A Mouse in the House

By Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

         The other night I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water before going to bed.  Our cat, Spooky, was in front of the refrigerator, his black tail swishing back and forth.  I leaned down to pet him goodnight, when in a flash he dashed across the kitchen floor, apparently seeing something I had not.  In a manner of seconds, he was standing before me, a kangaroo mouse in his mouth, the little critter’s fussy tipped tail dangling precariously from our pet’s mouth.
            Now, you have to understand, Spooky is an indoor cat.  He adopted us several years ago when he, a thin and thirsty feline was venturing down the steps of our new (not yet finished) swimming pool for a drink of water. (There were only several inches of water in the pool at the time). It was the dead of summer, and in Arizona that means temperatures which often exceed 110 degrees F.  

Spooky the Social Feline

            He wasn’t just after a drink; he wanted company. If we were having a BBQ he’d stay in our backyard hanging out under our feet. Eventually he moved indoors, refused to go back outside again, got fat (over 20 pounds) and had his front claws removed. (To those of you who think that is cruel, it was either the claws or a return to the outdoors.  The little darling had a habit of sliding down our black Jeep parked in the garage, leaving a nasty trail of claw marks.  Since coyotes frequent our neighborhood, we figured it was the best choice.)
            Anyway……
            Although Spooky lived for the first year outside, I don’t believe he was much of a hunter.  Not only was he very thin on his own, he never seemed to have much of a killer instinct.  I remember one time (when he was still outdoors) when a bird hit the window and fell to the patio just feet away from the cat.  We thought, “That poor bird is a goner.” Fortunately, for the bird, he cat didn’t seem very interested.

Spooky Plays a Game of Catch and Release

            And so, as Spooky stood in the kitchen, with the tiny rodent in his mouth, I wondered…how do I get the mouse outside?  I didn’t have the option of opening the door, because I couldn’t risk our cat going outside.  We simply have too many coyotes in our area, and without front claws, our kitty could suddenly become the prey instead of the hunter.
            For some silly reason I decided to usher our cat (with mouse) to the garage.  Apparently, Spooky was of the catch and release persuasion and let the creature go.  The mouse hurriedly scooted under the refrigerator.
            It was late, I was sleepy, and so I decided to deal with it in the morning.  Not wanting to have our cat re-catch his prize and bring it to bed with us, I went to our bedroom and closed the door behind me.

Surprised the Mouse Survived

            The next morning, I asked my husband if he could go out and look for “mouse parts.”  When I was a child, our outdoor cats would eat their prey, leaving behind disgusting little, cleanly licked, body parts.
            There was no dead mouse (or parts) to greet us, yet now, Spooky was focusing on the couch.  We snatched up our cat, closed him in our bedroom, opened the front door and began moving the couch.  Sure enough, the little mouse was there.  It seemed easy enough; simply chase the mouse out the open front door. 
            Yet, the mouse had other ideas.  Instead of making a quick left and making a hasty exit, he turned right, scampered across our tiled floor and scooted under our bedroom door. To the very room where the cat was waiting!!  (Not the brightest mouse in the world.)
            We now had the cat and mouse under our bed. We didn’t hear a lot of commotion.  Whatever the cat and mouse were doing under the bed, it certainly wasn’t frantic or frenzied.   After a while, the cat seemed bored and went out to the living room, and sat nonchalantly near the entrance to the dining room.  I asked him “What kind of a hunter are you??? Where is the mouse?”  At this point, I wasn’t sure where the critter had scampered.
            After a while, the cat returned to under our bed and my mother decided to have a look.  Sure enough, there was the cat, with the mouse once again in his mouth.  And again, he did a catch and release.  (Spooky was definitely enjoying this game).
            My husband used the broom to get the cat from under the bed and I tossed him from the bedroom, and shut the door.  We opened the sliding door leading to our patio, once again tempting the rodent with the freedom of the great outdoors.  I wasn’t about to let the mouse make the wrong turn again, so I piled our bedspread near the base of the door leading to the hallway.

The Mouse Wants the Cat (Or so it appears!)

            The mouse was behind the end table, between the bed and the wall with the sliding door.  Seemed like an easy thing to once and for all, chase him outside.  As I sat on the bed, I leaned back the end table, and brushed the frightened mouse (I assumed he was frightened, yet I was beginning to think he and the cat were messing with us) with the broom.  He scampered from the table, yet instead of taking the easy way out, once again took the longer route and headed for the folds of my bedspread. 
            My husband felt compelled to smack the mouse with the broom…smacking him into the bedspread.  I asked him to please, do not squish the mouse in our bedspread….and yep…once again the mouse slipped under the door, leaving us (and the freedom of the outdoors) for the room with the cat.
            This time the mouse dashed into the hall bathroom.  I am happy to say, it was in this room that my husband was finally able to capture the creature.  Our cat had wandered into the other room and failed to see us make the catch and then take the mouse outside. (The mouse was unscathed….not a single puncture or bite mark).
            When we left for work, Spooky was sound asleep. The poor little guy was exhausted, having spent the previous night hunting.  Yet hours later he woke up, returned to our bedroom and sat beside the end table, certain his “toy” was where he had last left it.