Falling down stairs

  This is a literal post. I'm not trying to be coy or funny. Those just come naturally. This post is to tell you all that I wouldn't ask if my own husband was OK if he fell down the stairs. I know this to be true because it occurred. I'm not proud of it.

   Imagine a guy who is 6'7 slipping and falling down stairs. Then imagine that he doesn't get injured and you don't actually see it. You only HEAR it. This has happened before and I have to say it's a joke as old as time. It will never get old. He was mildly annoyed that I had a 10 minute laughing fit before asking if he was OK. I tried to pawn it off as wifely intuition. He would have none of that. Oh well. At least I got a good chuckle in.

   This morning when we headed downstairs (husband and cats) to get ready to go to work and eat our cat food (respectively) there was the strangest sound coming from the outside. Or so I thought. It sounded like someone's dryer had a loose something or other and was squealing. Aaron opened the door to the basement (which is funny b/c there is an open "cat hole" so they can come and go freely) and it got louder. Naturally I assumed it was our dryer. Don't ask me who I thought was doing laundry at 6 am.

   He continued down the stairs, cats in tow. Something was clearly up as the cats were ignoring their meals and it's usually the "end of the world" as they wait to be fed. A mole. There was a mole. Running for it's life. I felt we should save him since Apollo has become quite the mouser.  Aaron says "grab them!" and runs down stairs with puffy gloves on.

   I rushed the 2 hunters upstairs. Turk escaped before I even had the door shut all the way to my bedroom.
I got her back, scooped up Apollo and sat waiting for Aaron to chase a blind mole around our basement.

   Saved from certain death, the mole was released back into the wild. Well...the condo complex mini-lawn.

Would you want this to be the last face you ever saw?