This is our cat. His name is Jameson (yes, after the whiskey) and he just turned seven.
Jameson is a lot of things. He purrs like a motor boat, but he'll try to bite you in a second if you touch his stomach. He's on a
diet to lose a little bit of weight (
so far, so good). He is extremely cage aggressive at work, so much that he's earned a bit of a reputation. And the one person he's actually bitten? My boss. Yeah, great judgement there, Jameson. (Enough sedatives to knock out a donkey, skin biopsy, scissors and suture, freak accident, blah blah blah...)
He's also a hell of a hunter. The kids are not great about always closing the door, but if flies get inside, I don't bother chasing them down with a fly swatter, because Jameson will catch them and eat them. One year he caught what we thought was a fly until it stung him. Bee. And in the 7 years we've had him, he's caught several rodent creatures that we'll call mice because I'm not really sure and I don't want to go there.
Living in an old house with lots of brick and ill-fitting doors and windows, it's a given that every once in awhile, a critter will come inside. I was eight months pregnant the first time it happened. Last summer, the kids and I spent the entire morning out and about and when we came home, Johnny announced, "Mom! There's something dead in our house!" Expecting a cricket or something, I looked. Dead mouse. I screamed. Thankfully, he just broke its neck and didn't disembowel it. He's a thoughtful cat like that.
And then...THEN...there was yesterday.
My husband took the kids to a bison farm in Baltimore County. I stayed home, went for a run, did some housework. I was upstairs, minding my own business, cooling down after my workout, when I heard a racket from downstairs. Sometimes one of Maureen's hairbands goes astray and Jameson likes to play with them. He ate one once, but luckily it came out the other end eventually. Still, I'm not willing to risk it, so when Jameson runs around like that, I investigate.
Only it wasn't a hairband. It was a mouse. Firmly clenched in Jameson's mouth. I didn't know that cats could hiss with their mouth's mostly closed. They can. So great, right? If there has to be a critter in the house, isn't it best that the cat of the moment is on it? Except the cat decided he wanted to play with his victim before ultimately murdering it. He put it down. It ran in circles. I screamed. I can't help it. Give me a pitbull trying to eat me at work over a rodent any day.
The cat casually recaught the mouse. I opened the side door and grabbed the broom with the intention of shoving both cat and mouse out the door. Except the cat is an indoor cat and he barely ventures out onto our deck. He doesn't do out. He didn't want to give up his super cool toy.
He took the mouse upstairs.
I started to panic. No! Stop! Come back!
At the top of the stairs, he put the mouse down again. And he must have been bored with it at this point because it ran away and he watched it go.
Right under my bed.
Panic crescendos.
There was more screaming. There was some cursing. (A lot of cursing.) Luckily the kids weren't home, because I said a certain F word about six times.
"JAMESON! You useless striped lump! Get your dead ass under that bed and catch that effing thing and effing kill it! It's UNDER MY BED AND I'LL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN UNTIL YOU KILL IT!!!!!!"
He yawned.
That's when the husband and kids came home. Perfect timing.
I tore the bedroom apart looking for the rodent while keeping my broom close by in case I had to smash it myself. Nothing.
I pulled everything out from under the bed. I cursed my husband for his propensity for saving useless crap. Nothing.
I even pulled my incredibly heavy dresser away from the wall. Nothing. Nothing but dust and dirt, which then to a major cleaning episode. No mouse.
6 hours later, still no mouse. The cat was so disinterested, we had to conclude the mouse found some tiny hole through which to squeeze itself and escaped.
I found myself last night putting away laundry and gingerly opening drawers. What if it managed to get into a drawer? If a mouse popped out at me, I was seriously going to pee myself and drop dead from a heart attack.
I couldn't sleep last night. I didn't want any extra pillows to fall on the floor. What if the mouse came out, got into the pillowcase and I picked it up half asleep? Again, pee and acute death.
I slept on the couch.
No mouse.
It's now been over 24 hours. Nothing. No sign of it. Jameson slept all day.
He has been lectured. If he ever catches a mouse again, kill the effing thing. I will buy him a wind up mouse if he wants to chase something.
Until then, he's been demoted from mighty hunter to master slacker.
And I still can't sleep.