Never play cat & mouse games if you're a mouse. ~ Don Addis
In the general run of things, few things upset me more than my cats catching something that's alive ~ like mice. Not that I like mice. They creep me out but you know, they're tiny & my cats are big & they cry.
Last night Marlow caught a mouse. Goodness knows where it came from as we thought we had dealt with our annual spring problem. It was probably escaping from the wet ~ because yes, it is raining again. Huge torrential deluges that have turned our yard into a pond & Liddy, who had to go out to Beaudesert yesterday & was coming home via Beenleigh, discovered just how quickly the creeks are rising now & overflowing the roads. Which has nothing to do with mice.
That Marlow was even awake is something of a miracle. How that cat can sleep! That Kirby wasn't the catcher is unusual because that cat hunts anything that moves. Anyway Marlow whisked himself & his prize down the stairs into our back room ~ which, at present, does not have a light ~ with Kirby hot on his heels. I hardened my heart. I do not like mice. I do not like mice. I do not...
Then Star arrived in high dungeon demanding that someone, anyone, deal with the mouse. She could hear it crying all the way at the other end of the house! *sigh* So armed with a torch & a box we began hunting cats. Have you ever tried to convince a cat it does not want a mouse that is still squeaking? I've tried easier things.
My Dearest thinks I'm mad. I keep cats. Cats hunt. Cats catch mice. Why am I hunting cats to put the mice outside where, if they don't die of fear, they will promptly turn round & re~enter the house?! I know, but I can't bear it. Star can't bear it. We have goo for insides.
And you know the worst part? I felt sorry for the cats. They were such good boys & they were having so much fun & I'm a real party~pooper!