10:45 p.m. beneath the dining table. Hamilton was playing around under there when I saw him moving with interest toward something small and fast.
With the last one, something clicked; no longer am I convinced that they are somehow going to manage to escape their plastic tub during the night, so this one's just waiting on the counter until morning.
Either the cats never get bitten or they do and it just doesn't bother them much. There was that time last year when I was positive that Ham had eaten one in the tub; we never learned for sure what happened there.
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