“Stay out of my house!”

          “Stay out of my house!”

 

One Thursday a mouse got into my house. I was sitting in my downstairs office, at the work station, when I heard a scuffle and a squeak behind me. I turned around and saw Charlie batting at a small dark-grey puffball. A mouse! I told Charlie, “Kill it! Eat it!” Charlie just sat there, staring at the mouse. He knew to chase it, but not what to do with it once it’s cornered.

          The mouse scurried under the nearby couch. I got up and moved the couch. I found no mouse, just some dust, which I took the opportunity to sweep. I shrugged, I figured that the cats will find the mouse, and I returned to web-surfing. A few minutes later Katniss was at my feet. I looked down, and there was the mouse again. She had cornered it. I told Katniss, “Kill it! Eat it!” She too just sat and stared at the mouse.

          I rolled my eyes and stood up. Katniss bolted. I walked to the next room and got a bug-catcher. A bug-catcher is my own invention; it consists of a small transparent plastic bowl (saved from some packaging) and an 8-by-11 cardboard rectangle. I use it to catch and release bugs; I figured it would work on the mouse. I walked back, and the mouse was still there. I reached for the mouse, clear bowl in hand, but the mouse scurried past me.

          I followed the mouse out the office door to the rest of the basement. I found it and the two cats at the base of the water-heater. They had surrounded it, and were sitting on either side of it, gravely fascinated. My pampered aristocats had no idea what to do!

          I reached down holding the small clear bowl. I placed the bowl over the mouse; then I slid the cardboard under the bowl, and lifted bowl and board, with mouse trapped within. Its tail stuck out of the bowl, but it turned around once and drew its tail in. I showed the bowl with mouse within to Katniss; she sniffed. Then I showed it to Charlie. He too sniffed.

          The mouse squeaked. I stood up and I said to the mouse, “I am trying to save your life.” I walked to the front door, trapped mouse in hand. “You shouldn’t be here,” I scolded the mouse. “Stay out of my house!” In the entrance room, I said, “You know that there are cats here!” I opened the front door, took some steps out, and with a sweep of both arms, I threw the mouse away. I briefly saw the mouse in midair, feet and tail awkwardly splayed. I went back in and closed the door.

          The cats weren’t entirely useless; they did corner the mouse so I could catch it. It was a hard day for that mouse; chased and cornered by cats not once but three times, then scolded by a human and brusquely ejected. I talk to animals, though they don’t know language, because they do know tone of voice, and the mouse could tell that I was being territorial. My house!