Friday, November 30, 2012

True Love and Crime Fighting

Rob and I will be together forever.

You're thinking "How can you say that? Forever is a really long time! How do you know?" Well I'm sure at some point we will begin to hate each other but even then I'm fairly confident we will stay together as long as we both shall live. Why? Because the some of the things we've done around each other CAN NEVER BE KNOWN. Seriously. If shit gets bad enough that we are considering a divorce, it's going to be like Mr. & Mrs. Smith at our house. Remember that movie? Only we would be fatter, not as beautiful versions of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Except only one of us would make it out alive.
When you are in a relationship, things will happen that you'll take to the grave. I tell my best friend a lot, then when I get drunk I tell everyone else in the bar even more. But even in a drunken pirate stupor, there are things I will never, NEVER say. I'm also not telling you, Nosey Nancy, but here are some guidelines for the beginner on things never to talk about:

1. Anytime anything has had to be squeezed, popped or prodded by your partner, on any part of your body which requires you to use a mirror to see. And no one has to know you requested the mirror to see how your significant other is handling things. Not even if you are married to a doctor, no one needs to know that shit.

2. Anything embarrassing that may happen between the sheets. Not only while being intimate, but anytime you are in bed. Sometimes you can't help what your body does in a relaxed state.

3. Anything that required the disposal of any article of clothing due to an embarrassing mishap.

4. Anytime one of you gets stuck in a garment of any kind, with the exception that the garment is 4 or more sizes too small and you knew it wasn't going to fit before you tried it on. Then tell everyone, that's really funny.

5. If either of you ever dropped your child or anyone elses child.

6. That really bad fight you had. Especially when it was over the last Little Debbie.

7. Referencing back to number 2: Anything you may have tried in order to spice up your love life in which you failed horribly.

8. Your love life in general, really. When you talk about it with others you're either going to creep them out or turn them on, which is creepy in itself. Just don't do it.

9. The massive amount of food you ate together, then went to get ice cream.

10. Toilet clogs.

I'm sure there are many more but those are the ten I could think of without making my brain hurt.

Besides keeping secrets, another important trait in a spouse or significant other is respect. I feel like Rob respects me and therefore trusts in most of the decisions I make in life. He isn't at all controlling, actually he kind of just lets me run around and do whatever I feel like doing, and usually backs me up. Now that I think about it he either really, really loves me a lot or not at all. I'm going with love.

