“What the fuck was that?” I asked the man of the House.

“I don’t know. I hope it was the cats,” he replied.

We both got up, and he walked into the bedroom.

“It’s the Mouse,” he yelled, and then proceeded to just stand there while Priss chased it around the room.

I knew it was going to be my responsibility to get it, because he can’t handle mice. Or bugs. Or most things that are creepy crawly.

He knew it, too, as he just stood there in the doorway, preventing me from getting inside.

“What’re we gonna do?” he asked, over and over.

“Well, if you’re just gonna stand there in the way, I can’t do anything,” I yelled.

I probably shouldn’t have yelled. And if he wasn’t so freaked out about the mouse that had just run over his bare toes, I probably would have been in trouble. Thank goodness for mice, eh?

Priss, on the other hand, was having a grand old time. She’d catch the mouse under a paw, and then let it go. It would run to find another hiding spot, and she’d chase after it. She’d pick it up by the scruff of its neck, as if it were a kitten, carry it to a corner, and then let it go to chase after it again.

I knew that would happen. Hunters my cats are not. They like to think they are, but when it comes down to it, they just want to play.

Bash, however, didn’t even move from his cozy spot on the Cocoon until he thought Priss was getting something he wasn’t. Apparently, he was content to let the mouse live in his house.

Eventually, I had to lock Bash in the bedroom, and tell Master to stay out of the way. It was clear that if this mouse was going to be caught, Priss and I were going to have to work together, and the boys were just making things difficult.

I grabbed a cup. Priss grabbed the mouse and held it under the table while I got in position.

Then I said, “Okay, Priss. Let it go.” and she did. And the mouse ran straight for me. And I dropped the cup over it.

It wasn’t an ideal arrangement. Mice aren’t bugs. They can move plastic cups without much effort, and this one was no different. Despite the beating it had taken from Priss, it started walking the cup across the floor. So I had to hold the cup while Master went to find me something to slide under it.

“But what are you going to do with it?” he asked.

And obviously, the answer was put it outside. I’m having a hard enough time with the fact that there are poison traps strategically placed around the house. I’m sure as shit not going to brain a mouse in the middle of my dining room.

“But it’ll get back in!” he insisted.

And it might. But at least now Priss and I know how to catch it. The boys can just lay back and watch.