I Didn't Want to Be a Pet Drama Blogger!

Is anyone sick of the Pet Drama yet, here at Cassoulet Cafe? Well, I certainly am! And it just doesn't quit. So, after the deaths and the vet escapade, there are two new story lines that merit attention.
Blueberry not only gave Skeeter a cold that turned into life threatening pneumonia, but he has now shared the love of what I thought was a facial injury...it's in fact, ringworm.

As I type that word, I have chills going up my spine. No, ringworm isn't an actual worm it is a nasty little fungus....I detest fungus.

Flashback of beauty school, old lady, toenails deformed by fungus so bad that her toenails actually looked like a small tree branches. I was retching and vowing never to do another pedicure the rest of my life, and it did not look dissimilar to this awful mess.
I hope you had your lunch already. Sorry for the visual, but I am one who cannot suffer alone.

So, The Twelve Year Old now has three ringworms on her legs. We're putting clear nail polish on them, as per Yahoo Answers. We'll see. My entire body is itching, convinced I'm covered in ringworms, but I have yet to find one. (And don't even mention the word "lice" to me, or my head will start spontaneously itching and I'll run to the mirror ten thousand times today to check my hair).


When we got the cats, we put the only surviving rodent pet into the garage. Secretly hoping she'd kick the bucket too, but she kept on keepin' on. Two nights ago, as I drove into the garage, I saw a mouse in the bag of trash that I had set out there (not making it to the can yet) I started screaming for Husband to come help! When he came out he started lecturing me, "That's what happens when you just toss the trash bag out here!" I was ticked, since taking the trash out is his job, but horrified that it had actually brought about a mouse! When he walked closer he said, "Hey, that's Licorice! How did she get out of her cage?!" Hmmphh...see, I didn't bring wild mice in with my procrastination!


He put her back in the cage, but yesterday morning when I went out to the garage to load the kids in the car to go to school, The Six Year Old started laughing hysterically and said, "Licorice is out of her cage and sitting behind the tire of the car!" Was she trying to commit suicide, because I'm sure she saw the whole thing go down with Suki last month. She knows I can rid the house of pets with the press of the gas pedal. We tried catching her, but she ran. When I got home, there she was, near the cage, but not in it. Being that the kids were gone....and being that they do not read my blog...I will admit what I did: I opened the garage door, went inside the house, locked the door, and waited.


The official story is that Licorice either escaped (true) or just has a new nest inside the garage (OH. MY......what for Pete's Sake was I thinkingggggggggg?) I left the cage door open in case she wanted to turn herself in. It still sits empty. Duh. And as I am The Great Procrastinator and talented in denial when I don't want to face an ugly truth, I stopped thinking about Licorice breeding in the garage.....

....that is, until I read this post this morning: The Creature From the Garage Loft.

So, I will be sitting here on my bed, trying to come up with a plan, and I think it may involve a mouse trap or letting, gulp, the cats in the garage. Licorice was a good mouse, but let's face it, when Mice Go Wild we need not fear getting all maverick-y to protect our turf.

Who's with me?