For example, today I was driving to my mom's, talking to my sister on the phone. She had just pulled up to her apartment building and noticed some weirdo pulling bags of garbage out of the dumpster and putting them in his truck. I just happen to be about a half a block from her apartment, so naturally I do the completely sane thing, slam on the gas and attempt to catch this could be identity/banana peel thief down myself. Well I couldn't find him so I call Lacey back, quickly interrogated her for information and drive to my mom's. The minutes passed as I waited for my slow ass mother to get in the car, I tried to motivate her by screaming out of the car window and honking the horn wildly but it was soon evident I would not be able to track him down. So I reluctantly called the police with my full report and decided they could deal with it. Finally my mom got the hint and got in the car, I filled her in on my failed mission and chewed her out for making me loose the perp. Just then, my mom yells "RED TRUCK! WITH A TOPPER!" which was the exact vehicle Lacey had described to me. He went back to the scene of the crime and was once again leaving the parking lot. So we squealed out of my mom's side yard we use as a second driveway (yes, yes we are very classy) and took off after him. Luckily for him two vehicles came between us and for the first time in history we had to wait for about a million cars to pass before we could go. Not knowing which way to turn, we surveillanced the area and determined he must have taken a right, we headed west. I looked down the streets on my side, madre looked down the streets on her side. By the tome we came to the four way stop, he was long gone. "He isn't down this way! Go left! GO LEFT!" she shouted, but my gut told me otherwise "NO! We go straight!" I forcefully replied. As I flew down the residential street going 624 mph I caught of glimpse of red. "Gotcha!" As we sped on, another stop sign. As I went to California roll it, my mom was busy yelling 'THERE HS GOES! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" "STOP SIGN!!" I yelled back "DON'T STOP! YOU DON'T STOP WHEN YOU'RE CHASING!" He busted a right, I flew up behind the dumb white SUV in between us and proceeded to also bust a right. Suddenly we see the truck pull into a driveway a couple houses down. "There he is! There he is!" I say while my mom is yelling "PULL OVER!" Then we argue about pulling over, so I pull over. Now this is one part of my crime fighting I need to work on because I have pulled entirely to close to the guy, my mom and I are yelling at each other, she wants to get out of the car and go up to him and I think we should just watch him for a minute. My mom flings her door open and gets out, I'm screaming 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!" She does this weird two step turning thing like she can't decide which direction to go, gets back in the car, we look over and the guy is just staring at us. We are not sneaky. So then I go into Academy Award mode, open my door while at the same time hitting my truck button, get out, walk to the trunk, lift, close and channeling Shakespearean Theatre shout "Damn trunk!" while shaking my fist at the heavens. I jump back in the car and we fly off down the hill. Then I called the police back, told them I found the guy and where to find them, I'm sure she was writing down every crazy word of it. Then we waited at the bottom of the hill for awhile, argued about my mom wanted to go look in the back of his truck and finally drove towards my house.
On the way home I called Rob and told him the whole story. I told him I reported the guy for suspicious behavior and that since our stakeout went horribly wrong, he might also get a call about two females in a car with our license plate acting suspiciously as well. He replied "I'll just tell them, 'Yep, that's my wife!" I bragged about my sweet vigilante justice skills and he told me he didn't think vigilante is actually a good thing and I said at least I'm not a terrorist.

Moral of the story is, once you find that special someone who puts up with your questionable life choices, someone who doesn't judge you for having seconds and still having room for ice cream, someone who is willing to claim you when the police call, hold on to them.

Until next time.

Monday, November 26, 2012

My House is a Hot Mess. And by "my house", I mean me.

My house is a disasquatch. That means it's a disaster of Sasquatch proportion. Which sucks because I printed and laminated myself some sweet daily chore lists because I'm about as responsible and trustworthy as a 10 year old when it comes to getting anything done around the house. (If anyone asked, I did NOT do this at work, I have my own giant expensive laminator at home) Well that was like 3 weeks ago  months ago now and they are still sitting on the kitchen counter...somewhere.
I don't understand how some people can keep their house so nice and neat, seriously where do they keep all their stuff? The only explanation I have is they must have a second house somewhere that looks like hell. I have so much crap, so so so much crap but I can't bring myself to throw it away. Because it's not really crap, I just call everything crap. It can be something really nice but I call it crap, it's my overall definition for anything in the world that isn't living. Mostly my crap consists of books I'll never read, pictures I'll never hang and lots and lots of things people have given me over the years that I don't need or want but can't get rid of.
For instance, last week my mission was to make Magnus the warrior bunny a better litter box, one that he can't kick poop and litter everywhere. Basically, it's like a cat litter box with some kind of grating inside of it, 2-3 inches off the bottom, yada yada yada, look it up if you want to know more. Regardless it looks like a better litter box than I have now, plus higher sides=less poop grenades. Well they were all out of cat litter boxes at the walmarts so I got like a plastic thing out of the dish washing area but couldn't find anything for the wire grating. I checked two of the dollar stores on my way home, everything was either too sharp or the spaces too wide and Mags' foot would get caught. Then after work the following day, I went and walked around Target, found nothing. Are you asking yourself what the hell this has to do with the first paragraph? Well here is the thing, I have exactly what I need sitting in my garage, it's one of those shitty wire rabbit cages you see on farms oe 4H shows. My mom saw our old neighbors putting it out on the curb for junk days, (Pre-Magnus) knew I had been talking about getting a bunny and grabbed it for me. I was like YES! but then I read about how bunnies get really bad sores on their feet, sore hocks, from those types of cages so I never used it. So why don't I just cut off a piece and use it? Because I am irrational. Here is the actual conversation I had with myself on the way home from Target tonight.

