There was a murder. The first morning back from our trip, I heard some noises outside the bedroom window which initially sent me into a panic and I was just about to wake Tommy up…because I mean, whenever theres a noise or I just need a drink of water in the night, thats what I do. I didn’t get married for nothing. But then I stopped myself, Michelle, I asked myself, has it not been the case 100% of the times when you perceived grave danger in the shadows that there was in fact no danger? Why don’t you just let the man sleep, forget the noise, its probably one of those slutty street cats that roam the neighborhood slutting around like a slut. So I went back to sleep. Fast forward a few hours later, Tommy went to take out some garbage. He came back inside, visibly shaken and said “How about if I tell you there’s a rat in the garbage can.” No! This can’t be, where do we LIVE???, I thought, then, I had to see for myself. All I could see wast the furry back of the rodent under a bag and that was enough. What do we do? Release it into the wilds of Ferndale? No, that didn’t feel like the right decision. Stab it with the end of the broom. Again a no as we are not suburban rodent killers and felt this was not an option. So Tommy said, I’ll put the lid on and we’ll see what happens. So that is what we did. I went out a few hours later and kicked the side of the can to see if the end had came for the rat, no movement but I did not open the lid, just in case something insane happened, like the rat jumping out and biting my face. Tommy came home later and he opened the lid, and then he came to get me. There was not one dead rat inside our garbage can, but actually an entire rat family laid there, suffocated, at bottom of our can. A mom rat, a dad rat and little Bobby, their son, a baby rat…or maybe he was like a third grader, I’m not sure I DON”T KNOW HIS EXACT AGE! But we are fucking murderers. We killed a rat family. I feel uneasy about it. I feel like I should warn the garbage men. I feel a lot of emotions. But we can’t have rats harassing Fran and threatening the sanitation of our property. Fran’s property, she’s very proud of her lands, she often just lays by the back door surveying them with pride and respect. We had to do it. For Fran. I’m sorry to little Bobby Rat that he didn’t live a longer life, I’m sorry that he had bad parents that led him on such a dangerous and ultimately fatal mission…and for what? The scraps from a Vegan household? Fran could have told them there was nothing good for an animal in there…she misses the days of meat-eating in this house and knows all she can ever get is a bean here or there nowadays. They died for nothing. But anyways, I still feel a little bad. Rest in peace Rat Family.