Oh, oh, infiltrators in the Chihuahua’s casa
September 18, 2013 § 1 Comment
Oh, my friends, I know I have been way too quiet, absent all together, really. I’ll need to catch you all up on a whole lot. But listen to my tale and you’ll not only forgive the Chica, but you’ll understand the whackiness of the twilight zone I’ve been caught in. It all began about a year ago …
I guess you could say I was sleeping on the job that night, but all seemed quiet on the prairie and it was 1:30 am! Way past my bedtime. When apparently, in the dead of night, two infiltrators snuck onto this Chica’s territory. And Mama being a softie, she fell for their sad mewing and big shinning, pitiful eyes. Oh, the poor things (right?!!!!!!) pathetic!!
But before I could say, “uno momento, por favor,” Mama and her accomplices (the kids) where out there on the front walk trying to lure the skittish, frightened and “helpless” little creatures. Aww, they they looked so scrawny. They must be starving. How long had the poor dears been out there all alone?
Ole Tigger and I soon caught on to what was going on just outside the door. OK, so we had gotten to the Alamo stand a little slow and it was already looking bad for the home team. But it WAS late as I said and we were half asleep. Tigger glared fiercely out the window while I started barking trying to shoo the mangy things away from my property, but all I ended up doing was waking Dad up. He came to see what all the ruckus was about so I figured he would take our side and we’d stand our ground together. But he took one look outside, sighed deeply, shook his head in defeat and went back to bed. What?!?!
Whoosh! They captured the first critter. You could say he was the less bright of them two geniuses. Throw a little food out, wave a little twig and GOTCHA! Seriously dude, you fell for that? So much for survival instinct. Off he was whisked into the garage. Hey, maybe it would be OK, so long as they stayed out there and did not infiltrate the casa we could work out some territorial arrangement.
Seeing what happened to his bro, the other pesky critter caught on quick. He scooted into the bushes and stared suspiciously at the humans trying to soothe him and con him out. There were a couple of forays into the open and failed attempts at grabbing the biestie, but the varmit was too slick and fast. However, Mama is nothing if not determined and patient. She just sat out there pretending not to care and playing with the food and the twigs, with an “innocent” looking towel just laying there. I gave up on the barking, both because Dad was threatening to throw a shoe at me and because this was actually becoming an entertaining spectacle, a true showdown if not at high noon.
As I could have told the silly cato, eventually that patience and the Mama won out. On the third pass near arm’s reach, Mama struck out like lightning and houdinied the cat into the towel where the flailing and slashing was soon contained.
Off to the garage went little Cato number two. Mama and her crew set up some rudimentary accommodations — water, food and a litter box. So OK, I thought, as only the approved individuals came back inside and everyone agreed to go to bed. We’d all gather like sensible family members and discuss what to do with the refugees in the mañana. Humph!!! You bet your frijoles we would.