A Game of Cat and Mouse

I know how this has happened. It is exactly how it happened before. Last time, I was having some work done on the house and there was an exposure...and we all know how our little cheese-eating friends love to come indoors to play. Now, Scott is working on converting my fireplace to something efficient not just pretty and we have another exposure. This time when the weather is turning cold. I may as well have sent out invitations.

But what strikes me about this situation is Trinket's calm demeanor. She is not crouched and ready to pounce. She is not flat-eared and swishing her tail. She is not puffed up with her fur out to appear more menacing to her prey. She appears bored. Not even curious. I swear she just yawned.

The mouse, poor little thing, is anything but bored. He is the size of a ping pong ball but I can see his dramatic huffing and puffing from the next room. Even without my glasses.

I am torn. I want the mouse to be gone from my house but am not sure whether I prefer that it be dead or just outside. I just need it to be decisively gone.

I go upstairs and calmly tell the kids the situation. Pat could not care enough to climb from his bunk but Hil wants a front row seat. I grab my phone and call Scott. For what purpose I am not sure. Moral support.

I tell him what is happening without taking my eyes from the cat and mouse. I think I know what the back story is.

Trinket did not come to bed last night because she spent the the entire night chasing and batting around and "playing with" her fun new friend. I am sure she found it most entertaining, running blindly around the basement fearing for its life, playing hide-and-seek, scrambling away at the last moment while Trinket gives chase. Oooh what fun!

And now Mouse is exhausted and too pooped to "play" and Cat is bored with it. As this thought fires across my brain Trinket takes a swipe at the mouse to get it going again. It scurries a little and she bats it around briefly, but the mouse is moving too slowly to be any fun at all. The end of the fireworks display. Last call. The last verse of a great song. Bummer.

Scott is an animal lover. He is most sympathetic to the mouse. He suggests that I get a bag and maybe a box lid and flick the mouse into the bag and take it outside to let it go.

I still think I'd prefer that Trinket just put it out of its misery but I realize that could take all day. And I don't have all day and I am not leaving the house with the mouse in it.

I tell Scott that I was thinking I'd get my broom and sweep it out the door. With those words Hil leaves her perch on the lower steps and trots off to find the broom. Scott is skeptical; that could be a lot of brooming.

I tell him that with my luck, flicking the mouse into a bag will not go as simply as planned and I could see an errant flick landing the mouse on my arm or my hand or GOD FORBID in my hair, and Hil and Pat would have the horror of watching me drop dead on the scene to deal with for all eternity.

Scott tells me to do what I think is best and be careful. I hang up to have the use of both hands.

Let the games begin.