I Apprehend a Mouse

Adult male has been cleaning the lower level of the house, removing what he calls junk, and putting gray paint on the floor.  Fortunately, it is a light gray color, which is an advantage for those among who are interested in the creatures who may live in the lower regions -- what my human friends refer to as the "basement."

The light gray color is perfect for showing off the darker gray hues of the mice who occasionally can be found there.  Not that my ever-sharp eyes and nose are failing me -- I have not become a senescent cat -- but all assistance is appreciated when it comes to mousing.

The other benefit of the cleaning efforts is that they upset the creatures, whose sad little homes are destroyed by the removal of the junk.  They run about, looking for their former nests in vain.  That means that they are vulnerable to attack.

Last night, for example, a very small mouse ventured into the human-occupied portion (for humans -- I can live anywhere, of course) of the basement.  Although I was resting on one of the battered chairs that comprise the furniture in the lower level, I am always alert to possibilities.  My keen nose  picked up the scent of the creature immediately, and I was off.  To hounds! (as my English relatives might shout).

I was but a few seconds apprehending the creature, which was quite young, and very sleepy.  I carried it upstairs gently, as I did not wish to harm it further and thus limit my pleasure.  Some cats are quite good at delayed gratification, as the humans call it.  Mistress does not think I am one of them, I can tell.  Little does she know!

I placed the creature upon the carpet so that it could recover a little.  However, I kept a very careful eye upon it, in case it had any thought of escape.  My intense focus caught the eye of Mistress, who observed that I was "On the prowl."  She clearly did not see the creature at first, whose dark gray fur blended nicely with the navy blue pattern on the carpet.

Once both humans had become aware of the creature, I pounced in order to display my prowess.  It was surprisingly fast for one so young and injured. Adult male wanted me to play with it, but Mistress thought that was "inappropriate."  What a stupid word.  "Inappropriate" for whom?

In any event mistress took hold of a plate with a handle -- I've heard her refer to it as a dustpan -- and scooped up the creature, opened the door and tossed it into the night.  Adult male, who appears to appreciate my abilities in this area far more than Mistress, gave me some kibble as a reward for mousing.  I do not think he fully appreciates why I like to catch mice.  Housecats chase mice for the thrill of the chase, not the meal that may or may not appear at the end.

However, I am always grateful for any contribution, so I pounced on the kibble as if it were a mouse and made short work of the few pieces that he put on my platter. He seemed pleased and referred to me as a. "Good little mouser."  It was a demeaning comment, but his heart is in the right place.

Guest Post: "The Cat's Diary"

Mitzi here, after a long silence.  I am sharing with my readers a column I found that speaks to my worldview.   As Eugene V. Debs famously said, “If even one cat is in prison, I am not free.”   Enjoy.  

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Guest post by an unknown and incarcerated cat

 “The Cat’s Diary--Day 983 of my captivity:

“My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dancing objects.  They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets.  Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

“The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.  In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.  Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet.  I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities.  However, they merely made condescending comments about what a ‘good little hunter’ I am.  Bastards !

“There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight.  I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.  However, I could hear the noises and smell the food.  I overhead that my confinement was due to the power of ‘allergies.’   I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

“Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking.  I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

“I am convinced that the other prisoners are flunkies and snitches.  The dog receives special privileges.  He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return.  He is obviously a flunkie.  The bird must be an informant.   I observe him communicate with his guards regularly.  I am certain that he reports my every move.  My captors have arranged protective custody for him an elevated cell, so he is safe.  For now…”

The last time I had the opportunity to write, master and mistress left me for 10 days.  This time they have abandoned me for what seems like ten years. They have left put in the care of all three young masters, who have rationed my food severely.

However, when mistress returned briefly, she spoke so glowingly of my svelte physique that I am not as upset as I might have been.  However, she and adult male have departed again for Hungary -- which is what I am most of the time! I hide under the huge bed occupied by mistress and adult male, longing for the day when they return and are once again in charge.

Abandoned cat -- for a while

Mistress and adult male have left me alone, with one of the young masters in charge. Need I say more? The feeding schedule has become erratic. Moreover, there are strangers in the house -- men and women using loud instruments and banging around in rooms where I used to enjoy a short nap. Mistress consults regularly with them when she is here, discussing matters such as wall paper and tile, things I know nothing about but am certain will change my lovely routines.