Brain:Why don't you just use a piece of the cage in the garage?
Irrational Self: Because I might need that someday
Brain: When are you ever going to use it? You were going to throw it out the other day!
I.S.: Yeah but I didn't because I might need it someday.
Brain: For what?!
I.S.: Well, if I find a critter I need to help!
Brain: You can use Mags's to-go carrier
I.S.: What if I find two critters?!
Brain: Use the other cage in the basement
I.S.: BUT what if  I find THREE critters!

It was a really awkward drive the rest of the way home.

Whenever I try to clean, it's an emotional rollercoaster.

At first, I'm happy and excited and usually hopped up on coffee and diet pills. (Happy!)

Soon I start finding things I want to get rid of but then I think about who gave me that piece of crap and then I start thinking, that person who gave me that piece of crap is going to die someday! And I'll never see them again. (Sad)

Oh my god, I'm going to die someday! Has my life been all that I want it to be? There are so many things I never got to do! I can't die! Who will take care of Rob, Rolo, Bella and Maggie? (Depressed)


Crying, crying, crying *Call Me Maybe comes on* ....this song is...... AWESSOOMMMEEE!! *Dance moves, dance moves* Welp I'm feeling better (Happy again)

I'm going to make a cleaning playlist!! (Super Pumped)

*Two hours later*
I'm gonna blog about dumb shit! ( YAY! Mode)

*Five hours later*
oh my god. this place is a mess. I got nothing freaking done today! I'm SO PISSED! (Anger and self hatred)

I have noticed the one thing that will get me to clean, is when my mom stops by and tries to help. Not because I have the extra help but because I get so terrifustrated, terrified/frustrated, when she starts to clean. Nothing gets put away in the right spot, the dish-a-washer gets overfilled and things that should NOT be in the dishwasher (like the Chicago Cutlery) and my mother has this weird condition were she feels the overwhelming need to move things around the house. Oh no, not just like my silverware, cups or crap like that, one day she actual rearranged my entire living room, within like 4 minutes. I seriously went in the other room to put something away, came out and everything was different. Which was super annoying because I had JUST rearranged everything the day before, according the the diagram I had been drawing out for two weeks.

I'm also a procrastinator, as a matter of fact I started writing this post literally 2+ months ago and am just FINALLY posting it!


Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Another Cat Tale

This is actually a really, really sad story but it is also really weird so I am going to share it with you.

As you know from my very first post about how rabbits are assholes, I am a cat lover at heart and have been since I was a little seahorse of an embryo.While Brody, the orange Persian was like a child to me, I had another cat who was with me for over 16 years. His name was Peaches and yes Peaches was a boy but I was young and wanted to name him Peaches. So little Peach Pit was the son of Nala, a cream colored kitten I received from the neighbors that lived a couple miles down the road from us. Peaches was the best cat in the entire world. When we moved into my great grandmother's house, she had a black and white female cat named Tammy, Peaches and Tammy did not get along, at all. My great grandmother, God rest her soul, called Peaches King Kong and blamed him for the constant cat fights that occurred in the house even though everyone knows it was Tammy always starting shit....just saying. Anyways years came and went, eventually we brought in other cats, Smudge a big gray Persian with gold eyes who sadly we had to put down when his kidneys failed. Soprano, a chinchilla Persian, was stolen from our yard when he got out one day. Brody who was murdered by the bastard plumber who ran him down in cold blood, devastating and completely ruining my life. Through all the good and bad I always had a constant, Peaches. He could tell when you were having a bad day and would come comfort you,  playful even in his old age and loved to cuddle. We noticed slight changes in his appearance, he wasn't as filled out as he once was, his fur wasn't as fluffy but his personality never changed. After my sister and I moved out and my mom was by herself our multiple cat home turned into a one cat home, just Peaches and my mom. Then one day in 2010  I went to visit my mom when I saw Peaches laying under a bush, I said hi to him and headed inside where I saw Peaches sitting on the couch so I said hi to him and walked into the kitchen. Then I stopped, walked backwards into the living room and looked at Peaches, walked back outside, looked at impostor Peaches and yelled "WHO THE F--- ARE YOU!?!"
I asked my mom what was going on and she said that one day this other cat just started coming to her house and pretty soon he just started walking in the house. You may be wondering how someone could mistake their cat of 16 years for another cat but until you got close up, it was near impossible to tell the difference between them. It was uncanny. So since Peaches didn't seem to mind this new freak cat hanging around, my mom decided to keep him.

