My Life: Playing Cat and Mouse

Since Centenarian is feeling a little under the weather these days, Main Lady is spending time tending to her every whim needs, and at 103 August years the old freighter needs a whole lot less maintenance than most.  Certainly a lot less than I would require should Divinity intervene and cause me to attain such a Noble age.  Not that I want to, you understand.  By the time I turn 103 Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, Welfare, Workfare, this-ain't-fair and No Child Left Behind will have been combined into one giant fuck up factory and the Republick of the North American Continent will be desperately hawking the very last section of the highway system to whatever Chinese conglomerate they can find that's bored enough to listen to them - well, they have to make payroll somehow, don't they?

As interesting as this rant may sound, none of it came up in a telephone conversation I had with Main Lady the other night.  You see, Cottontail came in for the weekend, so last Saturday night Main Lady, Cottontail and Centenarian were all over at Centenarian's home playing a word game that does not involve conquering territory or destroying enemy tokens, and which I therefore (wisely) declined to play.  They left me at Main Lady's home to entertain myself as best I could.  I had a couple DVDs, a bottle of good whiskey and Excellent Rachmaninoff for company.  What more could I ask for?  Then I got a surprise.

I settled Excellent Rachmaninoff on the couch and called Main Lady.

"Hello?"

"Hi Sweetie.  It's me."

"Oh!  I was just thinking about you!  I - "

"No.  It's me, Jack."

"Oh."

"Yeah.  Look, I was wondering if you've been feeding your cats regularly."

"Well, Cottontail fed them both this morning.  Hold on and I'll ask her."

What does he mean, did I feed them?  Of course I fed them!  What does he think I am, anyway?  A gun owner or something?

"She says she fed them, Jack."

"Well, the reason I was asking is that I just saw little Ebony run across the floor carrying a mouse."

"What?!"

"I said, the reason - "

"No, I heard you.  Well... good.  Was it dead?"

"Yes, I think it was quite dead."

"What are you going to do about that?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"Nothing.  Ebony has caught herself a little snack, and I see no reason to do anything about it."

"Oh, well - it was probably a toy mouse, wasn't it?  One of those little cloth mouses that the cats play with."

"No, this was the real deal."

"Well, I - hold on, Jack."

Cottontail!  Ebony caught a mouse and she's eating it!

Oh gross!

"Well, I don't know what to do.  I suppose just let her have it."

"Yeah, that's what I suppose as well.  Anyway, I'm going to have another drink and walk the dog.  Bye now."

click.

I shut the doors to the TV room to keep the dog from stealing Ebony's mouse.  Ebony was in the foyer, and by her actions I deduced that the mouse still had some play left in it.  Ebony industriously swatted the mouse around, then would carefully walk away pretending not to notice the mouse, then would spin around and hook the mouse with her claw just as it ran for the closet.  Great fun!


I suppose I should conclude this little vignette with something suitably philosophical about nature and the way of the world, but nothing suggests itself.  Main Lady has a proven mouser, cats are designed to live nicely on one mouse per day, and as a hunter myself I have a great deal of respect for cats.

Here's how!

Ebony the Cat