A Mouse in the House

We had a mouse in the house this afternoon. My wife wasn't happy about the visitor, but our youngest cat was thrilled. Mouse

Our two older cats were rescued as tiny orphaned kittens, so we don't truly know their background. Just by looking at their fluffy fur and calico markings, though, you can tell that there's a lot of intentional human breeding in their family tree. The two older cats enjoy brief stints of mouse chasing, but they aren't very good at it and they lose interest fast. Their breeding makes them friendly and sedate.

Our youngest cat came as a kitten from a farm down the road. A quasi-domesticated cat showed up and had a litter of kittens, and we gave one of those a home. While we took our new addition to the vet for the operation to be sure that she would be the end of her farm-cat line, there's no doubt that she's the product of a family tree of cats that had to hunt to live.

I was on my way home when the action began, but my wife's commentary described a small cat who took to mousing like a duck to water. By the time I got home, the cat was hunkered underneath the bathroom sink with the mouse clutched in her jaws and growling the Great Dane away from her prize.

Getting the mouse from my furry little feline demon so that I could dispose of the remains wasn't easy--I don't blame the dog for her reluctance--but eventually I was able to remove the little rodent, complete with oozing puncture wounds.

There's a feeling you get, a feeling when you are doing the thing you evolved to do. My half-grown kitten found her thing today, and her thrill was so great that I even felt a little bad for ending her fun (but not too bad). If you can find your thing, you had bettered do it.