My cats have made a real man out of me

Based on the reaction of people I view to be "strong men" I decided not to put up photos.

Let me back up a little. Don't you hate those movies, when two men are fighting, and the woman is hiding and whimpering? 

I do.  I always want to slap her and yell "Pick up that chair, and break it over the bad guy!"   Ugh.  Finally, Hollywood got the point and the woman often takes out the bad guy. 

I'm a "Get up and Fight" person.  I hate victimhood.

So, one fine day, when my cat brought me a foot long snake through the cat door, I didn't freak - much.  If you're curious, you can Google "Brown Earth Snake" for an image - I would have put up an image but I've seen grown men shudder at the word "snake" so I don't want to cause hysterics.  Someone reading this probably has an issue with snakes. 

I shuddered a little, and tried to catch it.  I didn't do very well and it started heading out of the corner, into the house.  So, I grabbed my dustpan.  Snakey went right in, I put him (?) out, and that was that - until the next snake. 

See, that sweet white cat in the photos to your right had a great taste for reptiles.  He was always bringing me snakes, and dropping them right at my feet.  One time I moved a cushion on my ottoman and I found a brown snake, reclining.  God knows how long I'd been resting my feet on it and YES it was alive.  Quite lively, in fact.  That was an interesting roundup. 

Most "girls", with the exception of my friend Sharon, are scared of snakes.  While watching TV, I witnessed a whole family in hiding, due to a 6 inch long nonvenomous snake.  However, my husband is blind. 

I don't want to kill it.  We couldn't afford for someone to come out every time Frosty brought me a dirt snake.  I had to deal with it, and I got pretty good at it before Frosty died.  Snake - so what.  Ho hum.  How many? 

The lizards, in my opinion, were not a big deal.  If I caught them I put them out.  If I couldn't catch them they died and I'd dispose of their mummified corpses.  Usually, though, Frosty ate the lizards. 

The rats were a whole different story.  Bubba likes to bring me a live rat now and then. 

You're probably thinking, and he's still alive?  He's my Bubba.  I love him.  Every relationship I have, save God, is riddled with dysfunction in one way or another. 

Bubba's love language happens to consist of bringing me live rats now and then.  So, I deal with it.  Usually I try to wrangle it into a 5 gallon bucket, so I can slap on a lid and put it out again.  Trust me, the rat does not want to live with us. 

I've been able to "scootch" the rats a few times - getting them into the bucket, one way or another, and getting them out.  They always run like hell, like a bad heavy metal song. 

One time, while trying to coax the rat into the 5 gallon bucket, it ran up my arm.  I let out a bloodcurdling scream and the rat jumped off.  I found that one a few days later and got it out.  The last one was smart in some regards, but Bubba proudly left the hindquarters and tail in my doorway for my discovery when I came home from work, a few days later. 

One way or another, he will finish it.  He just wants me to participate. 

Baby Girl (the tabby) likes to bring home insects and leave them in the tub.  Since I wear glasses, but not in the shower, I just realize there's something alive in there, when I'm already blind, naked and standing in the tub.  They don't live long, either.  She loves bugs. 

One way or another, my cats have really made me "butch up" as they say in weightlifting circles.