Betsy: 1. Me: 0. Mouse: -1.

So a week or so ago, Betsy was meowing on the window sill to be let back in.

“Does she have something in her mouth?”  I wonder as I walk to the window.  “Silly me,” I think, opening the window.  “How could she meow with a rodent in her mouth?”

She jumps in.  Mid-flight I see that she does indeed have a critter in her jaws.  Before I’ve even got the four letter word out, she’s landed and dropped her victim.

Which is not actually dead.

But neither is it at the top of its game.  It staggers off.  I grab an ice cream bucket and try to catch it, but Betsy keeps getting in the way.  Finally the furry interloper runs behind the kitchen cupboards.

I put out glue traps and shoved mouse poison back into his last-seen location.

I’m pretty sure he’s still there, and permanently.  My kitchen has picked up a nasty decaying odor quite unlike the usual precompost moldering in the scraps crock.

On the whole, this is more good news than bad.

The worst part is Betsy’s gloating.  Her self-satisfied smirk since the stench showed up has been worse than the smell itself.   “I knew I’d given it a mortal blow,” she blinks.  “Why did you doubt?  I am Betsy, Mousebane and Molehunter.  Even squirrels fear me.”  Then, just to rub in her brilliance, she turns on the radio.



5 responses to this post.

  1. I used to have a cat that looked like the one in Pet Semetary and he liked to bring mice in and stuff them under my mattress for me to find in the morning. I’m pretty sure he was evil and I was lucky that he let me live through every night.


    • Posted by Michelle Markey Butler on June 17, 2013 at 2:34 pm

      Oh, lord. That probably would’ve been a deal breaker. I have a serious neurotic thing about mice in my hair and the mouse-on-the-pillow would’ve hit too close. That cat is lucky you let him stay whilst indulging in such dreadful hijinks.


  2. I came home one time to find that The Cat had brought home a pigeon, dismantled it and spread it gleefully throughout the apartment.

    The Cat sat and watched with bemused interest while I cleaned up the mess, picking up endless feathers and bits of poultry.

    When I had finally finished, I looked up… to see The Cat dragging in the other half of the pigeon and happily restoring the apartment to the state of feathery carnage that felt appropriate.


    • Posted by Michelle Markey Butler on June 17, 2013 at 2:35 pm

      That is hilarious. From a safe distance and a not-reasonable-for-the-cleaning POV.


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