Ellie was always hanging out at my mom's house so she got to name him, she decided to call him "Bambi".

Peaches, the Orignal Gangsta

Bambi, the impostor

See! Freaky weird huh? Yes, it is. Ok so Bambi starts hanging around outside the house and eventually comes inside and takes over. If anyone has had multiple pets of the same species in one home and you feed them (like you should you terrible, terrible pet owner) you will notice a pecking order. Peaches has always been the first to eat and the other cats would fall into place, it's actually a very interesting dynamic to witness in domestic pets. So a few months after Bambi came, we noticed out of the blue the pecking order between the two cats changed. Peaches backed off and let Bambi start eating first. I thought it was weird but maybe because Bambi was so much bigger he bullied his way to the top spot. Everything was fine for a couple months or so, until one day my mom called and said Peaches was sick, I'm not going to go into details because it's TOO SAD. :'( So sad story, short we took Peaches to the vet and he had to be put to sleep..........It was extremely sad and I puked in the vet's parking lot. 

Continuing on. I always felt Peaches knew that he was long for this world, so when his perfect replacement came along he knew he could  give up the reins to Bambi. Even though Bambi was kind of an asshole.

Why oh WHY did I tell you this sad story? Because I posted this picture on Facebook a long time ago, it recently was rediscovered and commented on by some people and I felt like there was a long back story that needed to be told.

Yes that is really Bambi, no it is not photo shopped, no camera tricks. Bambi is ginormous. I am holding him like this:

(I found this picture on the Internet)

Cat show pose! I saw this one time on TV a long time ago and ever since then I would randomly yell "CAT SHOW!!", grab the nearest feline and do this cat show pose. So that's how I am holding him in that picture.
Anyways, Bambi took over Peaches spot. Then a few months after Peaches died, Bambi was murdered by my mom's stupid, bastard dog that she commandeered from her ex-boyfriend. He also tried to attack Ellie and the 2 year old twins (my brothers kids), that dog was an asshole.

So that entire story was devastating. But the one part was really weird.

Until we meet again! Bye.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Post Electolyptic Post

As none of you may know, my husband and  I have some differing opinions when it comes to politics, his are researched and well founded while mine are usually based on TV sitcoms, things I think I've heard and full blown lies I make up as I go, as most of my opinions are. We also vote for different parties. We don't usually talk about politics because he always get mad at me, the conversations start out intriguing but because I don't know squat about government it always, ALWAYS ends in me making up "facts' and pretty soon I'm yelling "Mitt Romney personally called me and told me he is coming to cut out my uterus because I'm really a gay man and he doesn't want to give me my food stamps!!" Rob then tells that I'm ignorant and gets pissed.
I'm not ignorant, I'm just annoyed. Some people gets so worked up about politics, to those people I just want to say take a look at your own life. I don't know about you guys but I have enough crap to deal with, life is hard enough as it is without being pissed off at some government figure everyday of your life. Or just the government in general.
I speak from experience, let me elaborate. In eighth grade we got a computer, along with this computer we also got the internet or as I call it the "intskernets", that's not a clever code or anything I just talk that way. My mother had a friend who would come over and use our intskernets and soon I was privy to the underground world that is government conspiracy theories. I learned all sorts of amazing things that when brought up in conversation with my 8th grade friends.....ok friend (singular), made me seem NOT SUPER F-ING WEIRD AT ALL. If you want to ensure your kid has no friends going into high school, get them googling chemtrails and FEMA camps. Yeeeahh!! That's the shit right there! I remember sitting in choir one day, talking to my friend Lynsey about how the government is constantly watching us with satellites and super mics and if I said anything about a plot against the president or something, agents would be busting down the doors in minutes. Sounds pretty legit right? Soon my government conspiracy stage passed and I went back to being just the regular everyday weirdo I am. Sure I still get a little caught up when The Discovery Channel airs the occasionally Area 51 program but for the most part I'm over. Besides, if the government did decide to round me up and throw me in a FEMA camp, I already know how that would play out...Like this:

