Welcome to the House of Mouse

At the sound of my shriek, Trinket races off to parts unknown leaving me with no choice but to follow her.

OK there is another choice. I could let her run all over my house with the mouse and leave it for me to inadvertently step on and instantly drop dead. Not at all appealing.

So, I take to the stairs to the first floor (as opposed to the attic, which was just wishful thinking, really) and flick on additional lights as I go. No chance Scott will return to REM sleep anytime soon.

I get nearly to the foot of the stairs and find Trinket, mouse in her mouth on the center hall carpet, looking like a fleeing robber with his loot. Bat cat.

From upstairs, I hear Scott. “Liza, is it definitely a mouse? You’re sure.”

No, my mistake. It’s a giraffe. My bad. “Yes, Scott. It’s a mouse.”

“Is it alive or dead?”

Now that I can’t answer.

“I don’t know?” I ask like a buffoon.

And with those words, I see a swish of the mouse’s little damp tail, and let out an involuntary, inhuman yelp.

The noise, since not heard in nature apparently, scares Trinket, and she drops the mouse. Who is evidently very much alive and tries its little heart out to run away.

It gets about a paw length away and with one deft, fluid swoop, is scooped up and place back in Trinket’s mouth where it resumes playing dead. It could win a Tony, honestly.

I descend the remaining steps to the center hall and the floor creaks. It is a 100 year old house, after all. And Trinket is off to the races again. This time she’s ensconced under the dining table, between all the pedestals and chair legs, where she is protecting her kill like an animal in the wild.

Scott joins me on the first floor where I am pitting out in the kitchen trying to find a broom, for what that would be worth.

And Trinket and her mouse are on the run once again.

And I have no idea where she has gone.