I was awakened at too dark early by my 13 yr old daughter screaming for help in a very loud whisper. The was an intruder in her room and she could not sleep because it was making too much noise. Alarm! Panic! Intruder Alert! Hey, wait a sec....! The "intruder" was a kangaroo rat. A baby one. It had scurried into Taylor's backpack to escape Sugar the cat. The commotion brought on by the chase woke up Taylor who woke me up to help catch the thing before the cat did. Yeah, likely...the cat catch it before us?? Too early for that kind of laugh.
The little critter, eager to escape death by fluff, made it easy for us by taking refuge in Taylor's backpack. Now, anyone with teenage kids knows that handling their backpacks require gas mask, hazmat suits, and tongs. Therefore, I let her handle her backpack. I was more concerned the rat would die from inhaling noxious gases than it being pawed to death by the cat. So we…uh, she… took it outside to release it. It hopped off into the weeds we call grass in our front yard. Then suddenly from across the driveway, Willow comes charging over to say “Good Morning” to me but takes a sudden hard left, as if someone had yanked her by a rope, and zeroed in on the rat. I had forgotten the bathroom window, aka cat door, was open and Sugar came bounding out of it and across the yard. They were tag teaming this rat. So imagine if you will the following scene.
Kangaroo rat is hopping around the yard like a pin ball bouncing off trees and other objects, cats are chasing said pin ball—running into each other and over one another, and me, chasing all three…in the dark…in my jammies….with bare feet…in a yard full of stickers. We manage to corner the critter and shoo the cats away from it. I reach down to pick it up with cupped hand, to save it from a horrible, painful death—AND THE DANG THING BITES ME!!! WTF MATE?? And it drew blood—little stinker. It will not let go! This thing has clamped down on my thumb with jaws like a vice grip. I am jumping around in place, with this rat attached to my thumb and I am screaming like a peacock. As I am jumping around, thoughts of rabies, hanta virus and e-colli come to mind. Friendly and cute, my behind!! Thanks I get for saving its hide. So to return the favor, I bring it in; put it in an ice cream bucket with air holes (without the ice cream); and some seeds. We plan to release it—someone where there are no cats. However, can’t guarantee there won’t be Hawks.
The little critter, eager to escape death by fluff, made it easy for us by taking refuge in Taylor's backpack. Now, anyone with teenage kids knows that handling their backpacks require gas mask, hazmat suits, and tongs. Therefore, I let her handle her backpack. I was more concerned the rat would die from inhaling noxious gases than it being pawed to death by the cat. So we…uh, she… took it outside to release it. It hopped off into the weeds we call grass in our front yard. Then suddenly from across the driveway, Willow comes charging over to say “Good Morning” to me but takes a sudden hard left, as if someone had yanked her by a rope, and zeroed in on the rat. I had forgotten the bathroom window, aka cat door, was open and Sugar came bounding out of it and across the yard. They were tag teaming this rat. So imagine if you will the following scene.
Kangaroo rat is hopping around the yard like a pin ball bouncing off trees and other objects, cats are chasing said pin ball—running into each other and over one another, and me, chasing all three…in the dark…in my jammies….with bare feet…in a yard full of stickers. We manage to corner the critter and shoo the cats away from it. I reach down to pick it up with cupped hand, to save it from a horrible, painful death—AND THE DANG THING BITES ME!!! WTF MATE?? And it drew blood—little stinker. It will not let go! This thing has clamped down on my thumb with jaws like a vice grip. I am jumping around in place, with this rat attached to my thumb and I am screaming like a peacock. As I am jumping around, thoughts of rabies, hanta virus and e-colli come to mind. Friendly and cute, my behind!! Thanks I get for saving its hide. So to return the favor, I bring it in; put it in an ice cream bucket with air holes (without the ice cream); and some seeds. We plan to release it—someone where there are no cats. However, can’t guarantee there won’t be Hawks.
