You probably think this blog is about you, don't you?

I recently was hanging out with someone - I kind of know her, but not really, and honestly, there's not much there that makes me want to know her any better - who felt compelled to tell me all about her allergy to turtles.

Turtles.

Don't people know that the only proper forum for sharing inane and uninteresting facts about themselves is Blogger.com?

Go wild in the country! (and not my backyard)

Last night Bobcat brought us home a rat.

At first we thought it was a mouse, and possibly it was, and we were just thrown off, size-wise, by the mouse-to-Bobcat ratio (Bobcat is a small cat, and this was a very large mouse)... but we also thought the mouse was dead, and when Patrick approached Bobcat to see if he could coax her into dropping the poor little mouse at his feet (I told him, "Make sure you tell her what a good killer she is, honey,") that fucking mouse jumped up about two feet and ran off into the bushes.

Patrick scooped up Bobcat and locked her into the garage (where she probably found the mouse in the first place) and made a lot of noise so that the mouse wouldn't be tempted to come back here. We wanted the mouse to think we were crazy and not the place for a smart, brave mouse to hang out.

Good Bobcat, bad mouse.
That damn mouse probably bled out and left a trail the other, scary, bigger creatures of the world will be following for days and nights to come.