 | kamylienne (77)
06/10/2006 |  Peaches, my husband's cat, is a first-class mouser. It is in her nature to hunt, and while I try to stop her, I can't get mad or reprimand her for what she's naturally inclined to do. When she's caught mice in the past, I've been fairly fortunate enough to be able to save most of them before she took a bite (I've found that mice can apparently faint due to the shock, and after they recover I toss 'em outdoors with a parting gift of cheese or crackers). She's been freaking out over our gerbil, Sammy, since we've got her.
My cat (who lives with my parents) is a little more controlled. I've secretly kept pet mice in my closet when I was younger (my mom would have freaked out if she found them), and Artemis, one of my favorites managed to escape. In a house with two cats, I figured she was as good as dead. But, the next morning, I heard my mom shriek from the hallway.
I step out to see Pinky, looking down at a very frightened Artemis, cornered by the bathroom door. My cat flips his tail casually, and looks up at me with those goofy blue eyes. He sits back on his haunches, and he's not making a move to touch her. My mom, still flipping out, alternately urges Pinky to kill the mouse and me to do something about it. I pick Artemis up and walk outside, where I slip the mouse in my pocket instead, to later return her to her home.
She never makes any attempts to escape again.
(2 voted this helpful, 0 funny and 0 agree) |
