Imagine a house that is a jumble of boxes....floor to ceiling...awaiting a phone call to say "The contract is clear...you can finally move house!!!"
Imagine a cat. Slightly daft, pretty darn big but with little brain.
So...it's a couple of days from my birthday (hooray!) and Miew, my little prince of a cat (who takes up a whole double bed), decides to give me a present.
Now Miew looks like a cat, tries to do cat stuff, but is never quite as good as the balancing and chasing and catching as he is at the sleeping.
My present. A baby rat. Miew has caught it, and brought it into me. Then dropped it for me. But unlike a normal cat, this gift rat is alive. Very much so. Not even a bite mark.
It ran under all those stacked crates and bags...bugger.
A good hour later, with several misses, the rat is rounded up. I have my air pistol at the ready, as every time we almost get it within grabbing distance, it runs off. I don't want a rat in the house and I don't want to kill it - so it would be my last choice getting it cornered and shooting it, then moving everything out of the way and dispose of it.
Luckily I finally corner it (third attempt and the room is a wreck).
I put down a long cardboard tube with a folded up end, and Chris scares the rat so it runs towards and into the tube. I grab the open end of the tube and fold it over. Ratty is taken outside and released over by the garden shed.
House: A total bomb site.
Me and Chris: Knackered.
Miew: Wants love and attention for bringing me such a lovely gift.
I guess the blog about how I sold my Toyota Supra 3L turbo and bought a sensible baby friendly (boring) car will have to wait....Just wait until junior asks for his/her first car and moans that I only allowed them a sensible one...I had a Supra and now I drive a Citroén Berlingo. Mind you, by then even a simple hatch back basic model will probably put out 240bhp....and run on household waste.
