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Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Flagged again

Sometimes, you just have to be honest enough to admit when you need help.

It's time to import some talent to go Ninja on the vermin. I am finally willing to admit defeat in my war against the on-going squirrel/mouse/vole/gopher apocalypse, and start a search for highly qualified, experienced SEAL/Green Beret/Ranger/ Pararescue barn cats.

My front yard looks like the post Shock and Awe postcards from Baghdad, and there are more tunnels than the Viet Cong dug. The sound of rodent laughter keeps me awake at night.

I'm looking for a couple barn cats.

The uglier, the better. No such thing as too many scars. Three or more legs preferred. Prior convictions, imprisonments or over-due library books will not disqualify any candidate with a solid, well-documented combat record.

My dog, Snorp, fell off the wagon, after confiding to me that he was beaten. Even as I write these words, he is on the front porch, awash in an ever-expanding pool of dog drool, tears, and the remnants of a half rack of incredibly cheap beer.

Cats named "Fluffy", "Princess", "Missy", or "Lester", need not apply.

If you have a cat you're afraid of, or one who has failed rehab several times--I'm interested.
If you have a cat that has worn out its welcome--I'm interested.
If your cat smokes, drinks and has morals lower than my Uncle Dexter--I'm interested
If you have a cat that thrives in a 'target-rich' environment--I'm really interested.

I'm desperate here Buckaroos. Give a brother a hand.

Squirt me and email. We'll talk quantitative kill zones and kitty litter.


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