As I mentioned, I've taken to sending my hubby an email now and then to let him know how I'm doing in the war. Here is one dated back on Oct. 6th:
To Richie@.....com
from avnrie@.....com
From the Trenches....
I don't know how much longer I can hang on. The war goes on -- make no mistake about that! -- and so far, the score reads something like "Varmint - 10" and "Me - big fat 0". "Max - minus 10"
Today is a day that will go down in history as the Battle of the Cheese. A nice, ripe bleu cheese smudge sat perched on a pita bread wedge; the aroma was so strong even the dog next door's nose was blipping like a radar screen. No matter. The Cheese Ball sat behind the skirmish line in the rear quarters of the trap, surrounded by his peanut and rotting cherry tomato comrades, all of them waiting for the blitz.
Enter the Enemy. Literally. First one teeny tiny foot...then the other...then snatch! One peanut lost. Little arm stretching to about 10 times its length, the Cheese remained out of reach.
Max, my Leutenant, and I retreated to the cave (house) to await in secrecy. The damn phone rang. Not five minutes later, I peer out the door and sure enough: trap sprung...no nuts...tomatoes over-looked (I can't say that I blame him)..and the Cheese Ball is about 1/2 its size. AND the trap is (you guessed it!) EMPTY.
Alternate plan! Why didn't I think of this before??!! Going to clinic to borrow a critter, better known as Mousa Hari. Maybe she can lure him or dazzle him silly long enough for him to become distracted. See picture below (and wish us all luck!!!!!)
And...here was his reply:
I believe I suggested that in the beginning of this ordeal HOWEVER if you look at his ability to avoid capture I believe he has a military background and the first rule you learn is put a helmet on that soldier……………………………….
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