April: A Tale Of A Furry Mouse Killer.
I believe my cat is going fine. That said, I am planning on taking her
to the vet tomorrow afternoon as she is currently AWOL and the vet
closes in half an hour (I was really hoping I could have said T-minus,
but I couldn't sadly). I was nice and went and bought her some new meat
- different meat, this one is supposed to be healthier kangaroo meat
than the regular kangaroo meat she usually eats. She also lost her
collar and that means she had no bells for two days.
I'll put things in perspective before I begin this story, at the foot of my bed is a stack of cardboard boxes. Behind the cardboard boxes is my sliding mirror which is in turn my closet.
I woke up at three this morning to hear April scratching on the boxes, trying to get something wedged in between the mirror and the boxes. I thought, ok, playing a game this early in the morning, she can't be sick. I flicked on my light and asked her, hey, pudding, what're you doing? She looked at me and said*, hey man, there's something down there.
So I leant forward, picked her up and gave her a little hug. She purred like she always does. It's not an affection thing, I don't think my cat has any affection for me at all, but she purr's all the time and that's fine by me. I couldn't see anything, so my assumption was she went and killed something during the night and brought it into my room - she has done it before and whilst I've been pleased with her rabid animal slaughter (only of rats and mice may I add, no birds or lizards) I've yet to get her into the frame of mind that no, Dad does not want to see what you killed tonight.
In other instances she's left the dead rat/mouse in her food bowl, in Mum and Dad's shower, in the fish tank, in the sink, but mostly she likes to leave them next to the toilet. That does make it seem like we have a major rat problem, we don't, we just live near a large lake and have an aviary out the back.
I digress.
I was telling her how awesome she was, and she was saying to me how she needed to get down there man. Now. Pronto tonto! I said, ok pudding, lets see what's there.
I opened up the sliding mirror and out shoots this mouse, I wasn't able to guage the right size of it, but I'm guessing it was about six centimetres long. Off shoots April out after it and around the corner.
Pelting down the hallway following April and the mouse are Lucy and Fergus, the commotion has awoken them and they're off. I hear a loud squeal and I know the mouse has bought a one way ticket to Stomachville. Who's stomach I'm not too sure.
I get up and go to see the fate of the mouse, but April's gone, Fergus is licking himself, and Lucy is wagging her stump of a tail. I know the mouse died because there was blood on the floor, but there was no mouse. Alas, I think one of the dog's ate it, which if that's the case, then that's A-OK.
Now, as I said before, I'm pretty sure April's fine, but I'll take her to the vet tomorrow to make double sure she is.
*For the point of the story, my cat will talk. I realise your cat may not talk, but your cat is not as cool as my cat. Because, she's mine. And she's cool. End of point.
I'll put things in perspective before I begin this story, at the foot of my bed is a stack of cardboard boxes. Behind the cardboard boxes is my sliding mirror which is in turn my closet.
I woke up at three this morning to hear April scratching on the boxes, trying to get something wedged in between the mirror and the boxes. I thought, ok, playing a game this early in the morning, she can't be sick. I flicked on my light and asked her, hey, pudding, what're you doing? She looked at me and said*, hey man, there's something down there.
So I leant forward, picked her up and gave her a little hug. She purred like she always does. It's not an affection thing, I don't think my cat has any affection for me at all, but she purr's all the time and that's fine by me. I couldn't see anything, so my assumption was she went and killed something during the night and brought it into my room - she has done it before and whilst I've been pleased with her rabid animal slaughter (only of rats and mice may I add, no birds or lizards) I've yet to get her into the frame of mind that no, Dad does not want to see what you killed tonight.
In other instances she's left the dead rat/mouse in her food bowl, in Mum and Dad's shower, in the fish tank, in the sink, but mostly she likes to leave them next to the toilet. That does make it seem like we have a major rat problem, we don't, we just live near a large lake and have an aviary out the back.
I digress.
I was telling her how awesome she was, and she was saying to me how she needed to get down there man. Now. Pronto tonto! I said, ok pudding, lets see what's there.
I opened up the sliding mirror and out shoots this mouse, I wasn't able to guage the right size of it, but I'm guessing it was about six centimetres long. Off shoots April out after it and around the corner.
Pelting down the hallway following April and the mouse are Lucy and Fergus, the commotion has awoken them and they're off. I hear a loud squeal and I know the mouse has bought a one way ticket to Stomachville. Who's stomach I'm not too sure.
I get up and go to see the fate of the mouse, but April's gone, Fergus is licking himself, and Lucy is wagging her stump of a tail. I know the mouse died because there was blood on the floor, but there was no mouse. Alas, I think one of the dog's ate it, which if that's the case, then that's A-OK.
Now, as I said before, I'm pretty sure April's fine, but I'll take her to the vet tomorrow to make double sure she is.
*For the point of the story, my cat will talk. I realise your cat may not talk, but your cat is not as cool as my cat. Because, she's mine. And she's cool. End of point.