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Just for Animal Lovers By Rich Showalter One time or another, I'm sure your household, like mine, has resembled the San Diego Zoo, Seaworld, and Wild Animal Park, all stuffed between the pages of Alice in Wonderland.
One day, a female friend of Richie's wanted to see the rats. The instant he placed Fang in her hand, she screamed. They parted company, both terrified of the other. Fang hit the floor on the dead run, slipping under the refrigerator, with Spookie, the Siamese, in hot pursuit. Old cross-eye was in her usual Code 5 position when she spotted a hot lunch in the form of Fang. Too late, she hit the pads, skidded and ricochetted off the refer door, just as the tip of Fang's tail disapppeared. A few weeks passed before we noticed that the food dish, next to the refer, was alway empty. Cricket, Spookie, and her new kitten, Freckles, were loosing weight and more hungry than usual. Suspecting a rat, we investigated developing evidence that pointed the paw of suspicion at Fang. Skillful interviewing also revealed that Cricket had been mugged twice at the food dish. Freckles was the victim of an attempt kidnapping, and Spookie was receiving threats on her life! Armed with arrest and search warrants, the boys pulled the refrigerator away from the wall, after the proper knock and notice. Fang had barricaded himself, snarling and snapping, defying properly constituted authority and letting everyone know he would not be taken alive. In the face of such belligerence, the boys retreated to the command post to evaluate alternative solutions. Fang feasting on expensive, high-protein, vitamin enriched dog and cat food had grown enormous with protruding front teeth that resembled twin sabers. Crunch was no good to us, having overdosed at Thanksgiving on minced rat pie and still suffering from indigestion. Too confining for a swat team. Tear gas out. Fang would just play a game of jacks with traps by springing them and watching them jump into the air. My wife, Geri, a nurse, came up with a brilliant solution. She pulverized a capsule of mysterious ingredients, mixing it with a large portion of peanut butter and leaving it where fang often excerised each night. The next morning, there he was, flat on his back, softly humming a few bars from "I'm just a stranger in paradise". Fang plea bargained to a reduced charge and was sentenced to a hundred and eighty days in the slammer and five years formal probation. Guess who was appointed his P.O. You guessed it, Crunch.
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