I'm Living With Killers
It’s a relaxing Tuesday evening . . . . Rod has just cooked me dinner (as per usual, I’m so spoiled). As we settle ourselves down with our plates and a nice wine, all of a sudden, our cat Mitzer bowls through the cat door and all I can hear is a loud, urgent ‘peep, peep’ of some small animal! I scream, “Rod, it’s yours!” and I proceed to the highest point in the room. I am now standing on top of the chair in our lounge, half-eaten chicken breast forgotten in my mouth as I scream for Rod to ‘get it.’ Whatever ‘it’ is. You have to understand, I am a bit of a wimp when it comes to furry creatures brought home by the cats. Rod never lets me forget the morning I woke up and stepped on a large black thing in the hallway, ran screaming into the toilet AS HE WAS DOING HIS BUSINESS mind you . . . . in a hysterical mess screaming and crying that there was a rat in the hallway. After Rod zips up quickly in order to rescue me from this horrible beast, he saunters back from the hallway to the...