Brave Little Mouse

About once a year my cats catch a mouse. Grey little field mice, the city version. There is a hole in the wall and being that I am only a half floor high above the ground and have only a parking garage underneath, it is more than probable a mouse would find it’s way in. They have found their way in, to the great delight of my tabbies, sometimes as many as five of them (two are now in St. Francis Garden). Though I take no delight in having the tabbies catch and dismember the little things, it is the way of things, perfectly natural. I winced when Tiggy caught a hummingbird last year. I stopped myself from wanting to yell at her, and instead made myself praise her. The cat, is the world’s best mouse trap. God already won that contest.

All three were extremely vigilant on Sunday, they took turns parading in front of that section of the wall by the kitchen, one stood guard and the third would nap nearby. None of them were available a lap kitties for the duration. They’ve always caught a mouse when this pattern starts, always. They allowed the dog to partake in the hunt. He would shadow Tigger, the doyenne of this particular pride of striped cats. She may be adorable, but she is also fierce. NO one would doubt her resolve and single mindedness. She has one other quality , a bond greater than what I’ve ever seen in other cats, she loves her human master so much that whenever he has had to go to the hospital she loses a full flank of her pretty long hair, stayed in his room and lost lots of weight, and I think she blamed me for his extended absence (I am the convenient pissing post).

Sunday afternoon, early on she had the mouse, under the dining room table and then lost it. The brief flash of flying fur showed the mouse not to be one of those little gray field mice but a little white mouse. The kind the pet stores sell to feed to your predatory pets such as snakes and other reptiles.

It is adorable, white, and so-oo tiny. Neither the cat nor I could spot the little ball of white fur and went back to other things. Well I went to other things the cats were still relentless in their pursuit. I made a small cage and put it nearby with a little food inside. I am not sure why I did that, except perhaps the respect for the fight the little thing put up to get away, first from the animal which had planned to make the mouse his lunch and again with the cats.

Monday non, my son tripped and knocked over the recliner and underneath, behold the mouse. All of us every car, do and man after a mouse not more than a inch and a half without the tail. Momentarily my son had it, then the cats and then it got away, again.

At night while making a cup of coffee I noticed that Tiggy again had her prey in her mouth. I called over my son. I could not bear this brave little mouse give it’s life now to some well fed cats. The dog and cats other than Tiggy respectfully gave way to my son. He slowly crouched by Tiggy’s side, stretched out his hand and asked, calmly “may I have it please?”

She gave him the mouse. Quickly the Tiggy was put in a colander and a tray was put overtop. Now where to put it. MY apartment is small and very few surfaces left to put anything. Let alone a mouse that every cat want to lay claim on. so I took little mousey outside on the balcony and set it under the fountain. The running water would mask any sounds mousey might make. On the tray I put a fairly heavy pot of mint to disguise the scent of mouse. None of the animals were wise to what I had done.

The hunting party, Tigger in particular were heavily praised and given lots of treat. All were satisfied. I managed to put in the colander with the mouse a little dish with assorted treats, a bit of tortilla, some lettuce and a blueberry (which it immediately took a fancy to,the berry was as big as its head).

Yesterday I, together with my X bought little mouse a cage food and water bottle for about 35 dollars. The mouse is now living la dolce vita. Well deserved I think, for having such a strong desire to survive that it can only be considered as sentient as any cat or dog. It is my pet. I’ve called it Trillian, those fans of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy might know why, and those who do not should read Hitchhikers Guide, it is a must read. The mouse now resides in his tiny estate on the shelf with the book in which the meaning of life has more to do with mice than men.

aletta