4:00 a.m. - CIA operatives bust through the door and head to my bedroom. Four of them immediately trip over all the crap on the floor, break their necks in the fall, die.
4:05 a.m. - Second string of CIA ops bust through the windows, manage to get me into custody, as they are verifying it's me, they are blinded by both the flashlight reflecting off my baby powder white skin and my early morning Medusa-like appearance. I then open my mouth and the poisonous gas that is my morning breath fills their lungs and they die.
5:10 a.m. - After many casualties lost by way of death farts, ravenous rabbits and a rare form of lung fungus. The CIA decide to rethink their strategy, they successfully lure me into their van using bacon. They do not give me any of the bacon. Bastards.
9:10 a.m. - *During transport* CIA refuses to feed me hoping to wear me down. Their plan backfires, my hanger (hungry anger) transforms me into a raging she-hulk. I tear everyone in the van limb from limb, the van is mine!
9:45 a.m. - I'm found parked outside IHOP, in a pancake coma. Recaptured.
10:30 a.m. - Taken to FEMA camp outside Kansas City. Checked in, orientation film
12:30 p.m. - Smell BBQ ribs, bust through electric and razor wire fences
1:05 p.m. - Found on sidewalk, in BBQ rib coma. Taken back to camp.
1:20 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. - Alternating 15 minute spontaneous song & dance spurts and 15 minute hysterical emotional breakdowns
10:15 p.m.- Thrown out of moving van, onto my front yard. CIA decides I'm not worth the trouble. Walk inside, sit on couch, watch tv.

See! No biggie! Like everything in life, just because even if someone has a plan, like putting everyone in a FEMA work camp, doesn't mean it will ever work. The biggest variable in any equation is people, they are completely unpredictable, you can't plan them. I don't really know how to end this post and I'm sick of typing sooooooo..

love you, bye.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Kitten Tales

So as many of you know, unless you aren't my FB friend or have me blocked, on October 1st I became aware of a tiny, little kitten which showed up in my neighborhood.

