Posted by: Lois Lindemann on: May 20th, 2009 
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“By the way,” said Mr TLC, “there’s a mouse under the fridge.”
Super. I always like to keep a mouse around the place. You never know when a rodent might come in handy.
Actually, it’s all part of the joy of cats. The trouble is that Black Cat’s rodent hunting glory days seem to have passed by, so Ginger Cat helpfully brings a mouse in for him from time to time. Sometimes Black Cat rouses himself from his slumbers and chases proffered mouse, sometimes he just can’t be bothered. Whichever option Black Cat selects, Mr TLC and I invariably leap up and perform our well-practised and very slick catch-a-mouse-in-a-glass routine, before taking the rescued mouse back outside.
Anyway, this mouse was too quick for Mr TLC, so no rescuing for him. Oh no. He went straight under the fridge and stayed there until this morning (the mouse that is, not Mr TLC). We didn’t actually see Ginger Cat fetch this one in, but what the heck, we scape-catted him anyway and muttered about him from time to time during the course of yesterday evening.
Now normally a mouse rescue involves intercepting said rodent as it sprints around the base of the skirting board, but this mouse was different. This morning, Mr TLC went into the kitchen and found him sitting on the doormat, surveying his new surroundings. Cue a solo rescue routine with an empty glass and a release into the creeping geraniums. Success. Go Mr TLC! An oddly behaved mouse, but dealt with and ready to be forgotten.
It was a little while later when I was about to leave for work that we spotted this nutty rodent again: there he was, playing in the garden. Yes, playing. In a scene slightly reminiscent of a certain Siberian hamster, Mr Mouse was pottering around the open space in the middle of the garden, investigating this and that, throwing bits of the birds’ bread around, bobbing about and starting to look awfully, um…
“It seems a bit, er, tame.”
“You don’t think?”
“Surely it’s the wrong colour? Aren’t pet mice white?”
Oh dear. I hope it wasn’t. Too late now in any case.
Whaddya mean it’s too late? Has Ginger Cat gobbled up said mouse or has Mr TLC executed the wee timorous beastie with his big size ten Crocs?
Fear not YP – nothing so dramatic occured, Mr Mouse just trundled off out of sight. Hope he wanted the freedom of the garden, because he’s stuck with it now, like it or not.