Well the cool weather isn’t even here yet and the first mouse of the winter has found its way into Joey’s mouth. Don’t panic – this isn’t a gruesome, gory tale, the mouse is fine and will probably live to a ripe old age. A question that does arise though is why would even the dumbest of mice venture into a house with four cats? Another question  that comes to mind; how does a klutz like Joey always manage to be the one that catches it?

Joey is the friendly one. They are all friendly, but he is the one who is always on your lap or your shoulder, lying on your chest or curled up in your arms, purring and kneading. You can be sitting around having a conversation with someone, and look down and find a cat purring away in your arms, and not know where he came from. Friendly he is, but agile he isn’t. He is the master of the misjudged jump, and when we play with him with a cat tease, the tease usually wins. So it is a mystery how he always ends up with the mouse in his mouth.

These events usually take place between 2:00 and 4:00 in the morning, when only cats and mice are awake. I am usually drawn out of a peaceful sleep by the soothing sound of four cats racing around the house, the crashing of things being knocked over or off tables and counters, and the angry growling that I have come to recognize as Joey’s mouse roar. These guys get along great, with an occasional hiss or yowl when one of them is upset, so this growling is a big deal. Joey caught the mouse and the others want to see what he has, and maybe even share, but Joey isn’t in a sharing mood.

Now I’m up and stumbling around in the dark trying to find the cat. It doesn’t take long, He’s in the dining room, under the china cabinet, growling away. When I got close he took off and ran into the kitchen and jumped up onto a counter, actually making it for a change. Now he was mine. He wasn’t running from me, just the other cats. I picked him up and carried him over by the sink. Mickey, or Minnie, I really didn’t look that closely, was firmly clenched in his mouth, unhappy but so far unharmed. There is no way to pry the mouse loose; if I try and Joey bites down, it’s curtains for the mouse. The best way to free the mouse is to reach for Joey’s arch nemesis, public enemy number one, the squirt bottle. One or two squirts into the sink and he dropped the mouse and ran.

At first I was surprised that the mouse was alive and unhurt, but after five or six of these incidents, I have come to expect it. The mouse, dazed and a little confused, staggers around on the counter while I grab a paper towel to pick him up with. Do it with your bare hand and he is likely to sink his little rodent teeth into you. Soon he is in a box with a cover on it and safe in a room where the cats can’t go, and I am back in bed. In the morning he seemed fine, and I took him out to the woods. When I took the cover off the box he shot out of there like he was spring loaded, and disappeared under some brush. I’d like to think I’ve seen the last of him, but as dumb as these guys seem to be, it wouldn’t surprise me if before the winter is over I found him back in Joey’s mouth.