Last night around 12:30am, I realized I forgot to take some medicine, so off to the kitchen I went. Tis the time of year when field mice seek warmer shelter for the winter, and we leave a back door open to allow our dogs to go outside (to do their thing) whenever they want. This usually means we get a mouse or two in the house every fall. No worries, the cats generally make quick work of them.
Well, there it is... a mouse in the kitchen. I grabbed a pan and went after it, hoping to bash the little sucker's head in. One of my cats joined the chase. "Cornered, I got it into my office and shut the doors leading out. So began 45 minutes of close calls with a desperate mouse fleeing for its life. The cat, of course, wanted to play with the mouse rather than finish it off quickly. This, of course, resulted in numerous occasions when the mouse was finally in the open to receive a killing blow from me, but the cat interferred and kept our little cat and mouse and kitchen pot chase going a bit longer.
In all the chaos, chairs being tossed to the side, books being knocked over, etc., the poor ferret (who resides in the office) must have been awaken. The ferret was not pleased, as I learned a bit later. Not pleased at all. I lost track of the mouse for the 20th time in as many minutes, and stood there in my underwear, scanning the room with the cat, wondering where on earth it was hiding. Suddenly, something with sharp little claws grabbed me on my butt through my underwear.
I shrieked like school girl. I thought it was the mouse. It was the ferret expressing his displeasure.
Oh, and later, I crushed the mouse with a computer case, then flushed his lifeless body down the toilet. I won, cat was useless, and the ferret got to go back to sleep.
Well, there it is... a mouse in the kitchen. I grabbed a pan and went after it, hoping to bash the little sucker's head in. One of my cats joined the chase. "Cornered, I got it into my office and shut the doors leading out. So began 45 minutes of close calls with a desperate mouse fleeing for its life. The cat, of course, wanted to play with the mouse rather than finish it off quickly. This, of course, resulted in numerous occasions when the mouse was finally in the open to receive a killing blow from me, but the cat interferred and kept our little cat and mouse and kitchen pot chase going a bit longer.
In all the chaos, chairs being tossed to the side, books being knocked over, etc., the poor ferret (who resides in the office) must have been awaken. The ferret was not pleased, as I learned a bit later. Not pleased at all. I lost track of the mouse for the 20th time in as many minutes, and stood there in my underwear, scanning the room with the cat, wondering where on earth it was hiding. Suddenly, something with sharp little claws grabbed me on my butt through my underwear.
I shrieked like school girl. I thought it was the mouse. It was the ferret expressing his displeasure.
Oh, and later, I crushed the mouse with a computer case, then flushed his lifeless body down the toilet. I won, cat was useless, and the ferret got to go back to sleep.
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