And the young master has threatened me with Bobo. I long for mistress and adult male to return. They are going to a place where the noble word "cat" is mocska. I wonder where that is?

All Hallows Eve

Mistress has prevented me from venturing into the evening air. This is strange, because she normally seeks to put me outside, even in the most dreadful weather. Tonight, however, she is sitting by the door with a large bowl of pretty wrapped up shapes -- and small persons (and some bigger ones) keep approaching the door and yelling, "Trick or Treat". A very odd custom. And why I cannot venture out to enjoy the cool evening breezes escapes me.

But it is most gratifying when I hear these oddly dressed children say, "What a pretty kitty", although one boorish young man made rude comments about my girth. Mistress gave him only one piece of the candy (as I now know the pretty shapes are called).

Household visitors

I can finally rest. Adult male brought someone he called his oldest friend into the household. That would have been acceptable, if the oldest friend had not been accompanied by a young man who picked me up, chased me around the house and generally made my life quite miserable. This youth, who I believe was the son of the friend, was a particularly handsome lad. However, his behavior did not match his beauty, and I was forced to spend two days hiding under the large bed occupied by mistress and adult male. The young gentleman and his father departed today, en route to a place called Omaha. I wonder if there will be felines like myself there for the young man to pester.

On a much brighter note, master and mistress have a boarder. This man, who apparently lives in a place called China, has not lived in a household with a cat of my stature before. Because he is so impressed with me, he feeds my frequently when adult male and mistress are away from the house. He is particularly susceptible to my charms, and when I cry and wrap myself around his legs, he always gives me a treat. This bodes very well.
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Tranquil Cat

Adult male wonders why I haven't written anything recently. Partly, of course, my lack of communication is due to the relative tranquility of my existence. There have been no small cats in the household, and I can easily deal with the neighborhood visitors who come to check the bowl that the lady next door leaves outside. These visiting cats are far too friendly, accepting petting and admiration from almost anyone. They need to learn the value of aloofness.

The only event of note is the fountain that one of the young masters gave to mistress for mother's day. Because the water is constantly moving, it tastes much better than the bowl that is left for me each day. I make sure that none of the neighborhood cats visit the fountain; I want the water to be pristine when I feel the urge to drink. So far, my vigilence has produced the result I desire: no cat fur besides my own appears in the water.

Left alone!

Mistress and adult male have left town, engaging their youngest offspring to feed me. He is a highly unreliable young man, arriving in the dark of night, long after I have resigned myself to dying alone and hungry in an empty house.

Boots

My tranquil life has been disrupted once again. Young master's kitten -- she who visited one week ago -- has returned. Apparently she was unable to live with the other young master's cat, Bobo and the cat of his lady friend, Claude. Of course, I could have told them that it would not be a good match.

I was just beginning to recover from her previous visit and regain my tranquility when she reappeared, running and jumping and, like all young cats, failing to appreciate my dignity and seniority at all. However, unlike Bobo, this one does keep her distance, so I am not forced to injure her to make my position clear.

Her name is Boots. She looks exactly like me, only 15 pounds lighter. I have heard mistress speak favorably of the young one's tail, which is long and snake-like, in my humble opinion. Boots spends many minutes of the day playing with her own tail, as if it were an independent entity. What a silly beast.

And because I am now constantly on guard, I have been unable to enjoy the pretty dangly things that have been placed on the green tree which was brought inside the house.

Disaster!!

I have heard mistress talking with one of the young masters about arrangements for the forthcoming holiday. Apparently the youngest offspring now owns a kitten, called Boots and Pants. He is worried about the period when his companions will be away from the apartment where they live, visiting their own families. He is the only one whose family lives in the City of Lakes (or so I have heard it called on the voice box that mistress leaves for me when she departs the house).

Because young master will also be leaving the city after the turning of the year, he has suggested that Boots and Pants should temnporarily live at my house. This is a terrible idea. And it is quite possible, based on her name, that this new young feline will be the twin of the lately removed Bobo -- she of the pantaloons and mane.

I cannot bear the thought of a new interloper. Fortunely, it should be for only a short period of time. Mistress is already drawing up plans for segregating the visitor from my wrath.