Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Life on The Farm 11/11/14: MEOW!

Mike-Mike and Company
The one thing I can count on with four cats, besides the inevitability of hairballs, is that there’s going to be mice: sometimes alive, oftentimes dead.  There’s a hole in the garage that never stays secure for long, no matter how many times it gets stopped up.

I’ve been told that mice are the squeaky toys that don’t need batteries. The odd thing is that I actually have several of those powered playthings, and I can’t tell between real and not when they “Eeep,” which makes for some interesting hide-and-seek-out around the house.

Only one type leaves the poops and bloodstains; I’m not one bit sad it when I discover a tail and some fleshy bits in the living room.  
Cat and Mouse
I’m all for the insect-killing felines, and the occasional chipmunk thumbing its nose at the cats through the storm door.  (They really hate that – and bang loudly on the glass).

I’ve got into the habit of leaving my husband Dan sticky notes– “Dead mouse here” (arrow), “Live mouse under counter,” “Chipmunk in basement”.

The last smooshy blood trail through the dining room lead to under the couch – and may have been the result of the cat flipping the mouse in the air and trying to catch it.

Recently, Mike cat brought in a live one, played with it until he was panting (he’s a tad pudgy) - and they both took a breather less than four inches apart.  I couldn’t have that!

I took up the vermin pursuit with a stainless steel pot, closely followed by Mike, who kept sweeping the mouse away before I could trap it.  I wasn’t going to squish it – too messy.

I lost track of them both until Snow cat started pointing like a hunting dog at the workings underneath the fireplace.
Snow Cat
When Dan came in, he propped opened the access panel and said, “Quick, give me your shoe!”

I recently purchased novelty rabbit slippers and I wasn’t going to let him go all slappy with my bunnies.

I handed him a flyswatter.

“Seriously?” he said, and gave me THE LOOK.

“Just do it already!”


“What do you know? It’s dead…”

He used the swatter as a spatula to – give it a domestic ocean burial.

“Don’t come in here! I’ve never had a mouse bleed so much, it’s everywhere!”

I guess that’s proof he loves me, because he took care of that, too.

Max Gets Photobombed!