... A Sour Apple Tree

Your source for fast and/or frozen food reviews, Huntington and/or West Virginia commentary, rasslin' (not wrestling) nostalgia, bad parody, dumb satire, rejected slogans, pointless lists, unreliable sports predictions, and funny local pictures.

Location: Huntington, WV, United States

I'm a 37 year-old guy from Huntington, WV.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Adventures in cat ownership

My wife and I own three cats. Mind you, the number was supposed to be one, but they kept coming.

We got out first cat, Mosby, at a animal shelter in a rural county here in WV. He was just a tiny kitten that was found under a trailer somewhere and my wife chose him over several less-odd felines (he was obsessively burying messes in his litter box while his siblings whored it up for a home). He has a gray coat so, like every other gray cat belonging to a history major, he was named for a Confederate general.

Cat #2 is Masala, a tabby-ish cat that came straight from the mean streets of Huntington. People from Huntington have seen this same cat a thousand times over: a kinda-splotchy, kinda-stripey brownish-yellowish-orangish cat that blends in well with the brick houses and alleys of the city. She ran up our stairs one day and has stuck around ever since. She has an almost dog-like personality: she is very friendly (almost to a fault), responds to her name and to whistling, and is prone to knocking crap over in fits of excitement. She also puts up with our baby's hair pulling, tail tugging, and face smacking.

Rounding out the colony is Poofly, the pretty boy of the bunch. He is a small, long-haired tom with tuxedo markings that, as a kitten, survived some intense flooding underneath a Jr. High with his mom. He is Mo's side-kick, hanger-on, and loyal lackey. As far as people go, he likes me and no one else. He jumps in my lap often and demands affection, but ignores my wife, runs from the baby, and hides from company (often for days).

Well, a couple of nights ago, I stayed up late to watch the news and manage my fantasy football team. When I went to bed, my wife got up to take out her contacts. Within 30 seconds, I heard a shriek that could only mean on e thing: we had a mouse.

My wife is one of the bravest human beings that I have ever met. She handled a tough labor quite well, flourished academically in a masculine-dominated field, and has been known to make appliance salesmen and auto repair department managers cry when they try to rip her off on account of her gender. But she really really really hates feral mice.

I saw the mouse in our bath tub, so I got Mosby to go in there and take care of the problem. Mo is by far the best mouse catcher of the bunch, but he doesn't go for the kill. He would much rather carry the mouse around and torture it for a while. Well, he catches it, but he sets it down to bat at it and it gets away. So I am off to Kroger to get some glue traps.

I hit Kroger on 1st St, but they only have poison and snap traps. I always hurt myself on the snap traps and I really didn't feel like playing a two week game of "find the rotting poisoned mouse," so I drive to the Kroger by the Veterans Memorial Fieldhouse. There I find the glue traps that I prefer (don't worry, I always kill the mouse right after finding it).

By the way, apparently the purchase of glue traps made my Kroger Plus card spit out a coupon for frozen vegetarian food products. I'm still scratching my head on that one.

Anyway, I get home and see that Poofly, the wussiest cat, has the mouse in his mouth. I'm pretty sure at this point that it must be dead, as he is too dumb and slow and fraidy to touch a live squeaker. He runs with it into another room and drops it on the floor, where he and Masala bat it around (Mo loses all interest in playing when the mice die).

I pick it up with a bag from Target and toss it in the trash bag, which immediately goes to the outside can. While my cats usually just get dry food for dinner in the evening, this night they got two cans of the Fancy Feast that I got them for such occasions.

And I got a lesson never to doubt the ability of these three cute kitties to turn into stone-cold killers.

Labels: , ,


Blogger Barbie Girl said...

hahahahah! I have a calico cat and the last time we had a mouse she stopped, looked at it and continued licking herself.

I feel for the wife. When I was a child I had a cat drop a live mouse on the bed with me. I don't think I ever moved so fast in my life.

Monday, December 18, 2006  
Blogger Chris James said...

i have had pet mice before and when they would escape, these cats would leave them alone. It's like the know the dif.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home