Out of the Closet

I have thought of a dozen kitty-moments to share with you and failed to sit down to write. I think part of me is sad and guilty that I’m not helping kitties – other than my own. Not directly anyway. The situation with our 3 is precarious and I don’t dare tip things.

Anyway… we just had a little adventure. And as cat lovers I’m sure you will relate.

I was sitting on the couch and toggling through my phone messages when I heard a ‘squeek’ in the background. The lightbulb hadn’t gone on yet… I looked over my right shoulder down the hall and to the dining room and I saw a mouse!

I have not had a mouse in our home since the summer about 12 years ago when Nikita the Brave carried one inside to play with. I mean, I’ve said it often: no sane mouse would ever enter our doors. After all, they would pick up the kitty pheromones and sense that danger. And I’m a little germ/bug phobic and don’t have windows open without intact screens and never leave doors open more than a minute walking into the house – even with groceries.

But good judgment and logic be damned, there he was running along the baseboard towards the front hall. And in a picture my still-befuddled brain managed to register, I saw Nuala, Cooper and Shadow in pursuit. Not hot pursuit – but curious and surprised following. Not really knowing what to do. Even Shadow was too curious to let her scardy-cat heart rule the moment. Pure happy discovery, if not killer instinct.

You never know how cats will react. Nikita – a seasoned hunter, allowed indoor/outdoor, and savvy of the world – would play with a mouse for amusement. Picking it up as gently as a kitten, and put it in the center of the room for it to run and then she could chase and bring her ‘toy’ back to restart the game. Mouci, the most wonderfully sweet cat who got along with everyone, would immediately shake the mouse killing it. We would do all we could to rescue them. We love wildlife.

Don’t get me wrong: I am girly and don’t want to touch mice or have them in my abode. I also don’t want them to die. So this means that I call (quite calmly) to J who arrives on the scene and devises a plan.

Lucky for mr mouse, he ran into my front hall closet. I made sure to follow the chase before I called for J… and saw mr mouse disappear under the door.

Nuala and Cooper were dazed, confused, and a little resentful as they were corralled into the only room that has a door. Then we blocked exits from the closet and my ‘bird rescue’ shoebox was pressed into use – as every shoe was thrown out of the closet in search of a terrified little mouse. It took a while but J managed to get him into the box.

It was only about 3 steps to the door and freedom but he didn’t know it. We let him go in our garden. He just sat there … stunned. And entirely unhurt.

Oh how I wish I had a photo of all three of our kitties coming together to follow – even herd – this poor little mouse. Luckily he didn’t die of shock and fear.

And while Nuala and Cooper are still sniffing every inch of the closet, that ends the adventure of da mouse in da house.


Not our mouse – but very similiar. Field mice are common since we live near a forest