I better get a bouquet of flowers for my cane (it would probably settle for some antibacterial lotion) because I owe it an apology. A few days ago, I nearly met my Maker (my Maker, not my Maker's Mark) when my car randomly developed narcolepsy in the middle of a highway exit ramp. At the time, I blamed my cane for trying to murderize me by pressing against the metal key, since it had motive.
It turns out, however, that I was pointing the finger at the wrong culprit. The verdict is in and the plot against my life was committed by....rats! That's right. 2010 is the Year of the Rat. First, the rats murdered one of their brethren and and stuffed him in the walls of our house; (probably, they had been watching that season of "The Wire" where Marlo, Snoop and Chris hide bodies in the row houses). After they got a taste of blood, they must have wanted more because they turned their attention to a bigger target: me. They snuck into my car and chewed up the wires, which is what caused my car to stroke out. Car murderers! I don't know what their motive is, but I'm going to go ahead and assume that it's because no one accuses me of carrying the bubonic plague or sets traps with peanut butter to snap my neck. (Because, honestly, given my love of peanut butter, that would totally work).
When Erin C heard about my brush with death, she thought that maybe the raccoon mafia had contracted out their hits to a gang of rats. Or maybe it's a raccoon-on-rat turf war! Perhaps that's why Sashimi has been randomly barking at 3 a.m. She knows that murder most foul is afoot! Maybe she can smell little raccoon meth labs. Sashimi has a toy rat that she loves to shake around, so I think I'm going to keep some treats in my pocket so that she will stay at my side and take care of any wildlife.
In other news, tomorrow is my appointment with my neurologist. Yup, more needles in the ass.