1:38 p.m. - Mar. 05, 2002
Eek!
Just walked in the door. When I saw my meow, he was acting weird � all hunched over, concentrating on something. (What does a cat have to concentrate about?)
Sprocket normally runs towards the door when I get home. This time, however, he ran away from the front door, and dashed under the house. My meow is mostly wild, so he spends his days outside (his choice, not mine).
When I got home, I left the front door wide open (just long enough to get cat food for Spooky). Spooky is the resident Byrne Street cat. The girl that lived here previously always fed this cat. When she left, she didn�t opt to bring this cat with her. So, I�ve assumed feeding responsibilities for this cat. Dave and I named it Spooky because it gets �spooked� really easily � not exactly a lap cat. More of a �feed me, don�t touch me� cat. (Well, that�s my version of the naming of this cat.) Dave�s version, I think, would be that the cat is just freaky-looking, a bit Spooky. No one is really sure if this a boy-cat or girl-cat. No one has gotten that close to it.
Anyway, back to my story.
I left the front door wide open, but just for a minute. In this short span of 20 seconds or so, my meow came running into the house, still all hunched over, concentrating. He was on a mission.
Then I saw why. He had a BIG mouse in his mouth. Not a rat, just a mouse, but a big-ass mouse, just the same. Sprocket ran past me and dropped the mouse on the floor. Good, I thought, it�s dead; I can just scoop it up with the dustpan and be done with it.
But no, the mouse wasn�t dead. As I approached it, it jumped up and ran. Towards me. I�m not normally one of those women that screams at tiny little mice. Or even the really big ones. But, this one was in my house and it was still alive. I imagined it running through my house, crawling into some tiny little place, and dying. And then stinking. And me, having to hunt down this dead mouse, and trying to get rid of the dead mouse smell. I also imagined my cat ripping its head off and little mouse guts going everywhere. Either way, I didn�t exactly welcome this little furry creature into my home.
Ok, so I am now standing on top of my rattan ottoman, in the middle of my living room, directly in front of the (still open) front door. I�m calling Adam (yes, I somehow think that he can help me, all the way from Florida). I get his voicemail and I actually leave him a message, asking him what he thinks I should do about this little predicament. And I stand there, waiting for some neighbor to walk by, to see me, and wonder what the hell I am doing. What the hell does it look like I�m doing? I am standing here, on this ottoman, trying to convince my cat to pick up its little mouse friend, and carry it back outside.
Sprocket is having the time of his life. He�s throwing the mouse up in the air, practicing his catching technique. His eyes are WIDE. He�s thrashing around like some crazy cat on speed. Now what? I can�t stand here all night. I definitely don�t want this mouse crawling into my walls and dying. Great, now the mouse has crawled behind my backpack. What if he crawls into my backpack, with my clothes?
Ok, I have to do something. (Did I mention that I was barefoot?) I get down off of my ottoman, and approach my meow, very cautiously. He sees me. He starts to growl. I take this as a good sign. He thinks I�m trying to steal his mouse. So, he attacks. He leaps towards the mouse and picks it up in his mouth, practically frothing in excitement. I am now threatening him, his territory, and his prey. I walk around to the other side of Sprocket. Then I take a few steps towards him. He is not happy. He growls louder and louder � a very deep growl, one that I�ve never heard him make before. I take a step towards him. He again thinks I�m after his food, so he collects the mouse, hisses at me, and runs out the front door.
Problem solved.
