Tuesday, September 22, 2009
I called John at lunch today and he said the trailer was a madhouse. That he thought he'd heard something on the roof and when he opened the door, Ernie ran inside carrying a chipmunk in his mouth. A live chipmunk. Ernie dropped the chipmunk in the middle of the living room floor and John said that's right about the time all hell broke loose. I said, "John, where's the chipmunk now?". And he said, "Oh, it lives behind the treadmill." Not really though. It managed to find it's way back outside with three tail-switching cats in hot pursuit. Used to be I felt sorry for the critters and would try my damnedest to save them, but I've freed one too many of their sorry asses only to watch them scurry straight into the waiting jaws of my boys. It's like they can't help themselves.
Posted by Janet Scronce at 6:48 PM