One warm, lazy morning, Sally was happily dozing in her comfy bed, only barely thinking about getting up for the day. Suddenly, the doorbell rang (quite loudly, I might add).
Sally scrambled to put some decent clothes on and get to the door. The bell continued to ring - no time for a bra!
Sally rushed out into the foyer to be met by her neighbor from upstairs, who was rushing down the steps. Sally turned to see a man with a tank of sorts outside the main door. The neighbor rushed to the door, greeted the exterminator-looking man, and quickly tried to usher him upstairs. "My apartment is upstairs!" she said.
"No worries, I'll get to you. I have to spray everyone, so I may as well start on the ground floor." Reluctantly, Sally ushered him inside.
The exterminator-man got out his tank and hose and began to spray what looked like nothing more than water along the kitchen cabinets and bathroom floor. "Had any issues?" he asked.
"Maybe a cockroach here or there, and some ants, but that's about it," Sally replied, while awkwardly crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh, I see... Any mice?"
"Um... No."
"Ok. Well, have a nice day." And with that, he was gone.
Now Sally was paranoid. Were there mice in the house? What had he sprayed on the floor? Why did it look like water? Would it hurt her roommates cats?
Sally reminded herself that she'd never had mice problems before, and that maybe this would start to kill off the other pests. She shrugged it off and went about her day (starting by putting on a bra).
That night, Sally lay in bed, just beginning to doze off, when something came careening through the open bedroom window. Soon, an agitating howl was heard from the kitchen. Sally dragged her ass back out of bed to see what the hell was going on.
Sure enough, one of the cats had caught a mouse and brought it in. Had they been the issue this whole time?
Sally ran for a pair of gloves and chased relentlessly after the cat. The last thing she needed was a dead mouse stuck in the nooks of the house. Finally, Sally caught up to the cat and managed to pry the rodent from its not-so-tight grasp. Out the door the poor thing went, and the now empty-handed cat made a point of hating Sally for all of 5 minutes.
The end.
Moral of the story: Exterminators don't make much difference when the cats are involved.
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