The B.A.R. (Big A** Rat)

Last night, while laying on my throne in front of the firebox thingy, I heard from the hall a great commotion. Given the fact that all of my fellow feline types, who are generally the cause of such ruckuses, were napping in the living room, my curiosity was aroused.

The two leggers and I went into the hallway to investigate. Opening the closet door, my male two legger jumped back and immediately shut the door. Curious behavior, even for one as odd as he. He then proceeded to turn and lecture me.

It would seem that a mouse thingy had taken up residence in the aforementioned closet. The male two legger is under the mistaken impression that it is my "job" to rid this household of all such pests.

While I will admit to enjoying the torture and humiliation of all small creatures that enter my domain, (mouse thingies, bugs, infant two leggers and "tea cup" poodles to name a few) I have never considered it to be my "job". It is more of a hobby or pleasant pastime. To call my love of causing pain and terror a "job" somehow tarnishes it and makes it seem lowly and somewhat seedy.

However, I endured his rant while giving him my best "Do you honestly believe I give a clump?" look. After he vented his ire, he and the female retired to my bedroom for the evening. I decided a nap was in order and returned to my throne.

But alas, the seed was planted and I felt that I would at least take a peek at the offending vermin. The closet door was slightly ajar and I could hear the mousie thingy poking around within. Stealthily I crept to the door and peered into the closet. What I beheld defies description.

This was no tiny little squeaky, nose twitching, flea bitten plaything.

This was a gigantic, monstrous, mutant RAT. The type one sees on the talking box thingy attacking Tokyo. The type that one finds in the desert after nuclear testing. It had red eyes, a long hairless tail and if it were to speak, I have no doubts that it would have a Romanian accent.

I promptly decided that since I had claimed the last mousie thingy for myself, perhaps I would allow Ivan the honor and fun of killing this one.

I called him over and told him that behind this door was a mousie thingy that I was giving to him in reward for his years of faithful minionship. Ivan graciously accepted and entered the closet.

Ivan does not know the meaning of the word "fear". Well, Ivan does not know the meaning of most words. However, Ivan exited the closet rather quickly and apparently decided that a visit to the litterbox was in order.

Reluctantly, I offered Tiger Lily the honor of dispatching the closet critter. She sensed something wrong and commenced to whining, attracting the attention of the two leggers.

Finally, in an act of exasperation, the male two legger got out his handy dandy Ratzapper 2000 and after baiting it with peanut butter, placed it in the closet.

An hour later I heard a zzzzzzzzt sound followed by the smell of singed fur. The rodent was no more. The male came and retrieved the corpse all the while muttering about "useless cats".

I know not to which cats he refers, but if I meet them, I'll let them know his opinion of them.