Hickory Dickory Dock

This morning during breakfast, a little gray furry thing ran across my floor. “A mouse! A mouse! There is a mouse in my house!” I squeaked as I jumped out of my chair and ran to the other room. Nana yelled at me not to impart my fear of small rodents onto my children, and M suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to get those mouse traps we had talked about last week.

I quickly raced upstairs to get Dumb Cat, who was snoozing upstairs after a hard night prowling the neighborhood. Upon being presented with an easy snack, Dumb Cat looked at the mouse, looked at us, and tried to head back to bed. We pointed him at the mouse again, and you could see the big sigh as he half heartedly launched himself towards the mouse. As the mouse took off, Dumb Cat sat and watched. M and Grampa S finally corralled both cat and mouse in a small room, and Dumb Cat spent a few minutes putting on a show and then decided to take a bath and head back to bed. Lazy Cat never even bothered to move from her sunny spot. Grampa S finally had to do the deed and put “Mouskins” out of his misery.

My cats are clearly getting spoiled and old. Next week I am putting Dumb Cat on a diet in hopes of stimulating his hunting instincts. If I am going to spend my day letting him in and out of the house, the least he can do is take care of the rodent population.

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