She's back--George scored the capture this time, last night, in the livingroom, with a lead pipe... oops, sorry, that's Clue. But anyway, he got her! She's in her cage with a BUNDLE of twisties now serving as the barrier between her furry behind and freedom.
The things we do for rodents.
I'm all like: George, she's 3 ounces. Why don't we just let her run free. She wont eat much. In the year of life she's got left [[editor's note: I'm assuming she's about 8 months old now, and they usually don't live longer than 2 years]], how many turds could she leave around--a hundred? They'll shrivel up into nothing. Really, we've got more M&Ms under the couch from Jenna than that.
He's all like: We will not have a rodent loose in this house.
I'm all like: You're so uptight.
George: Everyone else is in bondage in this house. And besides she's a canibal!
Me: She's not a canibal. She was being a good mother when she ate those babies--they didn't have a chance.
George: She had a chance not to eat 13 babies. She's a canibal. She is a c-a-n-i-b-a-l.
Me: She was being merciful and she's a good mother.
George: Canibal.
Me: Good mother.
George: I know mother's like that.
Me: Okay fine. You win. Just keep her caged like a rat.
George: Like a canbal.
