We have mice.
We have a cat.
The mice seem to be, disgustingly, everywhere.
Our cat? Useless.
I had noticed Penny paying particular attention to a shelving unit in the living room. I investigated, and found a mouse cowering underneath. Poop everywhere. Super. I flushed the mouse out and it ran toward the front hall. Penny ran after it and they spent the next five minutes going back and forth between the front door and closet.
The mouse broke free and made a dash for the powder room. Penny kept going back and forth between the front door and closet.
I grabbed the cat and threw her in the powder room with the mouse and shut the door. I figured it was a good way to show her where the mouse had gone.
Forty minutes later I opened the door, and of course, the mouse came flying out and ran right back to the shelves in the living room. Penny stumbled out a little while later looking dazed and wandered back over to where the mouse was holed up. Well, at least she's trying.
The mouse then darted across the room. I yelled "Penny, Penny, mouse!". She looked at me, stunned. I grabbed her and ran with her at waist level while continuing to yell.
The "chase" eventually ended in my bedroom where the baby (Henry) was
sleeping watching a bat-shit-crazy display of mouse hunting. This is very funny in baby-land, just so you know.
Now I have a mouse running around my bedroom, pooping everywhere, a stunned cat who is half watching/chasing the mouse and half watching me because I am crazy, and a baby on the bed laughing hysterically. Probably also pooping.
We (I) chased the mouse all around the room, around and around for what seemed like an eternity. Under the bed, up my legs, in the closet, behind the chair. I'm yelling like a mental patient, Henry is chortling, Penny is mostly crouching by the door. I came very close to catching it several times. Considering I am a human and not a cat, I considered this somewhat of a win. A plan began to emerge.
Time to get serious.
I took Henry out and put him in his
circle of neglect exersaucer and turned on the TV. Yeah, I suck, whatever. Penny tried frantically to leave the room, I pushed her back in. I gathered some supplies. A flashlight, a long stick, a wastebasket.
Then I did the following about 56 times.
Locate mouse under bed using flashlight.
Flush out toward Penny with long stick.
Chase around with wastebasket.
Finally, finally the mouse is cornered. Trapped him under the wastebasket using a highly technical maneuver involving the stick, a picture frame and a book.
I slid a piece of cardboard under the wastebasket. Took the contraption out to the deck. Flung the mouse over the railing. Now, I don't know why I did this. I guess I knew I couldn't physically kill it, but why I thought flinging it was okay, I do not know. Well, it landed directly below me (I never claimed to be a good thrower of live rodents...and really, who wants to be?), looked up at me and I swear, gave me the finger (claw?). He shook himself off and scurried toward my house. Of course.
Final Tally -
I spent the next hour putting my room back together - somehow the mattress ended up off the box spring...curious, and cleaning up mouse poop. Penny spent some time sulking around looking defeated, because, well, she knew. In her sweet little cat-heart, she knows she is just not a mouser.
But at least she's pretty.