I smelled a Rat -literally. However, in truth, not only was the rodent scent wafting through the stagnant garage air, but I felt The Rat. Indeed, one evening while opening the garage door in anticipation of the family walk - all very Leave it to Beaver- until . . . the Rat scampered right by me, his tail whipping my leg en route. Stifling a scream, I preserved my children's innocence by pretending nonchalance. Heroic, I know. Fortunately, he smelled the planted peanut butter on the trap and swiftly, we (read: the Wal-mart trap) killed The Rat.
In close, two thoughts: One, rats in paradise, while incongruous are (apparently) prolific. (Just as my mom -who was practically sipping coffee with her friend Robbie the Hawaiian Rat- can attest) Two, I remain convinced this "parable" has profoundly applicable principles for our justice system. Think about it.
Apparently, I should just let Caid handle the rodent
2 comments:
I liked the "Ding Dong the Wicked Rat is Dead" subtitle on our original email. I just think the whole rat phenom in paradise is hysterical and I am convinced of the Lord's great sense of humor in dealing with His precious honey bee:) You know who that is ... By the way, what a beautiful name!
eEEEEEEK!!!!
Gross.
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