the mostly mighty hunter

Long story short; every fall one or two mice get in the house. I wish I could find the dang hole they use. Gross, I know, but we are surrounded by woods, so it’s to be expected. And it’s why we have a cat, the mighty hunter George. Anyway.

A week or so ago we had a bit of late night excitement when George caught a mouse and proceeded to play with said dead rodent in the hall outside Josh’s bedroom door. I guess he wanted to give his boy a present. Damon picked it up with a paper towel and threw it outside.

A half hour later, more commotion ensued when George chased another mouse around the foyer. Do they travel in pairs? Ick. Damon trapped that one in the powder room. Tried to get George to go in and kill it. He wanted to play with it instead so Damon had to kill it himself. ~shudder~ I might have stayed in the next room.

Cut to tonight. Damon left for Florida early this morning. Josh just fell asleep. I am chilling with my crocheting and my Property Ladder on HGTV when I hear a ruckus in the hall. I pretend I don’t hear it. I really don’t want to know.

George comes trotting in with what looks to be a dead mouse. Looks. Did you know mice play possum? I didn’t either. Unless it was just stunned. Anyway, I thought it was dead so I tried to get George to drop it so I could, um, dispose of it. Ew. Only he wouldn’t let go. I should have known then, but noooo, I had to follow him around the house. Around and around and around the house. We have a circular floor plan. Around and around and around. Until! Yes! He dropped it! I can pick it up with this paper towel and…

Uh. It’s tail moved. It’s running. It’s cornered again! Bottom of the stairs! Three way standoff. I dare not move for fear it will run again. Like toward me. George makes his move! And just wounds it. Dude. I’m dying here. Wait that’s the mouse. Dying on my area rug. “Kill it George!” I whispered but George just looked at me proudly as it lay there kicking. And not dying fast enough. ~gag~

Hey Damon. I had to use one of your sneakers to beat the mouse to death. Hope you don’t mind. (And come home soon!)

Then I threw it outside. Of course, George escaped while the door was open. Because I am stupid. I almost let him stay out. Instead I put on shoes and went out in my pjs and got him. He waited for me, in the middle of the yard, proudly sitting next to his prize.

Let me just say, there better not be another effing mouse in this house tonight. Or tomorrow we’re going to a hotel.

My evening was Awe. Some. How was yours?

George says his evening was just fiiiine.

Mouse breath better not try to snuggle with me tonight either. Just sayin.

Comments

7 Responses to “the mostly mighty hunter”

  1. magpie on November 4th, 2010 10:21 am

    Aw, he’s just a cat. Doing what cats do.

  2. stinky the garbage truck on November 4th, 2010 3:38 pm

    I hate finding mice in my place, I’d rather have a cat helping than no cat at all

  3. Life As I Know It on November 4th, 2010 4:23 pm

    Sounds familiar – except replace cat with dog. We’re surrounded by woods too and they try and get in over the garage into the house. ICK.

    Hope you don’t see anymore mice!

  4. Amira on November 4th, 2010 7:07 pm

    Oh boy, although it sounds like a bit of a nightmare, it was still funny to read!

    Go George! That’s a real cat doing what millions of years of ingrained instincts are telling him to do.

    Also, he is one handsome cat.

  5. Nicole on November 4th, 2010 9:08 pm

    I’m sorry for laughing when I read this… ok, not really! 🙂

    If you need a place to stay, I know my house is rodent free because the pest control guy just told me so!

    Good luck tonight!

    tee hee!

  6. Stimey on November 4th, 2010 9:39 pm

    Oh, man. I LIKE mice and even I was freaked out by this. I’m impressed that you were able to beat it to death. I don’t know that I could.

  7. mumma boo on November 6th, 2010 8:45 am

    I’m very impressed with your skills – when we had mice I mostly acted brave in front of the kids, making a big show of trying to chase the little ickball out of the house, all the while doing the heebie-jeebie dance on the inside. *shudders*

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