If I Could Pull the Nerves From My Skin, I Would

Once I had this desire to be found on Bloggers "Blogs of Note" list. I know this was a lofty goal. I even impressed myself with it. Eventually it passed through me like some bad Mexican salsa. Occasionally, like some bad Mexican salsa, it comes back to grip me by the throat then yells, "You must get on the Blogs of Note list!". Once again the feeling leaves like a dejected gorilla after losing a mating war.

I still wonder what it would be like; then I don't.

My objective today was to actually speak of the prairie dog family that recently moved into my garage. It was on my way to my car that I noticed them huddled warmly and sleeping under an old rug in the corner. As I pulled the rug off of them I realized that there were four. My guess was there is a mother, father, daughter and son. Such a cute nuclear family of prairie rodents.

They were definitely surprised to see me. The father of the group pushed the other three back behind him and raised his claws to me with a nasty little prairie dog growl. I asked, "Who are you? What are you doing here?" All I got in response was the growls. A prairie dog doesn't really growl I guess. It is more of an evil chirp. Some say the noise a prairie dog makes can be as loud on a decibel level as a jet airplane. A real evil airplane, of course. An airplane that takes off and lands you in the very depths of hell.

I once took Prairie Dog Chirping 101 in college but dropped it after a week. So I could not understand what they were saying. Luckily the cat spent some time on a ministerial mission to a colony of poor prairie dogs, so he can speak the language.

There were some meows and hisses combined with loud and evil chirps ringing in the air. The cat came back and explained the situation. The prairie dogs (Lets just call them PD's, ok? I am tired of typing that out.) snuck into the garage after escaping from a depressed neighborhood nearby. No, it is not the same one that is being run by the guinea pig but just as bad. They heard there were better opportunities here and felt they had a right to move into my garage.

The cat further mentioned that the PD's (See? That was much better.) saw how messy my bathrooms were and said they are willing to do that work if I wasn't going to. Sure there is some underwear on the floor which I haven't moved in 7 months, but it is MY bathroom, dammit!

The last few days hasn't been too bad. I have noticed I am running out of food but those bathrooms are super clean. I know, eventually, we will end up getting along and I probably won't even care anymore.

So the latest tally is: 2 gay hamsters, a religious zealot for a cat, my driveway is being protected by a knife-wielding ferret under the orders of a guinea pig, and now a family of PD's living in my garage. All in all a great way to be a blog of note.