UGH. Mike is away in Chicago for a business trip and that always makes me sad. For some reason I always seem to have a crisis when he is gone. This time has been no exception.
Last night, after being at the school for 14 hours and just finding out that this overwhelming schedule is going to last longer than I thought due to a teacher quitting, I make it home around10:30 and I pretty much just want to take a shower, say hi to that cats, and go to sleep. I pull in to the back yard and shut the gates behind me and I feel a little sad an skittish because Mike always waits outside for me when I get home late. I walk into the house an the stink of the trash can hits me. Apparently, I need to take the trash out. I go into the living room to turn the air down because it is so hot and stinking and my cats are there meowing their hellos. Fiona, dear little sweet orphaned six fingered paws furry little purry snuggly drooling kneady(kneading), FIONA, is batting at something. I think it is a toy...until I saw that it is a MOUSE! and a not quite dead one. I scream. Fiona looks at me confused because obviously this is a present for me. Shit. So I try to, between my screams, thank her sweetly, and tell her that that was so nice of her to bring me a present(scream) but (OH GOD LET IT JUST DIE) I am (!((#(@()#, why isn't Mike here) just kind of scared of (scream cause it twitches again) of mice. I scream again and she and figgy dart upstairs. I then have to figure out how to get this dying mouse out of my house. I am sweating, I am cussing and I am crying. I am calling Mike frantically and he is not picking up. I know no one here and besides it is late at night. I am mad that this is happening. I begin to hyperventilate. I try to get a hold of myself with a lot of,"Ok, get it together, you can do this) Finally, after a breakdown and figuring out how to get it out I put the poor little dying mouse in a cup...screaming (me not the mouse) into the trash outside. I keep thinking I see other mice and am still sobbing at this point. I take a shower try to coax the cats out from under my bed and try to make Fiona feel better about her present. I also told her that it was a really good thing to get the mouse cause they shouldn't be in the house. I am still freaked out and frankly a little afraid to go downstairs. Another ten hour day of classes calls. Gotta go.
5 comments:
Wow- that does sound like an ordeal. Of course, when my sister's cat was staying with us in Baltimore and the same thing happened, Jason and I sat on the stairs and watched her "play" with the poor, dying mouse. I think we even had a running commentary, sort of like those nature shows on PBS where some guy with a British accent is saying, "notice the poise and grace of this great cat as she disembowels her prey", meanwhile you are watching something that should definitely be rated "R" and most likely belongs in a horror flick.
I guess we are all different, eh?
Merry--that is so crazy! But you described it so vividly, and humorously, that i am really glad you told us! I am not glad it happened, I guess, but it does make for good blog material...:-)
When does Mike get back?
Oh my gosh!! No fun. It wouldn't have been so bad if you didn't have to dispose of it too! I think its pretty funny that the cats were scarred to come out! What would have been funny is seeing figs fight a mouse with his lion cut! But really sad.
Oh,um, figgy is kind of a cowardly lion. I hate to say it but he is scared of stuff like that usually.
What a brave and wonderful kitty Fiona is, ridding your house of pestilence. If you don't start appreciating Fiona's mousing abilities, Meredith, we'll just have to take the cutie-pie off your hands.
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