So I’m sitting in the living room with Arthur and a couple of friends, knocking off a bottle of wine, when we hear this loud, high-pitched squeaking/scraping sound. It sounds exactly like when the cats scratch at the deck doors; nails on glass. But it’s not coming from the direction of the deck.
Then we see the mouse.
May I pause for a moment to emphasize that I don’t live out in the country? In fact, when I did live out in the country, I’d occasionally see mice in the house, but they were field mice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a house mouse before.
The house mouse is much smaller than a field mouse. It looks just like one of those little toy mice we bring home for the cats to attack and devour. Except, y’know, not bright pink. Or green.
So there it was, bold as you please, walking across the living room, not even trying to be discreet. And may I say, uglier than a field mouse as well. At this point, the Gang of Two are going bonkers, and Arthur’s all “What do we do?” And the rest of us just say, “That’s what we pay these cats the big bucks for” and sit back to watch the show.
Sure enough, about fifteen seconds later, Mighty Mighty Mingo trots across the room, all “I am the Hunter, Fear me!” with a mousie in his mouth, and we all applaud. And Christine points out that cats like to toy with their prey and tend to be disappointed when they’re finally dead. As if to prove her point, a minute later we hear the squeaking again. Mingo has let his toy run free so he can get more exercise. Or maybe he’s just sharing with his sister (not bloody likely).
The next morning Arthur is up before me and he calls and says “Hey Mom? You know how when we bring them toy mice they tear the stuffing out of them and leave them inside out in the middle of the room?”
Yep. That’s what they do all right.
That must’ve been quite a site! Though I’m not sure I would’ve handle the situation with the same degree of calmness that you seemed to.
When the family and I went camping a couple of years ago, Our little huntress, Sadie, left a little gift of chewed up dead mouse right in front of our bedroom door. Just her way of saying “Thanks ya’ll for taking care of me” I guess?
copy of lj post 10/2005 sadly Tomas died last thanksgiving – he made several other attempts to teach me, he was pretty determined that I should know how to fend for myself.
So yesterday morning I got given breakfast in bed. It was a sweet thought, but I’m afraid I didn’t eat it. I hope it’s not still around eating.
Yep I was woken up by about 20 (i didn’t count) tiny wet toes scrambling across my face, attached to a live brown mouse. Tomas standing right behind my head to see what I’d do. I picked it up by the scruff and offered it back to him and went to go put my contact lenses on.
I come back out to find Tomas lying in front of some of those lacy bricks I have. The mouse was of course hiding in them. We both poked at it and harrassed it till it made a break for it and eventually ended up behind the tv where neither of us could get it . I put Tomas’s food away and shut him in, in hopes it would motivate him to finish it, but I have no idea if he did. I’m afraid he may not have because of the way he was looking at the edges of the tv cart later that night.
So next time, I need to either kill it or take it out, just like that, if I can grab it like I did this time. The other live mouse he brought in (just before I was about to go to bed instead of as breakfast) reared up and pointed its head and hissed when I tried to grab it. It was not going to go down w/out a fight. This one seemed a bit dazed and confused sitting there on my pillow.
Earlier in the week he was trying to get me to hunt w/ him. He was trying to get me to come in the bushes with him. I said I wouldn’t do that, but I heard some rustling near me and I pointed said I thought he’d be interested… he wasn’t in that. But he led me back up the driveway of these apartments across the street and tried to get me to follow him through a fence w/ one board loose. It was obvious that he wanted me to follow, not that he was trying to get away, because when ever I’d stop following he’d look back and then come back to me, just making sure I didn’t pick him up until we were by our apartment and he’d given up on my following him.
He seems extra happy and friendly after these attempts, even if I’m not really performing as well as I should. He’s a great trainer really, even if he has no concept of the absurdity of thinking I could fit through a space less than 6 inches wide.
Must have been the day for that sort of thing. Lucy caught a bug (not sure what sort), brought it out in front of John and I & proceeded to eat it.
She has been telling us that something was out in the kitchen. Got 3 mice so far-2 field, one house-and it was a baby. Just killed me.
The last field mouse was not finished off by the trap. I had to (gag) assist it….
I’ve got the live traps now. Gonna drop them off in a miles away field…I prefer clean kills…
It’s spring, time for mousies, bugs, and super-active cats. Gorram it.
Y’know, it’s bad when your grocery list starts off with (and no, I’m not kidding)
CAT FOOD
LIVE MOUSE TRAPS
what’s wrong with that!!!!!!!!!!!!!???????????????
🙂
That’s some lame-ass useless cats you got there, Paula.
[…] And you think, “At least they’re not mouse droppings.” […]
[…] Mighty Mingo is a Mighty Mighty Mouser (no pictures). We’ve discussed this before. A couple of days ago, Arthur said he saw Mingo with a dead mouse, but he didn’t know where […]