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hellisonSome of you were privileged to hear this drama as it unfolded last night. Others, however, missed out. So here is my tale of cat and mouse...
There I am, relaxing of a sunday evening in my tidied (relatively speaking) house, having shoppped, made dinner and even put up curtains with linings without any major disasters, not bad given that generally I am as domesticated as the average feral cat.
So yes, relaxed - 0k, slightly stoned - feeling slightly smug about domestic achievments and just about ready to go to bed and test out the new blackout linings (no more orange glow from the streetlights, yay), when in comes one of the cats. Complete with little furry bundle and tail hanging out one side.
In a flash gone is the self-possessed, independant Modern Woman, to be instantly replaced by a crazed Irish version of the woman from Tom and Jerry cartoons, complete with shrieking and flailing brush.
Cat, rather bemused by all this, retreats under desk and proceeds to bat the apparently dead furry bundle about, hoping for some sport. However this is all spoiled by maniac Woman With Brush, so she is forced to keep picking it up and running about. Not out the door again OH NO just round the room.
Eventually she gets as far as the kitchen, drops it and legs it out the cat flap. I am summoning up the courage to scoop up the dreaded deaded mouse when IT TWITCHES.
Cue VERY hasty retreat back to the living room. Luckily cat returns, grabs mouse and flees once more.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I head for the pc, thinking stabbing someone will calm my poor shattered nerves. And, of course, whats the point in having TRAUMAS if you can't tell people about them? Particularly people on the internet, who are of course just waiting to be told such things. HI INTERNET!
Cat reappears, still with furry new friend in mouth, but she has thought better of it and ran out again by the time I manage to ask for advice on (one) (hey, I wasn't thinking straight! I was in the grip of TERROR) and grab the brush again. Phew.
However, being a persistent little monster she returns once more, so the flailing commences yet again. Cat retreats, with me following, and disappears out the cat flap. YAY I think, turning round to see TEH MOUSE lying on the living room floor, looking very dead. Oh Dear.
So naturally I return to teh internet while summoning up the courage to move the little fucker, since all of *you* are far too selfish and inconsiderate to live anywhere nearby where you might be able to be of USE in a time of crisis rather than just laughing at me.
Ahem. Anyway. Some minutes later, courage all screwed up, I go to fetch dustpan and brush and return to spot where mouse was. Note WAS.
IT HAS GONE.
OMFG Now what do I do?
Well of course the only thing I can do. Panic to people on t'internet (hi![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
littlebluefish) then go to bed. Making sure all doors are firmly shut and barricaded so it can't climb up stairs during the night and eat my brains. Don't tell me they don't do this. I KNOW it wants my lovely brains.
So now somewhere in the livingroom - or possibly kitchen by now - there is a MOUSE. LOOSE. Roaming free and hiding in corners. Or possibly, since it was a bit chewed, dying slowly under the sofa where it will stink the place out and have to be scraped off.
Or we have the alternative just suggested by a co-worker. It *was* dead and I have an evil ZOMBIE MOUSE with fangs and claws and beady little eyes burning with the fires of hell who really will want to eat my JUICY BRANES as I sleep.
WOE :/
And yes I know it is a tiny thing, unlikely to do me any real harm, but they make my skin crawl and bring out primal urges to stand on chairs and scream heylp heylp.
Oddly enough its only mice in the house that do this. Outdoors - fine. In my feed bin at the stables - sure, I know they're there, as long as they don't leap out and attack me, I can live with it. In the house? Gibbering wreck. Though I have progressed to the point where I can remove the dead ones without having to get the brother-in-law round. Who, I hasten to add, is nearly as bad about them as me, but has to be Manly about it and isn't allowed on the chair.
I suspect this evening I am going to have to Do Something about it, like check under the sofa and poke about in corners. I wonder if I can rope anyone in for Moral Support...
ps the blackout linings were great.
There I am, relaxing of a sunday evening in my tidied (relatively speaking) house, having shoppped, made dinner and even put up curtains with linings without any major disasters, not bad given that generally I am as domesticated as the average feral cat.
So yes, relaxed - 0k, slightly stoned - feeling slightly smug about domestic achievments and just about ready to go to bed and test out the new blackout linings (no more orange glow from the streetlights, yay), when in comes one of the cats. Complete with little furry bundle and tail hanging out one side.
In a flash gone is the self-possessed, independant Modern Woman, to be instantly replaced by a crazed Irish version of the woman from Tom and Jerry cartoons, complete with shrieking and flailing brush.
Cat, rather bemused by all this, retreats under desk and proceeds to bat the apparently dead furry bundle about, hoping for some sport. However this is all spoiled by maniac Woman With Brush, so she is forced to keep picking it up and running about. Not out the door again OH NO just round the room.
Eventually she gets as far as the kitchen, drops it and legs it out the cat flap. I am summoning up the courage to scoop up the dreaded deaded mouse when IT TWITCHES.
Cue VERY hasty retreat back to the living room. Luckily cat returns, grabs mouse and flees once more.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I head for the pc, thinking stabbing someone will calm my poor shattered nerves. And, of course, whats the point in having TRAUMAS if you can't tell people about them? Particularly people on the internet, who are of course just waiting to be told such things. HI INTERNET!
Cat reappears, still with furry new friend in mouth, but she has thought better of it and ran out again by the time I manage to ask for advice on (one) (hey, I wasn't thinking straight! I was in the grip of TERROR) and grab the brush again. Phew.
However, being a persistent little monster she returns once more, so the flailing commences yet again. Cat retreats, with me following, and disappears out the cat flap. YAY I think, turning round to see TEH MOUSE lying on the living room floor, looking very dead. Oh Dear.
So naturally I return to teh internet while summoning up the courage to move the little fucker, since all of *you* are far too selfish and inconsiderate to live anywhere nearby where you might be able to be of USE in a time of crisis rather than just laughing at me.
Ahem. Anyway. Some minutes later, courage all screwed up, I go to fetch dustpan and brush and return to spot where mouse was. Note WAS.
IT HAS GONE.
OMFG Now what do I do?
Well of course the only thing I can do. Panic to people on t'internet (hi
littlebluefish) then go to bed. Making sure all doors are firmly shut and barricaded so it can't climb up stairs during the night and eat my brains. Don't tell me they don't do this. I KNOW it wants my lovely brains.So now somewhere in the livingroom - or possibly kitchen by now - there is a MOUSE. LOOSE. Roaming free and hiding in corners. Or possibly, since it was a bit chewed, dying slowly under the sofa where it will stink the place out and have to be scraped off.
Or we have the alternative just suggested by a co-worker. It *was* dead and I have an evil ZOMBIE MOUSE with fangs and claws and beady little eyes burning with the fires of hell who really will want to eat my JUICY BRANES as I sleep.
WOE :/
And yes I know it is a tiny thing, unlikely to do me any real harm, but they make my skin crawl and bring out primal urges to stand on chairs and scream heylp heylp.
Oddly enough its only mice in the house that do this. Outdoors - fine. In my feed bin at the stables - sure, I know they're there, as long as they don't leap out and attack me, I can live with it. In the house? Gibbering wreck. Though I have progressed to the point where I can remove the dead ones without having to get the brother-in-law round. Who, I hasten to add, is nearly as bad about them as me, but has to be Manly about it and isn't allowed on the chair.
I suspect this evening I am going to have to Do Something about it, like check under the sofa and poke about in corners. I wonder if I can rope anyone in for Moral Support...
ps the blackout linings were great.
