Sunday, December 19, 2010


I have two rats. They are utterly beautiful and I love them very much.
They get the occasional treat, but usually this consists of vegetables.
Nice nommy veggies.

The other day I open my advent calendar to get some nice nommy chocolates. For me.

 Yep. I chopped the chocolate in two and gave them each a bit.
Ratty Morry ate it. Looked at me. Decided that I had done the job that was expected of me. And went to sleep.
That is not what happened to Ratty Sherlock. Ratty Sherlock had a bit of a sugar high.

 Ratty Sherlock looked happy enough however. So I turned away for a second and decided that *I* wanted some chocolate. I opened my advent calendar again. (It's ok guys - I had a few days unopened because I suck at time keeping and punctuality.)
 That's when I heard the noise...

 Chocolate is clearly a bad idea for Ratty Sherlock. I have never been bitten by my rats, but the fact that my hands were near the source of all goodness made them an immediate target.
 I am not good at processing pain. My body tends to go into a kind of shock and I feel like I am dying. It felt like my hand had been removed with a rusty hacksaw. Not good.
 From now on - this is me.

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