I know that I have mentioned in the past that, in addition to the 9 pound monster masquerading as a dog, I have two cats. Two 17 pound cats. Big, badass cats. Fergus and Duff are indoor cats and, although they will sit in an open doorway and watch the dog wander around outside, they have no desire to explore the world outside these walls. They assure me fear has nothing to do with it.
They have been discussed on this blog before in connection with their strange way of dealing with the occasional mouse stupid enough to enter the house. They adopt them. Oh, if the mouse is dumb enough to run they will chase it, but then the three of them just hang out together. It’s not that I want bloodshed in my home, but you’d think their natural inclinations would compel them to at least try to get rid of it. What about their self-respect?
There are a lot of places for a mouse to set up home on this Island but once again there was an uninvited guest here Saturday evening. In my bathroom. I knew that because both cats were sitting there staring at something. Sure enough, the little brat was just sitting there staring back at them and, I assume, communing telepathically while showing no concern for its safety. They had their noses 4 inches from the little guy but he knew he was in no danger.
I decided I would have to do something so I went and got a plastic container. The plan was to trap it and release it outside where it could have a long, happy, healthy life somewhere else. I’ve been told they must die – personally, I think they just need to make better life choices.
When I tried to capture it the damn thing squeaked at me and ran off. Now, I’m not a monster. Even if I wanted to commit rodentcide there is no way I’m killing something I’ve had a conversation with. It took off and ran through the living room with two giant cats guarding it the entire way and a 9 pound dog trotting behind (looking confused as usual).
I told my animals that the mouse had to leave. There are lots of abandoned buildings on the Island and lots of empty houses which could use caretakers. My home is not a Motel 6 for stray creatures. I thought they understood.
The next morning I got up to let the dog out and discovered that it had snowed overnight. When I came back inside there were 3 imploring faces lined up in the kitchen. Two cats and a tiny mouse with an even tinier suitcase. Fergus and Duff tried to tell me that it was too cold to force their pet into the cruel world. Then they all demanded breakfast.
I’ve decided to bring in backup. He assures me that he can take care of the problem. What could possibly go wrong?