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14 April 2009 @ 10:29 pm
 
It was a quiet and delightfully relaxing evening. Don and I were enjoying the most recent episode of TBBT (so. much. DC. geekery.) and our respective after dinner drinks when we heard a resounding crash from the basement. Assuming there was a kitty battle going on, I hurried downstairs to assess the damage. A tortoiseshell blur zoomed out of the shadows, paused, and looked back at me with a strange, grey grin. "Uh, Don?" I called. "She's got a mouse."

Pause.

"A toy one?"

"Very much not." Esme, tail puffed to previously unforeseen volume, hunched over and dropped the poor mousie. It made a dash for freedom. My tiny kitty let it skitter off for a good six inches before pouncing and reclaiming her prize.

Don raced downstairs to join our strange gathering. I was heaping praise upon my one-eyed kitty. "Such a brave girl! So clever and doughty and mettlesome!" If I thought that might induce her to turn over her prize, I was greatly mistaken. She cocked her head to train her good eye upon me, growled, and raced upstairs.

"She's going up!" cried my husband.

"Follow her!" I urged.

"She's too quick. I lost her!"

"Check the bathroom. That's where she took the shrew..." I skidded to a stop as the living room came into view. In the glow of my computer monitor, I saw her. "Holy... she took the mouse to my mouse." Indeed, Esme had dropped the poor rodent onto the dining room table. Right next to my computer. Directly on top of my mouse pad. I dashed into my mostly denuded kitchen and scrabbled about for a likely container. Mason jar in hand, I raced back to the table. By this time, the epic battle had ranged back to the floor and wasn't so much tooth-and-claw as well-placed-paw. Edging past the kitty, I popped the jar over the mouse. Esme sat back and looked at me with utter disbelief. "Give her a treat," Don suggested. "Oh, wait..."

Wait, indeed. Esme doesn't care for kitty treats. "People snacks!" I cried. A bag of Flat Earth Tomato Ranch crisps was unearthed from the pantry. I fed her a few crumbs as I sang her virtues. The poor mouse scrabbled at the sides of the jar and let loose with a prodigious amount of pee. At last, we slid some cardboard beneath the mouth of the jar and set the much-beset critter into the night. I don't know that he'll make it, but he certainly was no safer inside.

The other cats slept through the entire incident. Esme has been prancing about like the pretty pretty princess huntress that she is.



**note: all images are archival.**


The victim:


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The last thing he saw:


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"mmm. Tastes like victory."


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I hear: "The Mouse," Stardust soundtrack
 
 
 
Janet: Cats - Stephanie Pui-Man Lawgoodnite_gracee on April 15th, 2009 03:21 am (UTC)
I do so love your stories! Thanks for a great grin this evening!
Aifacat: Emma!aifacat on April 15th, 2009 04:24 am (UTC)
Hee hee - cheers, Esme!!!
Kerry: Charliescreamingdolai on April 15th, 2009 04:34 am (UTC)
I love the "archival footage". I kinda expect to hear Kent Brockman narrating this on the news.
Zoë Tzoethor on April 15th, 2009 05:14 am (UTC)
I love your stories. You really ought to write a book.

Give Esme some praise on my behalf. The very best kitties catch mice.

Ysa is the kitty in our house who gets my money put on her as the hunter. She *terrorizes* the toy mice we provide her.
Fjordhopperfjordhopper on April 15th, 2009 09:42 am (UTC)
Yay Esme! The mighty huntress.

(I actually love that the other cats just slept through the whole thing! That's too funny!)
Kathy: Buddytoosha on April 15th, 2009 11:35 am (UTC)
The perfect way to start the work day. Thank you. YAY Esme!

Reminds me of when my Sera had one in my folks guest room and I tried to get it from her while the dog had the doorway. The dog and I failed and Sera spent the rest of the camped out in front of my Dad's dresser in the next room.