The Great Man-Cat-Mouse Adventure

It started out, quite literally, as a game of cat and mouse. It ended up a case of male bonding. Oh, I haven't told you about my cat, have I? Sorry about that. You already know the dog -- he selects the driver's seat whenever he can beat me to it. Well, the cat is the dog's best buddy and a mouse's worst nightmare. This morning, around four thirty, the nightmare was loose in the kitchen.

Sounds of shuffling, banging, and well, pouncing, roused me from sleep, so naturally, I went to investigate. The cat took one look at me and dashed for the bedroom -- he doesn't usually do this, I thought. When I caught up with him I discovered he had a mouse in his mouth. "Put it down," I commanded sleepily, and he did. Carpe diem, the mouse must have thought, because he promptly ran off. So began the Great Man-Cat-Mouse Adventure aka Morning Male Bonding.

First, the mouse dove behind the dresser, so I moved it, and the cat followed. Then the little guy (or gal, I have no way of knowing which) raced past us both, behind the door, out into the hall, and then back into the kitchen -- the cat on his tail and me on the cat's. From there, it was under the love seat, around the dog food, over the recycling, around the trash can, back under the love seat, followed by a maddening sprint to the other side of the room. All the while, I'm coaching (like I'm an expert), "Over here, he's over here -- look!" The cat, no doubt, thinking, "Will you please shut up? I used to do this for a living, remember?"

At this point the dog decided to enter the fray and while quickly escorting him to the bedroom I couldn't help but wonder who would show up next. The Ringling Brothers?

Back in the kitchen, the mouse either became suddenly cleverer or simply desperate, because he slipped under the refrigerator. With the cat pacing back and forth along the base, I proceeded to try to move it. No, I didn't throw my back out -- that would have been a sight. But the fridge is in a cubby hole and there's not really any way to slide it, especially when it's full, and especially not at 4:30 AM, and certainly not enough to allow the chase to continue.

So, I sat down on the love seat and the cat and I commiserated (male bonding time). "I guess there's not a lot I can do," I said, "it's up to you now." Clearly pondering his options, he continued pacing back and forth, then stopped and stared at the base of the fridge, growled, and walked over and rubbed my leg. Not quite the high five I expected, it was more like "that'll do, Pig."

And the mouse? As far as I know, he made good his escape. This time.

(Image via Wikipedia)