My new alarm clock -- er, roommate...

I think you’ll enjoy this whether you’re a cat person or not…

So I’ve got this new cat — still a kitten, really. And I’ve been going back and forth between keeping it safe indoors and my previous convictions about letting cats outside. But what’s become apparent in the two weeks I’ve had it is that my two-bedroom condo and a few cat toys are no substitution for the great outdoors. So late last week I started letting him out.

We’re quickly settling into a nice routine wherein he wakes me up at 6am (still working on that), I feed him then cut him loose for a morning patrol of his domain while I check my email, web feeds and maybe even write a blog post — just as I’m doing right now.

He’s happier too — so happy, in fact that Saturday morning he brought me a present… In the form of a live baby mouse.

I didn’t see it in his mouth when I let him in (it was still dark out) and didn’t realize what was happening until he plopped the thing on the floor and started batting it around. It got away and hid somewhere behind my TV and stereo, and since my cat was doing a pretty crappy job of catching it I decided to lock him in the bathroom and deal with the mouse myself. But by the time I got a flashlight the little guy was nowhere to be found.

The way I figured, best-case scenario would be that the mouse would die of shock and I’d be able to find the corpse before it started rotting, so I went on with my day and headed into the shower. On my way out I noticed that my cat was paying more attention than usual to his scratching pad. And what lay underneath? If you guessed “a mouse with very poor judgement in hiding places”, you are correct!

I immediately went in search of some rubber gloves. When I came back my cat had the mouse in the middle of the kitchen floor. It looked for a second like they might actually be playing until I came to the realization that the mouse had probably resigned itself to die. I scooped it up by the tail in one hand and my cat in the other (so he wouldn’t swat at it), put the cat in the bathroom once again and set the mouse free outside. It didn’t seem to have any noticeable wounds; in fact, it curled its head around to look at me while I had it in my hands — possibly to thank me, or more likely thinking: “Oh no, what now?”

I guess my cat hasn’t yet been schooled in the fine art of the kill-bite. I kinda hope he never learns…