I take back every last mean thing I ever said about our kitty being a lousy mouser.
Yesterday, I was chatting on the phone with my dad when Grumpy came up to me and announced that there was a dead mouse in his room. Still on the phone and with much trepidation, I followed him up the stairs.
He points to a spot on the floor and I stop a considerable distance from the small gray-brown furry object. I said, "Are you sure it's a mouse? It doesn't look big enough." He said, "Yes, I saw its eyes."
I drag myself closer to it to see better and make sure it's a mouse. "Eeeeuuu! It's just the head!" Chills start coursing through my veins and I immediately leave the room.
There was only one conclusion that I came to. The cat had finally done her duty.
I say good-bye to my dad who had been on the phone this entire time and call Doc....because that's what I do when there is a crisis. I tell him what happened and then he asked if I threw it away. "Are you kidding me? I am totally freaked about this!" I exclaimed. I was still shuddering.
"Well, get one of the boys to do it," he said. I looked at Bashful and Grumpy and knew what they would say. Still, I tried. "Will one of you boys be my knight in shining armor, get a bunch of paper towels, pick up the mouse head, and throw it in the trash?" I asked with my hands prayerfully folded.
They both stood there and looked at me as if I had gone off the deep end. "Uh, no, I don't think so," said Bashful. "No way! Not me!" said Grumpy.
"I'll do it!" piped up a little chipmunk voice from behind me. I turned around and there was my little Sleepy. "I'll get a glove and put the mouse head in the trash!" he said with relish.
With surprise written all over my face, I watch from a distance as he puts a glove on, picks up the mouse head, and troops downstairs to throw it in the trash. When he was finished, he proudly stood there as I fell on my knees, wrapped my arms around him and called him my hero.
With visions of a mouse head dancing in my head, I continued on with my day. Interspersed with my duties, I continually sought out the cat. With my lips pursed, I would say, "What a good kitty," but she would just look at me and walk away. "Whatever, woman," she seemed to say. "I remember you pushed me off the couch the other day."
Later that evening, Doc comes home and expresses his ultimate pleasure in the cat's mousing skills. "That's awesome!" is what I heard the most accompanied by the manly guffaw.
We were talking in the living room, he standing in the middle of the room, me on the couch, when he looked over and his face became a study in astonishment. As I looked at his face and wondered what in the world could surprise him so much, I heard, "Eek! Eek! Eek!"
"Was that a....?" before I could finish my question, Doc sprints forward and opens the basement door. Apparently, the cat had her snack in her mouth and accidentally dropped it. The mouse had scurried underneath the basement door.
She's a good mouser, but she can't walk through walls. Doc opened the door for her, but, of course, the mouse was gone. We weren't worried, though. We knew it was just a matter of time.
This morning, Doc tells me that he found the dead mouse in Grumpy's room. It hadn't been eaten this time, but looked pretty banged up. She must have had fun playing with it and didn't look happy when Doc picked it up and put it in the trash.
Our kitty has gotten a taste for mouse and has been prowling around looking for more snacks. Well, I say, "You can run and you can hide, but you cocky mice have met your match. You go, kitty."
Yesterday, I was chatting on the phone with my dad when Grumpy came up to me and announced that there was a dead mouse in his room. Still on the phone and with much trepidation, I followed him up the stairs.
He points to a spot on the floor and I stop a considerable distance from the small gray-brown furry object. I said, "Are you sure it's a mouse? It doesn't look big enough." He said, "Yes, I saw its eyes."
I drag myself closer to it to see better and make sure it's a mouse. "Eeeeuuu! It's just the head!" Chills start coursing through my veins and I immediately leave the room.
There was only one conclusion that I came to. The cat had finally done her duty.
I say good-bye to my dad who had been on the phone this entire time and call Doc....because that's what I do when there is a crisis. I tell him what happened and then he asked if I threw it away. "Are you kidding me? I am totally freaked about this!" I exclaimed. I was still shuddering.
"Well, get one of the boys to do it," he said. I looked at Bashful and Grumpy and knew what they would say. Still, I tried. "Will one of you boys be my knight in shining armor, get a bunch of paper towels, pick up the mouse head, and throw it in the trash?" I asked with my hands prayerfully folded.
They both stood there and looked at me as if I had gone off the deep end. "Uh, no, I don't think so," said Bashful. "No way! Not me!" said Grumpy.
"I'll do it!" piped up a little chipmunk voice from behind me. I turned around and there was my little Sleepy. "I'll get a glove and put the mouse head in the trash!" he said with relish.
With surprise written all over my face, I watch from a distance as he puts a glove on, picks up the mouse head, and troops downstairs to throw it in the trash. When he was finished, he proudly stood there as I fell on my knees, wrapped my arms around him and called him my hero.
With visions of a mouse head dancing in my head, I continued on with my day. Interspersed with my duties, I continually sought out the cat. With my lips pursed, I would say, "What a good kitty," but she would just look at me and walk away. "Whatever, woman," she seemed to say. "I remember you pushed me off the couch the other day."
Later that evening, Doc comes home and expresses his ultimate pleasure in the cat's mousing skills. "That's awesome!" is what I heard the most accompanied by the manly guffaw.
We were talking in the living room, he standing in the middle of the room, me on the couch, when he looked over and his face became a study in astonishment. As I looked at his face and wondered what in the world could surprise him so much, I heard, "Eek! Eek! Eek!"
"Was that a....?" before I could finish my question, Doc sprints forward and opens the basement door. Apparently, the cat had her snack in her mouth and accidentally dropped it. The mouse had scurried underneath the basement door.
She's a good mouser, but she can't walk through walls. Doc opened the door for her, but, of course, the mouse was gone. We weren't worried, though. We knew it was just a matter of time.
This morning, Doc tells me that he found the dead mouse in Grumpy's room. It hadn't been eaten this time, but looked pretty banged up. She must have had fun playing with it and didn't look happy when Doc picked it up and put it in the trash.
Our kitty has gotten a taste for mouse and has been prowling around looking for more snacks. Well, I say, "You can run and you can hide, but you cocky mice have met your match. You go, kitty."
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