No ordinary cat

I have a mouse in the house. I’ve known it was here for a while now, but I’m just reluctant to put a trap out and then have to dispose of a wee mousie body. This sounds more like a job for a cat. A cat doing what a cat is programmed to do bothers me much less. Cats are supposed to drop mouse delicacies at your feet (or on your pillow, as the case may be). And then we praise them for being very good kitties.

Unless you have a cat like mine.

Our little house mouse likes to use the baseboard heaters as safe transit tunnels for getting from here to there. It makes little scritching noises against the metal in the evenings and fascinates Abbie completely. She sits and waits and waits and waits for the mouse to arrive. She runs back and forth with the mouse as it travels in its tunnel. It is, I believe, the best part of her day.

Until....

Last night Abbie sat by the baseboard heater in the living room monitoring the mouse situation. This has been going on for several nights now. I’m sure the mouse is aware of activity beyond its metal walls and, finally, curiosity overcame caution.

A little mouse face popped out of the side of the baseboard heater right beside Abbie. The mouse looked at Abbie and Abbie looked at the mouse. Abbie wheeled on a dime and tore upstairs as if all the forces of hell were after her. I don’t know what the mouse did. I chased after Abbie to see what in the world was going on with her.

I found her hiding under the sofa in the lad’s bedroom. With eyes as big as saucers. She was scared to death. Of a mouse. What a cat.