It all happened when my mother called war against her mates in the kitchen. She tolerated them through the cases of missing onions, bananas with tell tale holes and the flour spilled out from the damaged packs. Even the occasional half chewed dried sprat was regarded with much patience. They were happily making themselves at home on the scrubbed kitchen tops once the lights went out for the night. Life was getting better by the day for the furred friends up to a point it couldn’t get any better... Literally. That was when one (probably someone who wanted to know exactly how far their luck could be stretched) developed a taste for my mother’s newly bought slipper.
The war weaponry was brought in in different forms... rather mercilessly. It seemed that they have struck a rather dangerous cord. Poisons disguised as crumbs of tasty food, pads that stuck you the moment you stepped on it, and the tempting cage that held the elusive piece of cheese which trapped you for good, were some from the list. Several succumbed to the weaponry but the rest learnt the art of the game and proved difficult to eliminate.
That was when my mother decided to bring in the killing machine which looked really cute in a rather eerie way. It mewed, hissed, spat and worst of all played with the half dead enemy before she felt it was meal time. And say hello to Bindu...( hope she is ok with the introduction)
Introducing the new generation pest control device...
|In for a kill|
|Cat with an attitude !|
|Who said looking cute was easy ?|