Last night I sent Ryan out to our garage to get me a treat from the freezer. When he returned I not only saw that he'd forgotten my treat (which in and of itself was disturbing) , but more disturbing still he had a newly acquired fire in his eyes: the fire of the hunt. Ryan had seen a mouse. It is at these moments in my life when I realize that my mostly modern man has a raging caveman hunter inside. Nothing else mattered but the extermination of this vermon, this beast who dared enter his garage...his cave. I am ashamed to think that I doubted his swift victory in this conquest; and swift it was. Within minutes Ryan and his hunting comrad Jake had rushed out to the store to aquire proper equipment for the great hunt, baited traps with cusine irresistable to a mouse, and set them in what turned out to be the mouse's main thurofair. Then they waited. When, two minutes later, the wait became too much for them to bare, they threw open the door and flipped on the switch, "Aaaah Haaaaa". Knowing in their hearts that victory was theirs, their eyes darted to their snares. Empty. The mouse spotted them and did some darting of his own. This went on several times. Soon they had discovered that it was the flipping of the light and the boisterous "Aaaaah Haaaaa" that was hindering the capture. They wisely turned to creaking the door ever so quietly, edging a dim flashlight out and if empty returning into the house without a sound. A minute went by...two...five...ten. The doubt crept into me. Then....SNAP! The sheer glee on my caveman hunter's face as he realized that he had defeated his enemy, that he had thwarted the beast's hostile takeover of our peaceful home was indescribable. What a man...What a mighty good man!