Of Cats and Mice

Hub and I have had our cats for our entire marriage: ten years.  We adopted them from a shelter as kittens.  They were litter-mates.  We only wanted one cat, but for some reason, the shelter wanted to keep these siblings together.  The person who made that demand must have been a dog person.  Cats generally despise each other.

Nevertheless, who can say "no" to another kitten?

We ended up with the pair.  They tumbled and cavorted around our first, most beautiful, and tiniest apartment -- the one on the horse farm.  We weren't supposed to have pets, but because Hub didn't wear a ponytail, and because neither of us sport any tattoos or piercings, our landlords have always allowed us to do as we please.  I would have assumed our timely rent payment was the biggest factor in all this, but several sets of our landlords over the years have told us, in no uncertain terms, that it is all about the haircuts and virgin skin.  I know many responsible people with tattoos and piercings, and some of my favorite, gentlest male friends have ponytails, but I am not a landlord, so my opinion is worthless when it comes to kittens.

We were allowed to bring our two kittens home -- provided they stayed inside and did not eat the chickens.

They caught a mouse once, trapping it under the fridge in the middle of the night.  Once we located the source of the shrieking, we decided we could do nothing more about it at the moment, and returned to bed.  We woke to find two kittens, proud as punch, frolicking about the bloody carnage.

So when I found, in mid August, a pile of tiny droppings among my last night's biscuits -- and along my kitchen windowsill -- and underneath the fruit bowl -- and all around anywhere Lucia has ever eaten anything and left her trail of sticky debris, I freaked right out.  This couldn't be a mouse!  We have cats!  This HAD to be a roach -- and a BIG one.  I called an exterminator immediately.  The very patient lady on the phone promised he'd be there in two days.

I spent that time down the rabbit hole of mouse shit vs. roach shit internet discussion.  By the time the exterminator arrived, I was a nervous wreck.  He took one look, and declared the turds: "Rodent."  He searched the house from top to bottom, and turned up very little extra evidence of infestation.  He left me with a few sticky traps (for free!) and told me not to worry, my cats had probably just brought in a live one and let it get away.

The sticky trap produced its mouse on the first night.  Hub disposed of the poor creater as swiftly as possible.

The moral of the story is... I don't know... that my house is nowhere near as clean as I thought it was, there is literally food EVERYWHERE, despite my perpetual sweeping and sponging... and that cats are fickle jerks.

Earn your keep, kitties!