Lost arts...

My nemesis is getting skinnier and skinnier...but he just won't go away. In the top left photo, you can see him fleeing my wrath after having squeezed his loathsome body between the side gate and the fence.  Chicken.  In the top right, you can see him sitting at the edge of my neighbor's house, taunting me.  There he will stay until I go back to Inside.  No matter how long I glare at him from my side of the house, he will remain.  The rat.

My puppy momma has told me, again and again, that I should learn the art of compromise or sharing or both.  Myrtle says they are lost arts.  I don't know about that.  I find nothing artful about having Fearsome Beast living in MY backyard and taunting me in the process.  Myrtle says I should feel sorry for him, because while I have gotten a tad...plump...he has shrunk in size over the winter.  She has worried that he will die.  Me?  Well, honestly, I would say, "Good riddance!" were that to happen.

But despite her confusing and somewhat treasonous stance on my nemesis, Myrtle does love me.  Truly she does.

Today, she bought me my own Baby Bunny, complete with a squeaker!

Now, this bunny is down right ugly.  And already I do not have the same love and affection I have for all my Babies.  Instead, I have found it a perfect object of all my ire and wrath and frustration over Fearsome Beast.

Already, I have ripped his whiskers off and damaged his tail.  I eaten one of his eyes.  And I am thinking that his ears might make a good snack, too.

I shall not tuck him into bed with all my other babies.
I shall not snuggle with him.
I shall not carry him about to keep him company.
I shall not love him.

This bunny shall be no Baby of mine.  I shall be making short work of him.

Too bad Myrtle won't let me get my paws on the real thing.  Maybe...just maybe...after seeing me pour my righteous wrath out upon this bunny, she will relent about continuing to allow the miscreant interloper to live in our back yard.  Maybe she will cover up the hole to his home beneath the back porch and dig up every single speck of greenery, so that, if Fearsome Beast chooses to continue to live in stubborn defiance of my rightful reign, he will die a horrible death of starvation.

This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!