I used to have a cat named Trixie. Trixie wasn’t the brightest. Once I watched her bat around an ant for a good ten minutes. (Now that I’ve written that last sentence, I’m wondering if maybe this story says more about me than it says about Trixie.) Anyway, eventually Trixie ate the ant and I was all, “Good work, Trix. You got him.”
But then, Trixie looked over at me all wide-eyed, and she stuck out her tongue, and the ant fell out of her mouth and onto the ground. I kid you not, THE ANT STOOD UP, BRUSHED HIMSELF OFF, AND SAUNTERED AWAY. I think I heard him whistling a little “don’t mind me,” song as he nonchalantly slipped out of Trixie’s reach.
The Sabres reminded me of that ant tonight. I do not know how they walked away from that game victorious, but they did.
(Actually, I do know how they did it: MILL-ERRRRRRRR!)