The Teasing of the Shrew

I swear, now that Sufie has an audience she's gone into high hunting gear. On Friday she brought me a shrew -- a blind, black, confused, squeaking little shrew. Again, I donned my trusty oven mitts and went in for the capture. The shrew offered no resistance, except that after releasing the beast the mitts reaked of something horrible. I don't know if shrews are scented or if this guy peed on me, but the mitts had to be doused in dish detergent and stuffed in the wash. Sufie, no skunks, please.