M-O-U-S-E

Again. At least I know it's coming -- because Casey is such the little huntress. She was acting weird around the closet under the stairs, even got the door open and sat just inside. I got brave when I got home from work, and pulled everything out. All my Christmas stuff. All my extra small appliances (rice cooker, blender, ice cream maker, etc). Took the flashlight and looked. Nothing.

Casey took this opportunity to lay at the back of the closet. A jiggling can of Pounce rectified that long enough for me to stack everything back in there. And neater than it was. Bonus!

Later that evening, I decide to do a little work on the computer. I closed the front door, just to be safe, I guess. But I live in the country. In Ithaca. But I closed and locked it anyway. No sooner than I sit at the computer than I hear Casey jump off the kitchen counter. Loud. And here she comes up the stairs with something in her mouth. I run into the bathroom and close the door.

Not sure why I ran that way. I am now locked in the bathroom, with no phone and no clear way out around my cat and her new toy. I open the door slowly. She is on the stairs, playing "chicken" with the mouse. Letting it climb up a stair or two and then knocking it back down. I can't go down the stairs -- too icky!

I run back in the computer room and shut the door. So now I have entertainment, a phone, etc. But I'm still locked in a room, with no happy way out. I could call my mom, but she lives an hour away. So I do what any reasonable, self-reliant, confident woman does -- I looked up my landlord's phone number on the internet and called him.

He and his wife walked across the street from their house, found Casey playing with the mouse in the bathroom, and trapped in under the garbage can. "He's not going to hurt you. Want to see him?"

No thanks -- they let him out near the woods.

I honestly can't do this again. This is why I need a man. To take care of things like this!