Last week the mouse got away and I promised myself that if it ever came back I was going to be ready. There would be no more lying around waiting for an opportunity, this time I was going to take action. This mouse was mine.
Sunday night he made the worst decision of his mousey little life. I was relaxing on my blankie cleaning my paws when I heard that unmistakable sound of yes, you guessed it, mouse paw upon wood. I was no longer Dynamo, fluffy kitty extraordinaire. In that instant I became GrrrKitty, king of the house jungle.
I was off the bed in under ten seconds , just in time to see him race across the hallway and take cover under the bag of Goodwill bound items. I scooted quickly on my tummy across the carpet and took my position.
About that time one of my people noticed my fierce stance. “That mouse must be under this bag.” he said, always quick on the uptake. He lifted the bag and the mouse was on his way. And I was right behind him. He raced into the bedroom, under the dresser and then under the computer desk. I couldn’t fit in any of these places! It was maddening, I laid flat on my belly and stretched my paw as far as it would go, but nothing. He was cowering in the corner and there was nothing I could do.
Then I had a brilliant idea. I could climb behind the useless box thing my person calls a computer and grab him from behind! It was an idea so brilliant even I was amazed! I almost made it when one of my people shrieked and pulled me away saying “You’ll tear it up!”. Well, wasn’t that the whole idea here?
I was a little upset. I had the mouse within my reach and she wouldn’t let me get him. Eventually she turned her head and then I made my move. Behind the box thing, kicking and tearing my way through the wires I pursued Mr. Mouse. Just as my person reached for me again he ran under the bed. I dodged her and headed after him, but again, I couldn’t fit!
I took up my watch at the foot of the bed. If I had to stay there all night I would. I can stay still for long periods of time, this was not going to be a problem. Then I heard the glorious words every GrrrKitty longs to hear. “She killed my mouse!” This sounded like good news to me, why was she so upset? Surely even she couldn’t have become attached to the mouse.
When I looked around I realized the cause of her distress. I had killed a mouse all right, but it wasn’t the one I was after. It was the other mouse, the mouse attached to the box my people call a computer. Now you have to understand, the only thing more important to her than this box is cheese. And I have learned not to mess with either one.
I realized this was a good time to slink away and have a nap. I mean, the mouse could wait, there’s always tomorrow. I didn’t want to hear her whine and complain while throwing glares my way. Just as I was leaving the bedroom I heard a snap. No, I thought. It couldn’t be. First the washing machine claims my mouse, now this. There was a commotion as my people gathered around the closet. They opened the door and there he was. Mr. Mouse, little paws up in the air, dead in the trap!
I couldn’t believe my luck. The second time I have a shot at a mouse and it gets away. I am just hoping word of this doesn’t get out, I’m sure I can count on you to not spread this around. How could I ever face Willow or April again? It’s bad enough they prance by my window with their catch of the day, laughing at me because I have two bird roommates that I’m not allowed to eat!
This will not end my quest for a mouse. I might even go on that diet to make myself more agile, I could maybe fit under things next time. Kick boxing or maybe even belly dancing might be worth a try. The next time a mouse struts into my neighborhood I’ll be more than ready. And this time, I’ll kill the right one.
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