They say bad things happen in threes. And to that I say, Pshaw! Who are “they” anyway? Because I’d like to have a word with them. I’m here as living proof that bad things can happen in fours, fives, and for poor saps like me, let’s talk nines.
It started when, unbeknownst to me, my kitchen faucet started to leak (bad thing #1). How am I to know it was slowly dripping under the cabinet? Unfortunately, I rarely look under there. Turns out it holds stuff I didn’t know I had. Like how often do you use sterling silver polish? Me? Let’s say never. And here’s my proof.
Take injury #1 that occurred 3 weeks ago. I was trapping ferals for spay/neuter and using our new remote control drop trap for the first time. What an awesome invention. Cats are smart little buggers and they sometimes catch on to the fact that I’m trying to capture them, especially when I have to be present to operate a normal drop trap. They seem to know I’m hiding 50 feet away in the bed of a pickup, not-so-clandestinely peeking over the tailgate.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 