M-I-C-K-E-Y

I noticed Casey staring at the stove before I went upstairs for bed last night. Normally, she doesn't lay on the floor -- she is a counter and table top kind of cat. But there she was, crouched in front of the stove, tail flicking. I knew what it could mean -- but didn't want to know. I went upstairs and fell alseep watching TV.

Two hours later, I hear her playing in the room. Playing so much that it wakes me up. The TV is still on and from that light I think I see what she's been playing with. I turn on the light and put on my glasses -- yup, a dead mouse. Ugh!!

So while I'm trying to talk myself out of hyperventilating, standing on top of my bed, Casey begins throwing this dead rodent in the air. I scream at her to stop. "But, mom," I can only imagine her saying, "look what I found."

I run to the bathroom and get the trash can, and put it next to the mouse. Then I will it to go in. No such luck. "Casey, throw the mouse in the can."

Apparently, in cat-speak that means "put the dead rodent back in your mouth and take it downstairs where there is more room to throw it around."

I grab the can, dig my feet into my slippers and run down the stairs, hitting every light switch along the way. I lay the can on its side next to the mouse and Casey sits in front of it, between me and this mess I have to deal with. "Good girl, stay between us." There was an empty lotion bottle in the trash, which I use to push the mouse with. Tie up the grocery bag and put the whole thing on the front stoop.

Oh yeah, I'm gonna sleep well tonight. *Sigh* I don't know if I could handle this again.

On the bright side, I was awake to watch the end of the basketball game.