A friend of a friend has kindly lent me a live trap to try to catch the Cat Who Shall Be Referred to as Henry Rollins.
What have I gotten myself into?
Seems I run the risk of catching an armadillo!
I really don't want to do ANY of this cat trapping stuff.
The feral pet situation feels like Iraq:
the messy fallout of a series of fucked-up, careless decisions on the part of a whole bunch of us stupid humans, going way back.
And now it's my problem.
Well. OK, then.
Please send sardines.
