And then I hear the fast thudding and thumping of her paws over my head as she comes racing to my rescue.

MY rescue???
(Oh wait, yes, that WAS me that screamed)!

When I had picked up the rug, underneath it was either a dead, (or very comatose) mole/mouse.
(Well, WHATEVER the heck it was did NOT belong hiding under a rug, in my house)!

As you already know, I am not afraid of these varmints, just that they have a tendency to startle the bejeezus out of me.
(And when the bejeezus left me, out had come the scream)...

To which Punk had valiantly responded.

As she got to the childs gate, (that up until the varmint scream had kept her in the front entrance), she actually hurdled the darned thing- Almost completely sailing over it, turning in mid~air, and running down the steps to the basement.

With one fell swoop she was on the beast -and carried it up the steps, away from me.

(Please keep in mind that this all happened in about 6½ seconds)...

Getting myself then to the top of the steps, I found a needle nose pliers, and removed the vile thing from my saviors jaws.

The Punkster got double treats for that one!

And yes, BOTH the rug and the creature are in the dumpster.
Garbage comes tomorrow.

Here's hoping you have a rodent free day!

XOXO
Me

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Originally posted at Yahoo! 360 Tuesday February 26, 2008 - 08:33am (CST) 234