Apr. 30: “Tell me about the rabbits, George”

This post starts with a warning: Loveliest Lori, consider not reading it.

When I came downstairs this morning, the cat was trying to work her way behind a storage box on a shelf under my desk. She had already pulled out one box and dumped it over—of course, it was the one full of miscellaneous USB cables, cords and chargers, and messy as could be—and wouldn’t stop meowing at whatever she thought was behind those boxes.

I ignored her. Millie frequently meows at spots she wants to get into, thinking they’ll be good places for a snooze. I used to move things out of her way and she’d jump into the spot, sit down for three seconds and jump back down, then find another place at which to meow. I got tired of rearranging the furnishings for her, and she has, for the most part, stopped asking.

But this morning she wouldn’t let up. She kept trying to squeeze in behind the boxes, meowing and crying and scratching, no matter how much we told her to stop. Finally, Victor pulled a large box off a shelf and she sat in its place. We thought she was satisfied and got back to the busy-ness of our morning.

Not a minute later I heard Vic yell GOOD GOD! and I looked over toward the sliding glass door, where I saw a little mouse running along the frame with Millie close behind. Mice don’t bother me—in fact, I think they’re adorable—but I certainly don’t want random ones running around loose in my house. However, mice give Vic the heebie-jeebies and he immediately started to find something with which to trap it. We both watched as Millie chased it back and forth along the window frame, and when they moved away from it, he made the smart move of opening the sliding glass door. The mouse was all THANKS, DUDE! and hopped right out (super cute-like, if you ask me). Millie was right behind, of course, and as soon as Vic closed the door again, she picked up the mouse and scratched to be let back in.

HELLO??? I WANT TO PLAY WITH MY TOY INSIDE, VIC!

He wouldn’t let her back in, of course, so she took the mouse down onto the lawn, where she played a little  catch-and-release, rolled around and smooshed the little critter. She’s very Lennie Small with her catches, and when Jack did a close-up check a few minutes later he said the mouse was laying in the grass with its feet in the air.

What might have happened:

We have a mouse problem again and Millie caught the mouse inside the house.

What I choose to believe happened:

Millie caught the mouse outside, where she does all her hunting, and brought it indoors to show us. We do not have a mouse problem. We don’t! We don’t!

Whatever it is, we’ve now got one pissed off kitty wandering around the house, crying for her fun toy. The milk jug caps just aren’t gonna cut it for entertainment anymore.

Hey, Lori—coming to our house for a visit any time soon?