The Bellinghman (bellinghman) wrote,
The Bellinghman

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Well, last night wasn't a good one for sleep.

I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard one of our cats enter the bedroom, making a funny growly noise. It's the sound a cat makes when it's proud of something, yet doesn't actually want to be noticed, all at the same time and slightly muffled. It usually means that the cat has caught something and brought it in.

On goes the bedside light, and I peer under the bed, from where the noise is now coming. Somewhat bleary-eyed as I am without my glasses on, I can still see that it's Kosh (our Abby Tom) with something in his mouth.

I grab at him but he rushes into the bathroom.

(Why he insists on bringing his catches in is a question we still don't have an answer to.)

So, into the bathroom, putting on another light, and I grab him. It's a mouse, thought whether live or dead I can't immediately see. Oh well. I force his jaws open by pressing into the corners of his mouth, and the mouse drops out. Unusually, it's not only alive, but unstunned and it immediately makes a run for it.

Without my glasses on, there's only one way I'm going to catch it. I deputise the cat.

This time, I force Kosh's jaws open with my left hand, my right hand cupped under the prey, and the mouse drops out into my hand, promptly biting me.

It's a tenacious little beast, and keeps its teeth embedded in my forefinger for a few seconds. Perhaps I would make a good vet, since I don't execute a 'hamster flick' and project the creature across the room in surprise. Also, I don't drop it either.

Out the bedroom, down the stairs, to the front door, and I toss it out onto the front door mat. With the front door closed, the mouse is safe from pursuit for a while, as Kosh will have to go out of the catflap into the back garden and then get over the two metre high barrier between the houses to get to the front, even assuming he knows where the mouse is at that point.

Into the kitchen - we've got plasters, no problem. But the first tube of antiseptic cream is five years past its expiry date, and an evil grey crud to boot. Never mind, there's another tube which looks fresh, so, finger now cleaned of oozing blood, I rub some ointment on, put a band-aid over it, and go back to bed.

Of course, I can't get to sleep immediately, so I wake up somewhat late.

To find in the middle of the bathroom floor when I get up, a mouse, this time dead.

Damned moggy.

How do I tell, him, I can get my own midnight snacks, thankyouverymuchindeed?

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