Mice, mice, baby

[Victor]

This afternoon I was sitting at the dining room table typing on my notebook PC (even as I am now), and my orange tabby cat TJ turned up.

With a mouse.  Which he promptly dropped right next to me.  The damned thing ran across my bare feet.  And I, naturally, Manly Action Writer that I am, flew straight up into the air squealing like a little girl.

Teej immediately began patrolling back and forth by my legs, bumping my shins, which was his way of pumping his fist in the air and going, “Yeah!  Who da cat?  Who da cat?”

It's odd:  he's normally the sweetest person of any species I know.  But of course he had to torment the poor mouse by letting it loose, whapping its little mouse head, catching it in his jaws again, and so on.  Sometimes the genes take over....

Of course, he was so busy being a jerk that he let the damned thing escape.  Fortunately he didn't seem to have done it any serious injury.  I hate to see things suffer.  I wouldn't mind seeing the mouse die.  Just not suffer.

None of this has prevented TJ from strutting around the house all afternoon like he's the King Lion Tiger God of the Entire Cat Tribe.  Twit.

[Victor]

Mouse update:  the mouse is dead!  Long live the mouse.

So long as he stays outdoors.

Came back this evening from a trip out to find the fugitive mouse, or at least a mouse, dead on the floor by my chair at the dining room table (referenced in the early post.)  I don't know for sure whether TJ finally did the deed, or his sister, Squeak. 

He certainly has been inviting me to admire him since I got home.  So I have my suspicions.

[beebs]

Mouse update:  the mouse is dead!  Long live the mouse.
So long as he stays outdoors.

I must say it reminded me of cats at the farm
letting the cats to catch the mice and rats.

Don B.

[Victor]

I must say it reminded me of cats at the farm
letting the cats to catch the mice and rats.

Don B.

Yeah.  I appreciate the kitties' utility on the fortunately rare occasions when mice get inside. 

I appreciate it less when they want to share their triumph with Daddy.  Such as being wakened during a mouse invasion last Fall by Squeak standing on my chest, joyously holding a dead mouse an inch above my nose
Ferrets used to be kept in barns to keep the rodents down too, by the way.  I'm a huge ferret fan, though I have none right now.  In the past I've noticed that mice almost never come into the house when there are ferrets.  Cats are much less of a mouse deterrent.

[GunsSaveLives]

I must say it reminded me of cats at the farm
letting the cats to catch the mice and rats.

Don B.

Yeah.  I appreciate the kitties' utility on the fortunately rare occasions when mice get inside. 

I appreciate it less when they want to share their triumph with Daddy.  Such as being wakened during a mouse invasion last Fall by Squeak standing on my chest, joyously holding a dead mouse an inch above my nose

Squeak was offering you breakfast in bed. That's true love.

[GunsSaveLives]

I must say it reminded me of cats at the farm
letting the cats to catch the mice and rats.

Don B.

Yeah.  I appreciate the kitties' utility on the fortunately rare occasions when mice get inside. 

I appreciate it less when they want to share their triumph with Daddy.  Such as being wakened during a mouse invasion last Fall by Squeak standing on my chest, joyously holding a dead mouse an inch above my nose

Squeak was offering you breakfast in bed. That's true love.

I talked about this with Bill last Wednesday night - he's got two cats himself.

He told me that Squeak's intended message is that you need to eat more, and that she's willing to help.

Remember that mice are mostly protein, and thus Atkins-friendly.

[Victor]

Squeak was offering you breakfast in bed. That's true love.

Y'know, you may have something there.

It is actually a fairly major gesture for a successful predator to offer its prey to another.

[Victor]

I talked about this with Bill last Wednesday night - he's got two cats himself.

He told me that Squeak's intended message is that you need to eat more, and that she's willing to help.

Remember that mice are mostly protein, and thus Atkins-friendly.

And there you have it, to quote the late Brandon Lee. 

Speaking of Atkins, I need to get seriously Atkins-friendly for a while myself, shed some weight.

And speaking of protein....

Squeak can be a somewhat ... trying little creature.  Or a total bitch.  Depending.  Mostly on how circumspect I happen to feel.

But now I have four words which ought to reduce her to utter abject meekness:

Fangji Cat Meatball Restaurant.

Mmm.  Sure good eatin'!

[GunsSaveLives]

Squeak was offering you breakfast in bed. That's true love.

Y'know, you may have something there.

It is actually a fairly major gesture for a successful predator to offer its prey to another.

Victor's got a girlfriend   

[Victor]

Victor's got a girlfriend   

Naw.  I'm her Daddy.  Not into that incest thing.

Although, depending on the outcome of my application to adopt a wayward 19-year-old Brazilian supermodel....

[kbarrett]

She's noticed that you are in incompetent hunter, and need instruction.

You are supposed to kill and eat the mouse.

[Victor]

She's noticed that you are in incompetent hunter, and need instruction.

You are supposed to kill and eat the mouse.

While she's right, of course, I must point out that when she brought me the mouse, it was already deceased.

TJ, meanwhile, is acting as if he's on the trail of his wily & deadly prey again.  So things might get lively around here.

[GunsSaveLives]

Just to be on the safe side, maybe you should keep a bottle of Tabasco sauce in your nightstand?

[Victor]

[Cartman voice]
God dammit!
[/Cartman voice]

There's a mouse been living in my kitchen, whom I've been encouraging the cats to assassinate, it seems, the whole holiday season.  It's a wily mouse, who's managed to elude them, while eating Emma Dog's pig ear treats and crapping on things.

I'm sure you know where this is going.  Once again, here I sit at the dining room table, trying to write my novel.  And heeere's TJ, with a new little friend, racing all around my legs.

At least I've got my house slippers on this time.

It's a substantial mouse.  Naturally TJ can't just kill the wretched thing.  He has to catch it and let it go so he can chase it some more.  Round and round my legs.

Emma would very much like to participate.  She lies at the edge of the dining room looking most interested.  I presume she's holding back because it would be an unforgivable crime against hierarchy to presume to chase her Beloved Pack Senior's personal prey.  Dogs take their hierarchy seriously.  (They're, let's face it, fascists.)

Or she may fear he'll just destroy her.  He weighs about 10 pounds; she perhaps 85.  But she's well intimidated by the cats.  (Of course, in Squeak's case, she's wise to be afraid.  Very afraid.)

Anyway, now I  fear that TJ has lost the damned mouse.  Twit.

[PhotoKirk]

I've found that mice have no chance against a shop vac.