Though it’s not a pleasant afternoon for Mr. Mouse, who’s been hiding in the tangled flower bed. I saw him scurry along under the cosmos and marigolds a little bit ago trying to hide from Bob. Big Bad Bob. He’s got a reputation now, as he has decapitated two of Mr. Mouse’s friends (or relatives for all we know). It’s a gruesome place when Bob’s about.
The other night he brought one of his trophies into the house to toss it around before deciding what to do with the corpse. Perhaps he is “tenderizing” it? I’m usually not the squeamish type, but coming around the corner to see Bob with a bloodied rodent at aphelion, was a bit startling to say the least. I shrieked for my husband, who came out of his computer cave and took a look at the situation and began to tell Bob what a great cat he was. He quoted his favorite cat poem to Bob. . .
“Love to eat them mousies
mousies what I love to eat.
Bite they little heads off
Nibble on they tiny feet.” By B. Kliban
He then tossed the incriminating evidence out the front door, Bob followed, nervously leaping after his prize. Good riddance !
“Eeeeewwww!” Was my intelligent comment on the whole business. Followed by a resounding “Yuck!” No poetry came to MY mind during this disgusting episode.
The result of all this bloodshed is that Bob has become obsessed. Where he used to sleep on his cat tower all the live long day, in various embarrassing and unflattering CATatonic positions, he now begs to be let out and frankly if the sliding glass door is open, he lets himself out the screen door letting the flies and gnats in the house.
He finds a spot in the shade (usually right on top of my prized peppermint plant) and waits. I go out and try to warn Mr. Mouse,
hoping he will go next door, but he just ignores me. I think he has a death wish, what can I tell you? Bob is very happy to grant any and all such self defeating wishes in mice.
So we are enduring the cat and mouse wars at our house. And I am sorry to say, the mice are losing. Although, even in his peril, I am pretty sure I saw that little fellow stick his tongue out at Bob earlier. Foolish mousie, very foolish indeed. Unless he changes his ways, I don’t think he will last out the week.