My cat caught a mouse the other morning. She brought it to me, all proud of her new real! live! toy, wanting to show off her hunting skills. She was making her chirping meow when she’s feeling playful and has “caught” a toy or caught a bug.
Naturally, I didn’t realize it was a LIVE mouse. I’ve been in this apartment for over 2 years now with no evidence of mice or mouse sightings. So I thought it was a toy. I reached down to take it from her, thinking Capri wanted me to toss it (we play “catch”).
And then it twitched in my hand.
It was ALIVE. This was no toy mouse. It was a real live fuzzy mouse she had caught. ::GASP::
Needless to say I dropped it pretty quickly.
The cat resumed her play while I danced around shuddering and chanting “ick ick ick!!” at the top of my lungs and tried not to hyperventilate from the shock.
Once I got over it, I retrieved a few tissues and confiscated the poor creature once again. It was clearly mortally wounded, so I put it out of it’s misery (kinder than letting it suffer), and deposited it in the trash outdoors. And then washed my hands in the hottest water I could stand at least a half a dozen times.
The cat watched me do this while meow-screaming at me, baffled and annoyed that I had taken away her toy. I soothed her with some cat treats and lots of praise for her skills. This was our first live mouse episode in this apartment and the first time she’s caught something other than a bug, and I truly hope it’s our first and ONLY mouse. The bug catching? I encourage it. Praise her for it. It keeps the flies under control in the summer when the balcony door is open. But I can live without another live mouse incident.
Capri now spends at least a few hours each day staring intently under the stove. I’m guessing she’s standing guard against further fuzzy intruders.
Good kitty. That’s my good little huntress. Keep the mouses away.