Cat & Mouse

Per usual, something terrifying happened in my house recently. BUT, believe it or not, it didn’t involve bugs!

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Who, me?

This time it involved my cat, Albus, and another four-legged creature. Yes, you guessed it; it was a mouse.

I was working from home one Friday afternoon, minding my own business, enjoying the sunshine streaming in through the windows. The door in the basement was propped open, so that Nellie could go in and out as she pleased (i.e. so I didn’t have to get up every 2-3 minutes to let her out).

Over the summer, we bought a magnetic screen door for this purpose. It was an excellent solution, but there was no way to keep Albus from also going outside.

People have different ideas about kitties and whether they should go outside; Albus does (now), but thankfully he doesn’t go far. He likes to hang out in my neighbor’s bush, and if he hears any loud noises, he comes running back inside.

Thus, on the day in question, Albus was also going in and out through the magnetic screen door.

Again, I was working along, rocking out to the Hamilton soundtrack when I noticed Albus was playing with something near my feet. I looked down, assuming it was a leaf or something, and noticed that it was furry.

“Oh, he found a toy,” I thought to myself, and then I looked down at Albus lovingly (as I usually do) and remembered that he doesn’t really have any toys. And that this toy that shouldn’t exist had a tail.

“Albus,” I said slowly, “is that a mouse?”

He looked up at me like, “What the hell does it look like?”

That’s when I started screaming. That’s also when Albus ran away.

He ran into the laundry room and hid under the sink. I did two things: I grabbed a broom to try and shoo him outside, and I grabbed my phone to send photographic evidence to my husband.

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See the little tail poking out?!

Albus was not amused by this. To spite me, he lunged for his litter box. He hopped on top of it and dove into the crawl space. (The laundry room and crawl space are connected, and there’s a small space where the edges of the walls don’t quite meet. Albus loves it because he can sneak into the crawl space to escape Nellie, other visiting dogs, or small children.)

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What seemed like an eternity passed. I went back to my desk and tried to work, but all I could think about was Albus and the mouse. I kept getting up and peering into the crawl space, calling his name. He ignored me.

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I was getting really worried, and feeling a little irrational…

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Then, when I’d started to give up hope that Albus would ever come out…

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“It” refers to the mouse, not Albus. He’d had it in there so long I thought for sure it’d be dead. Nope.

In that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disgusted– both, really. Of course, in this delicate state, I started shouting again.

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Albus was not happy to hear more yelling, so he ran away. Further into the house. Which encouraged me to yell louder. I chased him and the mouse upstairs.

Albus ran into the spare room and immediately slid under the bed. I shined my flashlight on him and calmly stated something along the lines of, “ALBUS STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE  THAT’S REALLY GROSS BRING IT OUTSIDE RIGHT MEOW!!!!!!!”

I nudged the bed with my knee to try and startle Albus out. No dice. Then, I pulled the bed away from the wall. Nada.

I really had to pee, so I walked out of the room, shut the door to keep them inside, and went to the bathroom. When I came back, Albus was no longer under the bed. Rather, he was crouched down just in front of it. He wasn’t moving. I couldn’t see the mouse.

I gulped and asked, “Albus, did you lose the mouse?” He didn’t even look at me.

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I was starting to think the mouse had gotten away. Albus hadn’t moved for a long time, and was staring at the dresser. I poked my broom under the dresser, but nothing happened. I moved it over a little, and still nothing.

I turned to look at Albus, “Where is it?” I demanded.

He looked up at me like it was my fault he’d lost the mouse.

I sighed and went back down to the basement. I decided not to tell my husband just yet about the possibly-loose mouse in our house.

I’d just gotten settled at my desk when I heard some commotion.

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Albus came flying down the stairs, past me, and out the back door. I ran over and shouted, “Did he get out?”

Nellie came down to see what was going on. “I think the mouse escaped,” I told her. She looked briefly out the door and went back upstairs.

I carried on with my day– I finished work and went out for a drink with a friend. Steve woke up, we had some dinner, and then he went to work. (He was gone a lot that day; I think he’d worked a double and then had to work again that night.) I settled myself on the couch for the evening to watch some Netflix.

