Of Mice and Me

So this morning, I got up, straggled to the bathroom (it's still dark outside), and see that Maceo (the more wild of our two cats) is sitting on the toliet seat. This is a bit unusual. I’ve actually never seen him do this. I wonder what he’s doing, but then just completely dismiss it as it’s very early. I go to turn on the shower, and look up, and what's that? What's that running across the shower rod? Yes. It's a rat.
“AAHHH”, I scream. I am screaming my head off. Maceo runs out, and I slam the door. You guys all know how much I hate rats, right?
Finally, Tim runs downstairs, totally buck-naked, and is trying to figure out what's going on. (Side note: He sure took his time about it. His GF is screaming her face off downstairs, and it takes him 5 minutes to wipe the sleepies out of his eyes? Sheesh.) Anyway, apparently, I am hyperventilating and crying (I don't actually remember this), and he can't figure it out what has actually happened. Finally, I manage to get the words out.
A moment later, Tim returns, still naked and armed in work gloves and a reusable grocery bag (see, there are many uses for those things), and bravely faces the rat. He goes into the bathroom, and I hear him yell, "Baby, it's just a little mouse." Hmmm. I am fairly certain it was at least a 4 foot long rat. And everyone knows that men have issues judging size.
At any rate, he catches the mouse/rat, takes it outside, but before he can let it go, it JUMPS out of the bag, and both cats are waiting to pounce on it. Good lord. Tim finally gets the cats inside, possibly with the promise of food that doesn’t run away, and the mouse/rat makes his way to freedom. Presumably. For a minute, sanity is restored in the Cunningham/D’Andrea household.
Until I walk into the front room. It is like a blood bath up in there. I don't know what the hell happened last night, but there is a pile of bloody guts strewn across the room and a pile of vomit in the other corner.
It’s like Maceo and Shadow got wasted, went to Taco Bell, ordered 8 tacos, ate 7 of them, spilling much of them, threw up, and then let the 8th taco run into the bathroom to taunt and laugh at them for not eating it. Okay, maybe it’s not exactly like this but it this made sense to Maura and me.

Let’s pray tomorrow morning is much less eventful.