I had put some
pasteboard boxes on the kitchen porch to burn--they take up so much
room in our trash-- but they sat there for a long time because there is a
burn ban this summer. (You think of the Northwest as a wet place, but in the rain shadow it is really a desert on the ocean!) I discovered a family of mice had moved into one of the boxes,
chewing up some newspaper for their nest. I
threw the box down the stairs to the ground, but a baby mouse got into the house. I didn't
tell my husband because he has a major problem with mice. I put out some rat
poison, and hoped between that and a cat in the house, I could get rid
of it without him knowing.
Jubilee had so much fun! She would sit
in front of whatever piece of furniture it was under. I didn't see it,
but could tell where it was by her behavior. The first night, we heard some loud thuds, followed by meowing. It woke up both Mike and me, but Jubilee is often active and verbal at night, especially when we have the grandchildren here, so he didn't suspect anything. The second night, I got up to use the bathroom, and found Jubilee playing with the mouse in the living room. She had it in her mouth, and I thought, oh, good, now she'll finish it off. But she dropped it and let it go. She's not that bad of a hunter; she was just having too much fun playing with a live mouse.
Day 3: Mike drove into Sequim. The grandchildren had left the day before. I took the opportunity while I was alone to get rid of the mouse. With Jubilee shut in the bedroom, I opened up both doors and waited. After a couple of hours I shut the doors and let Jubilee out. I could not see the mouse, but only Jubilee could tell if it was gone. She prowled around the piano and looked in the closet. She lay expectantly in the middle of the living room rug for a little while, then, looking a little dejected, curled up in a sunny spot to take her nap. Things back to normal. No more mouse playmate. Back to lonely inside cat life.