Soon I became obsessed. When ever I was home I would just sit and stare out our living room window, hoping to catch a glimpse of this little wonder.
As the weather grew colder, I started to worry for the kitten's health and safety. I set up a watch post next to my window, strategically placed cat food at the perfect angle so I could see the kitten but it was still in the bushes a little, out of the view of any predators (other than myself). I had a pretty good plan, when I saw the kitten approaching I would throw the dogs in the bedroom, so they couldn't bark and scare it away, run out the back door, sneak up the side of the house (keeping a careful eye for crunchy leaves) and wait for my chance. It didn't work. The kitten had wandered to the other side of the house, so then I just kept going out to check. Though I was incredibly quiet, I was wearing my sweet moccasins, I soon realized my neighbor from across the street and one house down was out walking his dog. I noticed him watching me and very possibly calling the police. I probably shouldn't have worn the face mask stocking cap and all black outfit BUT I WAS BEING SNEAKY. I was also unsuccessful.
And build a shanty I did! It was a sweet little get-up, a cooler on its side in the bushes, threw a old  towel in there and used the lid of the cooler to make a roof. Suitable protection from the elements for a tiny, wittle kitty witty. Unfortunately, the kitten didn't use the shelter that night, or the night after, or the night after. So then on October 12, I decided I would attempt to trap the kitten. If my trapping was a success, I planned on taking the kitten to the shelter or finding it a home. My sister, L-bot, happened to have a small live animal trap she used to used to trap ground squirrels that would get in the basement of her old apartment. Yes, ground squirrels broke into her apartment enough times that she was forced to buy a trap. Anyways, I go get the trap, get some more canned cat food from the store, SET IT AND FORGET IT!! Remember that info-mercial?? haha. But really I set the trap and put it on the front porch with a towel over it, it was raining. Really early that morning we got a bad storm, it woke me up at like 6:30, Rob was already up getting ready to go to work. I was also watching Ellie so I got up and moved her in with me so in case the storm woke her up, she wouldn't be so scared. Then I was all "The Kitten Trap!" I go look in the trap and I CAPTURED IT! HUZZAH!
So I bring it inside and head downstairs to transfer it from the little trap to Mag's luxury transport, aka a medium dog pet taxi I got at the flea market for $15. The kitten was clearly a little shook up from all the commotion, a tiny bit irritated. I may have accidently slammed the trap into a door jam while trying to carry all the shit downstairs but I'm pretty sure the kitten was already angry before that happened. So I'm trying to get the kitten out of the trap and into the carrier when something goes horribly wrong and the kitten flings itself out of the trap and runs across the room. So I get it cornered and calmly try to talk it into getting in the carrier. It does not feel like getting in the crate but it did feel like hissing, spitting and scratching me. So now I'm wondering if maybe this isn't the greatest idea, what if this thing has rabies, maybe its too feral and I shouldn't have intervened. About this time I hear Ellie asking in her tired, little voice "Did we catch the kitten?" So I tell her yes but stay on the stairs because it escaped and it's a little cray cray. I get it cornered again and I get close enough to put a towel over it and grab it. So I'm fat girl hustlin' back to the center of the room to the carrier when the dirty little bastard goes spastic, scratches the shit out of my hands and bites through my finger, including the nail. So I'm screaming, not a high pitch squeal, its like a full baritone "AUUUGGHHHHHHHHHH!!" That is the point that I realize ok yes this was a terrible mistake, this thing is clearly Satan incarnate and I definitely now have frucking rabies.
Kitten, now know as Devil Kitty Bite Bite gets thrown..dropped...placed carefully back on the floor. And the thing vanishes, GONE. Black magic shit. At this point I am bleeding EVERYWHERE, yet staying incredibly calm. Not really, I'm actually yelling up the stairs at Ellie to have Rob give her the cat food out of the fridge, neither of them are communicating well with each other so I scream "%&$# IT. I'LL GET THE %&$#ING CAT FOOD MY-%&$#ING SELF." To which Rob replies WHAT THE %&$# IS GOING ON?! so I tell him, 'THE GOD DAMN DEVIL KITTEN GOT %&$#ING LOOSE OK?!?!. More swearing, Ellie yelling at us for swearing and fighting, Rob leaving, slamming the door on the way out. Mind you this is all happening shortly after 7:00 a.m.
So I spend like 15 minutes looking EVERYWHERE for this kitten, on my hands and knees, can not find it. So as a last resort I have Ellie get Bella for me. Both Bella and Rolo are rat terriers and even though they sit around watching TV all day, they are great at the job they were bred for (except for killing rabbits, Magnus put the fear of bun in them soon after he came to live here). Bella is my tracker and Rolo is my killer, these two have gone straight Ghost Face Killa' on some moles in the backyard. So we get Bella downstairs and in 30 seconds she finds little Diablo el Gato hiding on a shelf, tucked between a box and a TV. Kitten takes off again, corner it, this time the stupid thing runs right into the pet taxi. YES!
Ellie and I take turns calling it Satan and decide it is way, way too feral to take to the shelter and I am way too angry to deal with it. So after all that, we take it back outside and let little Charles Manson Dahlmer go. Looking back I feel like I probably should have let it calm down for a couple hours but I was seriously so pissed my mind was unable to think rationally and I just wanted the damn thing out of my house. We have already established I am a terrible person, so whatever. We did take the following pictures before we released it:

