It’s mouse season. I know this, as the cat I live with keeps telling me by bringing mice in the house. I don’t have a mouse problem: I have a cat problem. Maybe you can relate.
Bryan has been living with me three years. I first saw this handsome cat outside, panting under the carport. I knew he was suffering from the heat, as cats don’t pant unless they are extremely hot. He stole my heart right away.
I started to give him water, then tuna, and I invited him in to rest in the air conditioning. Bryan thoroughly inspected my apartment, every nook and cranny, and decided it was safe to be inside. Soon, every time I came home there was Bryan expecting to come in. He finally decided it was his home and was soon meowing to come in and out at all hours. So I installed a cat door, which leads us to my current mouse problem.
Last Thursday was my cleaning day. I am expecting company from out of town next week and wanted to give the house a good going over. I bent over the couch to do something when the smell hit me: something ghastly and rotting. I quickly went outside and was struck by the hot desert heat and became ill. Back inside I knew what I had to do, and that was to find out what was under the couch.
I pulled out one end of the couch and there was Mouse No. 1. It didn’t really smell at all, seemed like the regular run-of-the-mill, dehydrated small animal that I occasionally find.
I did my regular disposal of putting the mouse in a small baggie, and into the trash it went. I moved out the other end of the couch, and there under my shoe bag was where the smell was really coming from: Mouse No. 2. Luckily, my shoe bag was closed, and a good scrubbing of the outside of the bag took care of it. The plastic cover of the bag caused the mouse to rot rather than dehydrate. Hence the horrific smell.
I had left a bag on my living room floor last weekend, and I picked it up to put away in the bedroom. There was Mouse No. 3. Really, Bryan? I added Mouse No. 3 to the trash bag with the others and took it outside to place in the bin. I found headless Mouse No. 4 on the stairs on my way out, added it to the trash bag, and carried them out to the bin.
I finished my cleaning, checking the whole house for creatures. I really didn’t want to look under my bed, but I did, and it was bare. I then went to bed, waking early, about 4 a.m. That is when Mouse No. 5 was brought in through the cat door by my dear Bryan. Mouse No. 5 was still alive, and Bryan thinks it is the best game ever to have Mommy chase a mouse around the house with him. With human assistance and a broom, Mouse No. 5 escaped through an open door to the patio.
People often get a cat to help them get rid of their mouse problems. But I have seen too many mice this week. I came home yesterday to a little set of mouse-size kidneys attached to a tail on my living room floor. Maybe because it’s especially hot outside, Mr. Kittypants is bringing his toys inside.
Lynnora Gilbert lives in Phoenix, AZ, where she has cohabitated with her cat, Bryan, for four years. She works the night shift as a nurse in a local hospital and enjoys snuggling with Bryan during the day.
We’re looking for purrsonal stories from our readers about life with their cats. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org — we want to hear from you!