June 6th, 2007
Mouse Olympics

We have eight cats (or eight cats have us, actually). They’re indoor except that they have a sizable screened-in porch where they can bask in the sun, lounge and be otherwise lazily catlike. They share the porch with two bunny rabbits. (All the fuzzies are rescues, mmmkay?! We just couldn’t say no to them.)

We live in the country. Lots of critters out here, lots of insects and such. The porch is enclosed, but sometimes critters and insects still make their way inside. It’s just part of living in Boondockia.  You see where I’m going with this, right?
Anyway, last evening as I worked diligently on Witch Blood, I heard Wiggle, (the fattest of our cats, but surprisingly the best hunter. I think he’s very motivated by food in general.), meowing with his mouth full. I know this particular meow. It’s the meow that says, I have something rich and juicy and YOU CAN’T HAVE IT. This is the meow I heard moments before Wiggle once dropped a half dead horsefly in my lap. (I’m the mommy cat and therefore eligible for special “gifts”.) This is also the meow I heard when Wiggle dragged a huge lizard into the living room, dropped it wriggling on the floor and thus incited the Great Lizard Olympics of 2005. I remember it well because the lizard…er, okay, I won’t go there. I need more coffee for that.

I freeze, hand hovering over my laptop keyboard.  Wiggle races past, followed by 7 cats with eager expressions on their faces, (eyes bright, whiskers forward, ears pricked). Just as Wiggle disappears down the hallway, I see a gray tail hanging from between his greedy cat lips.

Me: Oh, shiiiiiiit.

So I race off after the pride, following them into the bedroom just in time to see Wiggle taking his yummilicious prey under the bed. I flip on the light, thus jarring my sleeping husband into full sputtering (pissed off) wakefulness and start babbling about cats and mice.

The chase ensues. Up, down, all around we pursued Wiggle through the house followed by the other 7 cats who desperately want a piece of the squeaky action.  FINALLY, we corner Wiggle and make him give up his treat. And get this…the mouse survived!!

In the dark, my husband and I instituted a quick mousie relocation program, complete with a new identity and a lovely brand new home of cut wood logs for the fireplace. We admonished mousie to stay out of the porch. I hope he heeds our warning, though one would think that having a fifteen minute joy ride in a cat’s mouth would be enough of a deterrent.

7 comments to “Mouse Olympics”

  1. He will never dare go near the house again, he will have Wiggle breath nightmares forever. But, I can say this because I would never go near the mouse in the first place. I don’t do mice and Mrs Duck doesn’t do lizards


  2. Hi Anna! Its Cathie. And LOLOL. I have a cat Misha and this winter when it was cold, a couple of field mice from the big empty lot next door, had gotten in and Misha really tortured it, as it was a toy to play with. There was nothing I could do. I was standing on the couch cuz sometimes she wanted to jump on my couch with her ‘toy’ and i’d jump off. I asked hubby nicely if he was coming home for lunch. And he asked why, and I said I had a surprise. He came and took care of the mouse and said “where’s my surprise? I thought you made lunch?” And so he did deserve a lunch after saving me, LOL.


  3. One of my cats was, we suspected, a hell of a mouser. We were proven right last winter when he caught around 20 who’d decided to visit. It was a lovely two weeks.

    But anyway, one night I was on the phone with a friend and the mouser dropped one of his finds in the doorway to my office. It looked dead, so I praised him and went back to talking to my friend.

    Fucker got up and started squeaking.

    Mouse zombie? Just stunned?

    The cat didn’t give me a chance to find out. But I’ve never forgiven him for leaving me a not-dead mouse.


  4. Our best mouser cat, Sushi, brought a half dazed mouse over to our dog, Moose, intent on teaching Moose to hunt. Moose gazed down at the poor rodent and when it twitched promptly rose up on his back legs and stomped on the poor mouse with his front feet. Sushi looked at the flattened mouse then glared up at Moose with a “What a waste of flesh and fur” expression on her face. She never brought him another.


  5. Sounds like Olympics is putting it mildly!

    My cat chose to live elsewhere after The Boy arrived, and I do miss the little dead things on the front porch.


  6. ROFL, wiping tears

    We used to live in an old farm house, and the resident farm cat could often be seen carrying a mouse around, still alive. He didn’t always eat them – he just wanted someone to play with. The mouse wasn’t amused!


  7. Carolyn — I tried to post on your TT, but couldn’t because I can’t remember my Google password. LOL. It was great meeting you this weekend! Wonderful pizza. Mmmm. Hope you come back next year!

    For the rest of you….I’m glad I’m not alone in the travails of dead things. I haven’t posted about how our barn cat leaves mouse hearts (just the heart, mind you. Nothing else) on our front porch for us to step on. Or about how my dog kills all the fledging birds in our back yard *sob* every spring. Damn it.

    There are bad things about living in the country.