Erika Sanely (erika_sanely) wrote,
Erika Sanely

Well, not so much that I have mice; it's more like I get mice.

A few weeks ago, I came home from work, pottered in the living room and kitchen, and just after it started getting dark, I got myself organised for work the next day. This mostly involves making lunch, and putting my work clothes in the bathroom so I went to where I keep the clean clothes washing basket to grab my work gear. I didn't bother to turn the light on, but I could see in the middle of the room there was a suspicious lump. So, I turned on the light.

And lo and behold there in the middle of the room was a dead bird. I should have known it was there before I saw it. The boys had acted all shifty when I walked in the door, and kept looking at my out of the corners of their eyes when they thought I wasn't looking. Normally when they look at me they make sure I can see them, so I know that they're either planning my demise or are so 'incredibly hungry'* that they would chew my leg off if they thought they could get away with it. One of them, and neither of them is owning up to it, bought a dead bird into the house and ate half of it.

Last week, I did the sample drop off for work which meant I came back into town. It's a 40 minute drive each way, so when I do the run I usually stop in at home and have a coffee. I was sitting at home having my coffee, when Marles jumps in through the window with a mouse in his mouth. It was alive, and Marley thought it would be awesome to drop the mouse just to see where it went. It went like the dickens and hid before I had a chance to catch it.** Once it hid, Marley tried to find it. I think he thought it would be a fun time to try and learn how to play hide and seek. Except he got bored halfway through. And he gave me a look that clearly stated that he bought the mouse in for later, and what was my problem??? Why does the tall person always have to give a brutha trouble??

That night for the first time ever I closed my bedroom door to the cats. This is due to the fact about 1030 - just when I had started to fall asleep - I heard a commotion coming from the bathroom. Marley had cornered the mouse behind the toilet, and was giving it his best shot. I didn't want to wake up with a dead mouse on my head and a flatulent cat so closing the door was a great idea. My best ever.

The next morning, I got up and Owen was doing his stalker/sniper thing next to the baker's stand in the hallway by the bathroom, so I figured he had taken over hide-and-seek from Marley. That evening I came home from work hopeful, ever so hopeful that my house was rodent free. None of the cats were skulking around, which looked very promising.

What did not look promising was my toilet.

For the first time in my life I was faced with a backed up toilet. For the first time in my life the phrase "I think there's a dead mouse trapped in the s-bend" crossed my mind. For the first time in my life, I found myself wishing I had a long drop out in the backyard. The toilet wasn't too bad. By which I mean it flushed, but each time it was flushed only some of the water drained away, and drained away slowly. I threw some drain cleaner down the bowl, hoped for the best and went to bed.

In the morning the toilet was still sorta kinda blocked. Which, was not so great. And by this stage I was convinced that there was indeed a dead mouse trapped in the s-bend as both cats were conspicuous by their absence. There was nothing left for me to do, but through an entire jar of drain cleaner down it, open the bathroom window, close the door and go to work. If that didn't fix it, then I would try to work out something else, and call a plumber the day after (This all happened two days before pay-day. At this stage, not including my savings account that I like to save money in so I can try to go to the US again soon, I had $15 dollars to my name. I'm pretty sure call-outs to plumbers are more than that.)

However! There was success!! When I got home from work the toilet had fixed itself, and all was good with the world again.

That night, there was a commotion in the laundry. I spotted Owen, coming through the window. And in his mouth was a baby mouse. I tried to stop him, but all I succeeded in doing was alarming him, causing him to drop the mouse. Luckily he dropped it in the laundry, so I closed the door, leaving Owen in there and after a lot of bumping noises, it all went silent. Opened the door, and the mouse was dead.

So I don't have mice. There is a grassy area across the road from me, and the boys love spending time over there. I'm guessing that they have found a mice community, and they can't work out why I don't have awesome things like mice in the house for them to play with.

I did read somewhere that when cats bring you dead things it's a sign of love. Thanks for that guys. I'd prefer it if you let me sleep in until at least 7am on weekends instead of me wondering where I'm going to find animal guts in my house.

*They get fed twice a day. In fact, on weekends I don't even get to sleep in, as their body clocks are finely tuned instruments, and if they don't get fed at exactly the correct time Marley will sit on my head. And more often than not pass gas while sitting there. Truly, they have great futures ahead of them as evil dictators of a world ruled by cats.

**Okay, I didn't try and catch it. I sat where I sat while pointing at it, screaming to Marley, "Kill it!!! KILL IT!!!!"
Tags: the boys

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