Sunday, July 15, 2012

that secret place where no one dares to go

Despite appearances, she really is an efficient and ferocious mouser.  Just not in the house, it seems.

The Spousal Unit had gone to bed, and I was just about to start a late-night Skype session with the OFKAR when a movement, a shadow in my peripheral vision, caught my attention. Nothing.  But then it happened again, and this time I saw the little grey mouse dart under the armchair that I usually inhabit.

Naturally I freaked out a little.  In our last house, built about 100 years ago, we went through one winter in which a few mice got inside.  I accepted it as part of living in an old house, and besides, our aging cat was sadly clawless   But in the 14 years we have been in this house, we have never had a mouse.  It felt very much like an invasion.

While the OFKAR watched with great amusement via Skype (and called out helpful statements like put a bucket over top of it), I enticed the Slightly Retarded Kitty into the house and hauled her downstairs to the family room, to deal with this situation, which was clearly her responsibility.  Although she protested and tried to leave to go up to the kitchen for a snack, she was intrigued to see me lift up one side of the 800 kg armchair, only to reveal a mouse-free and very dusty carpet.  And then she promptly lay down under the armchair.  

I could hear the OFKAR snorting with amusement as I tried to shoosh the cat out with one arm while holding up the increasingly heavy chair with the other, in order to avoid crushing the oblivious cat.

Eventually I went to bed, without the SRK having any clue that one of her favourite snacks was cavorting somewhere in the house.  Shortly after I fell asleep, a strange noise awoke me, and I recall thinking that sounds like aluminum pie plates. 

In the morning, I knew where that sound had come from - the oven drawer.  This time, I called in the big guns.  With the Spousal Unit armed with a broomstick and with me armed with a mixing bowl, we opened the drawer and saw movement.  As we carefully removed roasting pans, the SRK appeared at the screen door, and the Spousal Unit picked her up in a half-Nelson and carried her over to the oven drawer.  Naturally, hind legs careening, she freaked out, thinking that we were going to stuff her into the oven.  

Eventually, the Spousal Unit and I trapped the critter and he arranged for it to meet its maker, while I washed the hell out of everything in that drawer, all without assistance from the most ferocious mouser either of us have ever known.  She still has no idea that there was ever a mouse within the house, and that's why she will never lose that nickname.

The end.

11 comments:

Linda said...

Sigh. I want a cat.

mister anchovy said...

Back when we lived at the previous Anchovy World Headquarters, a dumb or suicidal family of mice moved in. Twiggy killed 7 or 8 in as many days and that was the end of that.

~Jen~ said...

omg......ha ha ha

Lesley said...

Good mouser or not, there are likely not enough cats on Earth for me to feel good about going to sleep after seeing a mouse.

We grew up in a house with a huge field behind it and, thankfully, never saw a mouse inside. We had cats, yes, but I never had to make the connection. And if a mouse ran near my feet as I sit and type right now, you will know exactly how I died. (I'm a dramatic wimp, yes.)

Sean Wraight said...

So yours is a pie making mouse?

And you have issue with this?

:-)

P.S. Just a word to the wise, they are all oblivious when they're right under the noses. Can't figure that one out for the life of me.

s

Moxie said...

I would send Henry to help, but alas, he does not have his passport yet.

Barbara Bruederlin said...

A house does need a cat, Linda, although a couple of dogs make a very nice substitute.

Nicely done, Twiggy! Those mice should have known better than to mess with a mouser like that, Mr Anchovy. Perhaps you are right, they were all suicidal.

I can laugh now too, Jen, but at the time I was not willing to let my bare feet touch the floor too much.

If I ever hear of your sudden and unexpected demise god forbid, I will certainly have authorities check for signs of mice near your feet, Lesley.

He's making pies for Jesus now, Sean!
The Spousal Unit said much the same thing as you, that he has known many great mousers who go completely mouse-blind on occasion.

Cats are a nation unto themselves, Moxie, who answer to no border authority. Send him up!

Vol-E said...

Eeek, indeed. Not from fear of the critters themselves, but the destruction they so expertly wreak. Keep a sharp eye out; I hope it was just one!

Barbara Bruederlin said...

My greatest fear was that he had friends and family nearby, Vol-E, but so far so good.

umbrellalady said...

I laughed when I read your mouse adventure partly because it reminded me of the time when I inadvertently brought a mouse home in a case of beer. My mother's cat was thrilled to be able to stay in and do her mousing. She was happily successful.

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Indoor mousing! How luxurious for that lucky cat, Kathy.