This morning I was just about to hop in the shower. I was still a little asleep so when Aili busted through the door, shouting her face off, I almost had a heart attack.
“MOM! SOPHIE CAUGHT A MOUSE!”
We own a 100+ year old house. The mice don’t come in to the living area of the house, but I am pretty certain they live in the back shed. Last fall we put a cat door going from the kitchen to the shed so the cats could go out there and eliminate the mice. It’s been a little too successful.
Dripping wet from the shower, I followed Aili to the living room. There was Sophie, playing with her catch. The mouse she caught was a fat, brown mouse. It was still alive and absolutely terrified. Sophie, on the other hand, was esctatic. She had a new friend to torture. She was batting the mouse around, letting it scurry away drunkenly, and then capturing it again and nibbling on it.
I considered being a strong, independent mom. I could totally catch that mouse in a glass or something and throw it outside.
Or I could go back to my shower and let my husband take care of it.
My shower was wonderful. And when I got out, the mouse had been disposed of. That was perfect.
The only problem is that now we have a small cat sitting under the table, glaring at us and pouting. She is super ticked off that we stole her new friend.
Get over it, cat. You will, I’m sure, find another one. It is spring, after all.