“You know, the cat’s a real killer.”

I was sitting at my desk working when my husband spoke those words.  They were followed by “I’d really hate to be that mouse.”  I agreed with him.
I instantly felt sorry for said mouse. My cat loves to play with her food… doesn’t matter what kind of food it is. She’s ruthless.

Dh called to me from the back window, asking if I wanted to watch. What is it about men and their interest in anything getting mamed, killed or destroyed?

“NO!” I said. “Poor little thing.”

Now one part of the story you’re missing is… when I went to decorate for fall (yes, I’m one of those people who decorates for every holiday and season) I opened the box of “natural” decorations (natural being natural leaves, corn, pine cones… anything non plastic) and there it was.  The decorative corn.  Except there was no corn left. Only cobs and stalks, or leaves, or shucks or whatever you’d call them. Point is, that darn mouse had eaten my corn.

The war was on.
So I grabbed the cat and put her in the box and told her I wanted the rodent dead by midnight.  She never did bring me a dead mouse so I figured he got smart (or full.. maybe both!) and moved on….. hopefully out! of the basement.

Back to today… DH lovingly reminded me of what the mouse had done to my corn… just as I was feeling sorry for the little thing.  Yeah, I’m kinda picky about my decorations.  It’s just something you don’t mess with.  I guess the mouse didn’t know that, but nevertheless, I told dh to relay a message to the cat… “Kill the mouse.”

Of course now I’m feeling slightly guilty. But I’m still not going to watch. :-)