So I'm chatting with my dear friend in Ohio this evening. I've not chatted with her for quite some time and I really fancied talking with her. Thankfully, she was home and had time to talk for quite some time with me. As we were talking about some issue she had going on in her life I noticed Chloe (the beautiful 8 year old calico cat) playing with something in the hallway.
I caught a glimpse and feared that I knew what it was. It wasn't the shape of any toy we own. Nor was it the material of any toy we own...
No, my huntress (it is a name we gave her for her mad insect hunting skills back in Kansas), she'd caught and killed herself a mouse.
In the middle of the conversation, Reagan was saying something that escapes my memory now, I blurt out:
OH DEAR LORD! OH DEAR LORD! OH DEAR LORD!
She asks what. To which I have to try to calmly tell her that my cat has a *gulp* new toy that we didn't bring into the house and give to her. Reagan proceeds to laugh her ass off at me (she lives in a much more rural place than I and has had many a run in with much larger rodents). She reminds me that she was much better than I was when she called me in the middle of her night when she had a run in with a possum. That was a fun night...
Josie doesn't get into the act until Chloe takes her toy, running away from the crazy woman who is chasing her with their pooper scooper (like I'm going to A. touch a dead mouse with my hands (...hush mom and dad that was a loooooooog time ago); B. touch a dead mouse with any utensil that we actually use to consume ANYTHING). I call Josie off and am thrilled and happy I work so steadily with the "leave it" command. Chloe, not so much about the leaving it.
Keep in mind, the entire time, I have my friend laughing in my ear hysterically.
I get it and then, then I have no clue what to do with it. Reagan tells me to fling it outside. I am not proud to say that that is what I did. Sorry little mousy. Thank you for giving your life so my animal could have something to keep her occupied when I was not home.
Shudder.
3 comments:
mr puddins, all 24 lbs of him, barley lifts a paw to play with toys.. and yet he has been known to occasionally become this physics-defying BLUR of speed to sweep a finch from the sky... he's managed to drag 1 or 2 into our home over the past 2 years now.
He does luv to play with them... most often they're not dead, only traumitized. (they roll easier back and forth that way apparently)
He becomes suddenly 15 lbs, animated and LOUD when we try to pry the feathered victim from his claws of doom...
either way, he prances around the house and shows off his skills by attacking Maddie for about an hour afterwards...
what a goof.
TGIF!
yeah, this mouse...it was D E A D.
i'm thankful for my little huntress, but a bit freaked out by the idea of having to do it all again if more have the dumb idea to sneak into the house that has a killer loose in it.
Huzzah! What a thoughtful person you are dear daughter. Who else would be kind enough to call a friend in Ohio to bring her up to date on the hunting skills of a beloved pet. You know, Chloe only did it because she loves you.
Sorry that your mother and I traumatized you concerning the "dried" mouse. Mice are not necessarily our friends. They do serve at least one purpose, prey for cats.
Take care.
Love,
Dad
Post a Comment