One down, ????? to go.
And like last year, my cat seem to be hopeless at catching them. I see her, sitting with her nose pressed against a grate or sitting like a statue trying to will herself to fit under the refrigerator, but she rarely hits pay dirt.
So, we set our humane traps and every couple of nights we get one and we promptly march it out the door, head waaaaay across the yard, release it and hope it doesn’t find itself back in. (I wish I could play Wild Kingdom and put mini trackers them to see how many actually do find their way back. That could certainly prompt us to reevaluate our catch-and-release strategy.)
But anyway . . . today, while playing outside with the girls, the cat came happily bounding out of the woods from precisely the spot where we deposit the evicted rodents. At a distance, I could see she had something in her mouth. Hoping it wasn’t a bird or a rabbit, I ran toward her.
As she got closer, I could plainly see that it was a dead mouse. I’m willing to bet it’s one of the ones we dumped out that way in the last few days. What makes me think that?
She was extra proud. Prancing around and purring and rolling herself over for a belly scratch I could just imagine her thoughts: And you thought you could escape me. Fool! Now you’ll pay. Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!
And in my imagination she sounded exactly like Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty. Which is no surprise because I’ve seen that about eighty-bazillion times in the last two months.
So I gave her a scratch on the head and left her to her prey. Maybe now that she’s got the taste of it, she’ll work a little harder when she’s inside.