My animals are all nightmares. All three of them. Little furry puking, pooping, peeing balls of nightmares.
Don't get me wrong. I love them.
Most of the time I'm looking at them with malice in my eyes for the many presents they leave me on the floor. I'd say this look pretty much sums it up for me:
Thank God for my Steam Vac and my ability to somewhat keep a clean house otherwise these animals would get the best of me.
So, in keeping with their aggravating personas, tonight while I was putting something away in Anna's bib drawer, I had the scare of my life. Heart-attack inducing. Gut wrenching. Pass out on the ground and wake up 5 hours later scare.
A rat jumped out of the drawer.
A huge, gray and orange rat with big, freaky eyes and a furry tail. A rat that meowed much like one of my cats would meow. A rat with cat breath and cat whiskers.
A rat named Chloe.
Chloe the cat or rat had taken ownership of my daughter's bib drawer when it was semi-opened from earlier. I guess she assumed it was OK to nap in there because she certainly looked put-off after I opened the drawer and accused her of being a huge rat.
She is very rat-like, isn't she?