In January, I told the story of Cat, Loo, and the great mouse hunt.
Thursday night, I could hear Kitty (The Investment's cat, who came to visit and didn't leave) scratching at a wall. Now, Kitty lives outside quite a bit, and she often didn't come home to eat, since she pretty much did Cat TakeAway food she caught on her own. I presumed she could hear a mouse in the wall, it's not as if I don't get them every year.
I live across from a partial field, and, well, every mouse around finds it's way into my house. I put out traps and DeCon in a variety of flavours, setting it out on little tables with tiny wine bottles holding itty bitty candles. They eat the DeCon and ignore the traps. The local mice put my house up on MouseList, so that other mice from other states come in, bringing their little fertile bodies with them.
I've DeConed so many mice, I'm pretty sure the insulation on two sides consistes of dried out, flat mouse bodies between the outside and inside walls.
So, Kitty is scratching the wall, driving me mad. I get out of bed, muttering and mumbling, to make her stop... and when I move the object she's scratching on, a mouse darts out running for it's life.
Kitty, being the brave soul she is, darts into the closet. The mouse is in the bathroom. Sophie looks like a kid on it's first trip to Disneyland... bouncing up and down with no idea what to do. Being one smart cookie, I put Kitty in the bathroom with our visitor, Sophie close behind, and go back to bed, offering up a prayer for the little rodent's soul.
I has cats, I will not has mice!
I was asleep in moments, my soul clear of guilt.
The next morning, at 5AM as usual, Sophie proceeded to clean my face, her subtle way of saying, "Hey, I'm doing you something, you come feed me." Thankfully I turned on the light in the walk in closet...because there, as a little gift for me, was the eviscerated mouse... the head, feet and tail were there... nothing else. They had cleaned it out, sharing the snack, I'm sure. Both looked at me, then to the flattened skin, then to me... waiting for praise. "Here," they were saying, "THIS is the food of champions And, it lets us give you a present without having to send off boxtops!"
I dutifully patted their heads, gave them treats, picked up the mouse skin, and for a moment, considered tacking it up on the garage wall to cure. There will be a lot of mice this winter, and, well, I've always wanted a fur coat of some kind.
Clearer thoughts prevailed, and I gave the mouse carcass a nice burial... it flushed like a charm.
I simply will not think of mouse guts and my face and the same tongue.
Really, it's best, don't you think?