I can’t kill anything.
Somewhere in me lives a Quaker who feels even ants have their constitutional rights.
Yesterday it started with a waterbug I was attempting to relocate. I flush them, figuring, they must be Olympic swimmers given their name, but this guy wouldn’t let me coax him into a Kleenex moving faster than a meth addict, resulting in squashing him by accident. It bothered me all day knowing, my karma that’s already down a quart, is now below sea level.
After interring him in coffee grounds, taking him to the basement for burial, upon my return, I see something skirt from the kitchen into the living room at the speed of light.
When I regained consciousness, I screamed into the intercom, my assistant super arriving like the cavalry, hammer in hand to beat whoever was killing me.
He tried convincing me it was probably not a mouse, but just another waterbug, and I should just sit and calm myself.
OH YEAH? CALM THIS BUSTER!
Since when does a waterbug have legs like Tina Turner, that’s what I want to know, cause this thing traveled like a souped-up Land Rover.
I shouldn’t be all that shocked considering the entire city is being jackhammered, and even Bobby Kennedy when he was our senator said, there are more rats than citizens in New York, and that was in 1964.
But back to the matter at hand.
After setting up roach motels behind the stove and fridge that made it look like Vegas, we had to discuss glue traps that we all know, are not too humane. It was my call, Sean said, to glue or not to glue.
I told him I’d get back to him on this.
I then called Ed who said, what’s the alternative, you make room in your closet and put his name on the mailbox?
The trouble with cellphones, they don’t slam like landlines.
All day I was troubled, knowing he was in my house somewhere maybe doing push-ups behind the couch, and how am I going to sleep with him prowling for snacks. And what if he really likes the place, and decides to move in his relatives.
I’m leaving the lights on, just in case I walk in on him doing a line dance.
And then, it hit me. I’ll borrow Zeus the cat who’s such a pal, I can’t imagine wouldn’t come right over and tend to my needs. I know what you’re thinking, he’s a cat, if he meets up with Mickey, Mickey’s toast.
I thought about that, but then figured, nature knows best, plus who am I to interfere or argue with Zeus’s way of doing things since, as a rescue cat, he’s been to the rodeo before.
Right paw, left paw…do the Hokey Pokey.
Better get some fish for dinner and set another place.