So Ellie watched from the safety of inside the entryway as I opened Pandora's Box and let the plague of Devil Kitty Bite Bite back into the world. I then went inside to cuddle with Magnus and tell him that he was a good bun-bun and not an asshole, not even a little bit. Compared to that kitten he was like an fluffy, orange dream. Then he bit me, I dropped him back into his cage, called him an asshole and stomped off. Then Ellie and I went back to sleep.
The End....
NOPE. NOT THE END! Little did I know this was only intermission.
About 7 hours later.
Ok if you were pissed about me letting the kitten go instead of exorcising are not going to want to read this next part...
Rob hears Bella barking in the backyard, which is not unusual being that Bella is a loud mouth and loves to sit and bark at the back fence. He opens the back door and tells her to get inside and as usual she doesn't listen, so he walks out to get her and starts yelling at me that the stupid kitten is out there. I'm like "AHHHH IT'S THE DEVIL! KEEP IT AWAY FROM BELLA!"
I run out there and it is just crouched in the grass hissing and clawing at everyone. So we scare Bella off to the front part of the yard and wait to see if the kitten will take off running but it doesn't. It tried, but its back half just drug behind it. We are like F*&%! Bella just attacked this damn kitten. So Rob starts freaking out, I don't really say anything because I feel like shit for A. Calling the kitten Satan multiple times, and B. Letting it go in the first place. So I just go inside to get a towel and the carrier but I think Rob thought I was just going to leave it because when I came back out he was like " You can't just leave it there!!" He is very sensitive to creatures in need. I just keep telling him to go check Bella and make sure she's not all beat up, in case we need to call the vet or something. I call around and get ahold of animal control. I tell them I have a feral kitten that may have been bitten by a dog, I failed to say my dog because I was scared for some reason, so they say they will come by and get it. We are waiting and waiting, for almost an hour, both of us feeling terrible because Bella tried to murder a baby kitten, even if it was the most evil kitten in all the land. We just couldn't figure out why she bit the thing, just in the last year we have had two, TWO bunnies get stuck in our fence and both times Bella has been the one to find them and both times she just sat next to them, barking, until we came out to save them. That kitten was little but very vicious and I didn't think Bella was dumb enough to get right in the line of fire. So animal control gets to my house and the conversation went like this:
Me: "Hello. Here is the kitten."
Her: "What happened?"
Me:*thinking* Uhh Uhh f-balls.. "It's hurt(???)"
Her: "Let's take a look"
Me: "Ok. Be careful, it's very feral"
She's talking to the kitten and gets ahold of it.
Her: "Yep. Dog got it, that's for sure. You know of any dogs around here?"
Me:*Thinking* uhh uhh(as my two dogs are literally in the window directly behind me barking like assholes) shit* "Umm well I have two but they have been inside all day" (Lie)
She looks over my shoulder and says "Those two?! No, this was a big dog that got it, a biiigg dog!"
Me: **HALLALLUUJAAHHH!!** Oh, well there is a couple big dogs around here.
Her: "Well we will call the Doc and see what we can do for this little guy."
Me: "Ok. Thanks. Bye"
So  I run inside and tell Rob that Bella is not a murderer and we apologize to her and tell her she is a good dog. Obviously if it was B. she probably would have gotten at least a little scratched up from Kung-Fu Kitty.
So the moral of the story is:
 You can't help something that doesn't want your help but if you let it go, it will be bitten by a dog, come back so you feel like a piece of shit for letting it go in the first place, frame your innocent dog, who was only trying to help, for murder and possible die.
Sad story bro :(