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Oct. 7th, 2000 11:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silversolitaireMy cat, the loser!
I ask you, dear friends and sisters, why does a human being usually keep a cat? To catch mice, of course! Then I ask you: why did my father crawl on the floor of out guest's bathroom today, trying to catch the terrified mouse my dear car and brother has brought into the house? That was quite an experience. My mom leaving the living room, shrieking: "Oh my God! There was something swishing through the corridor! I think that was a mouse!!!" and she ran into the kitchen and slammed the door shut behind her. I looked at the place where my cat was rummaging, pulled the box aside and there it was, this poor frightenend mouse. Sherlock grabbed it and carried it away, to the stair's landing, but was stopped by my dad's yell who had arrived at the crime scene by now. Sherlock dropped the mouse and it ran towards me. I took a decision and opened the guest's bathroom's door. The mouse zoomed inside and I locked the door. Sherlock slammed against the door, growled and spat. My dad took the wiggling bundle and locked him into the living room. He then returned to the bathroom, armed with a glass and a piece of cartboard. I backed him up as he slid into the room. Then I heard him shout and the clattering and crashing inside. By that time Sherlock had freed himself from the living room and joined our battle again, peering through the crack at the side of the door to see what was going on. All the while my mom was still screaming in the kitchen.
A few minutes later, my dad had won the fight and emerged from the bathroom with a very cute and very scared wee little mouse. We wanted to show it to my mom, but she threatened to do something we'd all regret, if we came any closer. So we released the mouse into freedom.
Now I know: my cat is a loser and absolutely incapable. But gee, do I love him!
I ask you, dear friends and sisters, why does a human being usually keep a cat? To catch mice, of course! Then I ask you: why did my father crawl on the floor of out guest's bathroom today, trying to catch the terrified mouse my dear car and brother has brought into the house? That was quite an experience. My mom leaving the living room, shrieking: "Oh my God! There was something swishing through the corridor! I think that was a mouse!!!" and she ran into the kitchen and slammed the door shut behind her. I looked at the place where my cat was rummaging, pulled the box aside and there it was, this poor frightenend mouse. Sherlock grabbed it and carried it away, to the stair's landing, but was stopped by my dad's yell who had arrived at the crime scene by now. Sherlock dropped the mouse and it ran towards me. I took a decision and opened the guest's bathroom's door. The mouse zoomed inside and I locked the door. Sherlock slammed against the door, growled and spat. My dad took the wiggling bundle and locked him into the living room. He then returned to the bathroom, armed with a glass and a piece of cartboard. I backed him up as he slid into the room. Then I heard him shout and the clattering and crashing inside. By that time Sherlock had freed himself from the living room and joined our battle again, peering through the crack at the side of the door to see what was going on. All the while my mom was still screaming in the kitchen.
A few minutes later, my dad had won the fight and emerged from the bathroom with a very cute and very scared wee little mouse. We wanted to show it to my mom, but she threatened to do something we'd all regret, if we came any closer. So we released the mouse into freedom.
Now I know: my cat is a loser and absolutely incapable. But gee, do I love him!
