mouse.jpgLooking back through history, it’s easy to see why people kept cats. It wasn’t because they come when you call them, sit in your lap when you need comfort, or eat leftover food like dogs or husbands do. Nope. It was because they caught mice. People kept them in the barn so it wasn’t overrun with the little grey menaces (although, it was often eventually overrun with kittens) and people even occasionally let them in the house to do their duty, ridding the pantry of unwanted vermin, earning their keep so to speak. I mean, there’s no such thing as a free saucer of milk, right? The cat catches a mouse, the cat gets rewarded with cream. Everyone’s happy.

Well, I’m here to say that today’s cats are spoiled. Perhaps we went wrong buying them those soft fleece lined beds. Or maybe it was the water glasses instead of bowls because they prefer glasses. Or possibly they feel entitled because even though they have a pet door, every time they paw at the French doors, we jump up and let them inside. Or outside. Or back in. Or out. Or…you get the picture.

It could be that we sit in the hard chairs and let them lounge in the velvet one in front of the fire. Or maybe it’s the special cat food we buy that comes out of the feeder on a timer so they never have to wait for a human to feed them. It’s possible that they think they are the King and Queen of the joint because if one of them curls up right in the middle of the bed between us and my husband has to get up to go to the bathroom, he snakes his way out from under the covers in order not to disturb the cat (of course, when it’s just the two of us and he has to get up, he just flings the covers back, either doubling mine up and roasting me or pulling them off both of us and freezing me…but that’s another post). Regardless of where we might’ve gone wrong with Miss Sophie and Grinder, they are treated really well and you’d think the least they can do is remember that their job is to RID the house of mice, NOT BRING THEM INSIDE.

Yes, that’s right. We are the proud owners of a mouse who we did not invite to live with us, but the cats think makes a jolly plaything indoors where they won’t get wet by the June rain, so they brought him inside and let him go. When I complained to my husband that I was not the least bit happy about this, his response was, “Oh, it’s just a mouse. You’ve had skunks, opossums, chipmunks, birds, and half a squirrel in the house before. What’s the big deal?” The BIG deal is it is a friggin’ mouse! And what’s more, just like the opossum and many chipmunks before him, he’s in MY office. Not the kitchen or the living room or the bathroom, but MY OFFICE. And where are the cats not allowed to go? That’s right. My office. This is one smart mouse.

So…what do you think I should name him?

142-4247_img.JPGHere are the culprits looking all sweet and innocent!