At some point, Nellie rang her little bell to go outside. (Yes, that’s a thing– it’s called the Go-Go Bell. It’s amazing.) I went downstairs to let her out, and I found… this…

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Yes, that is a decapitated mouse.

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Wasn’t that so nice of him to leave it for me there? And, of course, Steve wasn’t home, so I had to clean him up!

It was a traumatizing experience, but I didn’t want to discourage his instincts– I’d rather him trap and kill a mouse than allow it to live in the house– so I told him he was a good boy and gave him some pets. But honestly, I still can’t look at Albus the same way.

Oh, and the head never turned up…

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But he’s still a handsome-cute-good-boy!

Ok guys, there’s gotta be some good stories out there– what sort of “gifts” have your pets brought you?! Cat & Mouse

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43 thoughts on “Cat & Mouse

  1. LOL! I loved this story. My older cat Harley once got a mouse that had gotten into this drafty old house we lived in. Both my roommate and I were at work or out or whatever. Harley ate the top half and left the bottom half for us.

    Maybe Albus decided to share the bottom half with you?

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Oh, your old pal Precious used to bring me mice all the time in the old house! She would drop them at my feet as I came down the stairs in the morning. Frightening, but like you, I wanted to encourage her to kill said mice. Gram gave me the best advice for cleaning them up, “Throw an old rag over it, sweep it in the dustpan, and throw it out!” Wise, wise woman, Gram.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. My puppy is a mouser! I saw him playing with what I thought was a piece of wood- I would tell him to leave it and he’d listen- I didn’t check. Then one morning I saw him run back to the “stick” to find out that it was squished and had a tail. Bleh. At least he didn’t bring it in the house.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. This really made me laugh out loud! Luckily our cats are indoor only and being on the first floor presents of mice don’t exist…

    However… we did have a few spiders. The worst that happened is our girl putting a big hair spider on my lap. 😦

    Liked by 1 person

  5. LOL! That is a great story! Zoey’s first reaction to catching something is to bring it in the house to play with it. She brings LOTS of lizards (I have a special little box for scooping them up to put outside), once a live chipmunk. Those little buggers are FAST! Once it was a tiny baby mouse, and I rescued it before she killed it. Then there was a bird, and it escaped and got under the refrigerator. Had to have husband intervention for that one, because it was injured and wasn’t going to make it. I can NOT kill tiny things.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. My cat has done this soo many times. He isn’t good at killing mice. He just brings them inside and lets them go! Marc and I are well trained to put a bowl over them, and slide paper underneath (like you do with spiders) so we can put them back in the garden.

    Have you heard of Toxoplasmosis? I think Monty can only catch mice that have that! The parasite makes the mouse not scared of cats anymore, so they walk right over to the kitty!

    If Monty is holding something in his mouth that is dead, then I just pick him up and throw him outside. Then, I don’t unlock the cat-flap until i can see he isn’t holding an animal.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Cats do like to eat the heads, unless they bring them to you as gifts! One of our cats, Schnitzle, caught his first mouse when he was about 15 years old. He didn’t know what to do with it, poor guy, but he had fun catching it.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. My little feline beastie once brought a live bird home. Coming through the cat flap with it’s head in his mouth, and it’s wings flapping and tiny little feet scrabbling for purchase on his chin. I was disgusted and told him to take it back outside and let it go. He refused. He let it go in the conservatory, and then raced around said conservatory trying to catch it again, while I tried to shoo it with a towel, back out through the now wide open door and windows. The daft bird was so terrified it tried to fly through the walls and the kitchen door, which I’d closed, and stunned itself, falling to the floor, where the beastie pounced on it, just as I did. The beastie was not happy to be thwarted by me, and was none too pleased at being forcibly removed from the bird by the scruff of his neck, and shut in the kitchen. I managed to wrap the bird in the towel, and took it outside and placed it over into the neighbour’s garden, so my beastie couldn’t get at it, giving it a chance to recover. Unfortunately, it never did. Five hours later I found it dead half a yard across the neighbour’s garden. I climbed over to get it, and buried it in my garden, marking the grave with a lollipop stick cross, and a tealight candle. I informed the beastie that live gifts were unacceptable, and if he brought another into the house I’d be making cat soup.! 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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