The lump was about the size of a Bushy-Tailed Woodrat, a mammal renowned for its foul temper and a fondness for lining its nest with cactus spines, and it probably stands as a testament to just how poorly I was dealing with the whole situation that for several long seconds I found myself wondering exactly how an actual rat—a live rodent—had managed to tunnel his way beneath Pete’s skin.
I mean. That seems like a fair question.
