Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

I heard scuffling noises, then a short time later Perrine dashed into the bedroom moving as though she was in a hurry. A closer look revealed exactly what I expected to find: a mouse in her jaws. A baby (well, a juvenile anyhow) this time. With cute, disproportionately-large ears, that baby-mammal look to its face, and a not-quite-sure-of-itself walk. As somebody's pet, it'd be cute. Scampering around my bed or my kitchen, not so cute. As soon as Perrine dropped it, it hid under her. Hid successfully right under my cat. (Okay, we know that Perrine does not have eyes in her butt, counter to theories about how cats read.) While she was still uncertain where it had gone, I was able to nudge her aside and scoop the mouse into a plastic container.

So now it's hopping around in a clear plastic peanut butter jar (and pooping a lot) while Perrine watches, fascinated, and tries to figure out how to get at it, occasionally poking at the jar or nudging it. She's unhappy about not being able to reach it (she just gave a little cry of frustration) but I'm happy that the mouselet isn't pooping in my bed or making its way to a cranny where Perrine would lose track of it entirely and it would escape to survive to adulthood. I'm telling myself that trapping it in the jar is less cruel than Perrine would be to it if she could reach it. When it looks like it's running out of air, I'll toss it outside or pick a quicker way to kill it. For now, it's cat-entertainment.

At least this time I was already awake.