And I don’t mean a Shakespearean play where questionable tactics are used to “tame” a woman.
I mean Shrewby Doo.
I caught the little bastard in one of those humane mouse traps in my kitchen after discovering the kitchen trash bags had been torn open from the inside of the can. And seeing as how it was colder than a witch’s mammary outside, I put it into one of several spare aquariams I have, with the thought of releasing him/her when it got warm.
That was a month ago. It’s still not warm.
And now the little shit is fat and happy because I make trips to the pet store just so I can feed it 20 nasty mealworms twice a day. I’m not saying we’re going to being cuddling anytime soon (they’re venomous AND adorably small enough to be confused with a Bic lighter), but I was just trying to be nice. I have enough pets to take care of. The last thing I need is some poisonous fat bastard chirping at me for its dinner.
But then my mother found out about it and vowed to not come over again until I got rid of it.
So…this is a forever pet, isn’t it?