Sly One

It was 3:55 am when I heard the clank of wood and metal hit the bottom of the tub. Definitely, not the time of night to see a decapitated mouse, so I did not get up, but Phoenix and Diablo were off the bed in a shot. Ah, my guard cats. Actually, I think they used the incident as an excuse to rouse me for a feeding. Having nothing to do with this, I turned over and pulled the sheet up over my shoulder only to be disturbed by an early morning hot flash and later my 5:30 alarm.

It was after my morning run, the first cup of decaf, and a shower before I ventured to see what dead varmint lay beneath the tub. Unbelievably, the trap had been sprung, the cheese was gone and nothing was in the jaws of death. That had to be a cockroach.