Yoo-ooo Heeeeeeave Hoooooo!

Well, it happened like this.

I came into the living room and approached Rat Towers to say good morning to my boys - I was as usual beautifully gowned in a long tee-shirt nightie (red and white striped) and an antique chenille jumper (purple, black, red and cream striped - yes, it is as lovely as it sounds) with my hair styled by a night's sleep which included some enthusiastic tossing and turning. I looked as alluring as I always look first thing in the morning - my son slept through the night from a very early age, having realised that generating any noise likely to waken the beast from its slumber would result in ME arriving at his bedside, bearing a striking resemblence to a sleep-deprived Klingon with ingrowing toenails and abscessed teeth... enough said..... my son slept through the night from being about 10 minutes old.

But I digress. Going back to the original tale, remember that I'd arrived to greet my boys and to wish them good morning, whilst being dressed in immaculate style... (by the way, I refuse to pay for counselling for anybody who has recurring mental images of my morning attire). I approached Rat Towers, opened the door (very large - I actually climbed into the cage before the floor was installed and my ass is (to put it mildly) WIDE) and put in my arm to stroke my New Favourite Rat Colin who was a member of the rat pile in the top hammock. Colin greeted my affection with the normal squeezing shut of his eyes in an attempt to pretend that I wasn't really there, but I persisted. I harbour the hope that one day - one Wonderful Day - Colin my actually decide that he welcomes my attentions. Such a day wasn't to be this one, however. The stroking moved from Colin to the other boys - about six of them in a two-rat hammock - when I began to realise that it was getting a tad chilly in the basement area. Looking down I could see that the remaining rats - fifteen of them - were working as a team and dragging my nightie into the cage. Simon was at the front, acting as Fore-Rat and directing proceedings, enthusiasticaly scooping up fresh acres of my beautiful robes. By the time I'd managed to extract rats from clothing, my wobbly nether-regions were exposed to chilly morning air and several extra holes had been chewed in my precious garment.

Team work? Working with others? Rats have that taped; my ass can testify to that.