From the Desk of Natasia:
by Natasia Minners
I have discovered something new and exciting! A great way to pass the time! It’s called mouse hunting and, although I had a slight aversion to it at first, boy does it ever reap the rewards!
It all goes back to the days when I was but a tiny kitten living in a small community by the water. One of my favorite toys was a small catnip scented furry creature with a shoestring tail. My brother liked those kinds of toys, too, but told me tales of the animal this toy represented. Rascal said that mice, as they were called, were tremendous amounts of fun as they ran very quickly, made squeaky noises when caught and were tons of fun to play with, sometime lasting hours until they became boring.
Rascal had told me that he had once glorified in the mouse population in the house we lived in, using them to hone his kitty hunting skills and get exercise all while having loads of fun. But, alas, Rascal was so good at this game called mouse hunting that, by the time I came to the house, there were no mice left to hunt.
Then we moved to a new place that was mouse-free until the people next door started having a mouse problem. I heard some pitter patter in the walls and Rascal said that he was finally going to teach me how to catch mice. But the human we lived with had already plugged up any possible entry hole for the mice, effectively destroying my chances at learning an age-old skill set.
We moved to the second floor in this new house many years later. Rascal said he smelled a mouse. I didn’t know what a mouse was supposed to smell like, but I was excited. And then, a week later, old greedy guts leapt across the apartment in uncharacteristic fashion. He came running out of the kitchen with something in his mouth and then proceeded to lay on top of it. I never got a chance to learn about what he had captured, because the stupid human pulled Rascal out of the way, beat the furry thing with a sneaker and then threw it out in the trash outside.
There were no more mice for a while, but after Rascal passed away, something happened. I was sitting there with my human while she tapped away at her computer and I saw this furry thing skitter across the kitchen floor. I sat rooted to the carpet in the living room, wondering at what I saw. It looked like my toy, but it moved superfast. Amazed, I sat and stared while the furry little creature ate my cat food. Ching, ching, ching, for something so small, this thing had a healthy appetite.
It took the human a few minutes to realize that it wasn’t me eating out of the bowl…duh, I was sitting beside her for fish’s sake. Then, the stupid human starts chasing it and questioning my catitude because I was observing instead of killing. This went on for a week or so. The human’s brother thought it would be a good idea if he shoved me in the kitchen the moment he saw the mouse, thinking I would suddenly learn how to catch the thing.
No one was giving me a chance to study my supposed prey. I say supposed, because this creature was awfully small and…yes, I’m going to say it…sort of cute. I wasn’t sure I could kill such a cute thing. Besides, I’m a lot smaller than the two humans. If they were so hot to catch this thing, why didn’t they kill it? Of course, my question was answered a couple of weeks later when my human killed one right outside our door. Poor thing - he never knew what hit him. Oh well - he should have never entered the home of a blood thirsty human. For all I know, it was the human who taught Rascal his skills.
When we moved again, I was quite happy to discover that there were no fast running, furry creatures except outside the window. I have always enjoyed watching the furry things with the big, fluffy tails running by, so I was happy to see there were plenty of those in our new neighborhood. I occasionally had to remind the neighborhood strays to stay away from my window, but things had been quite for the most part. Until last week, when I heard some scratching in the laundry room. I stood guard at the door, much to the chagrin of my human who kept looking inside to find out why I was staring at the door for hours on end. Couldn’t she hear that?!
Then, one day, it happened. I was minding my own business, sort of half-sleeping on my couch when something darted out from under the laundry room door. Ahhhhhh! I screamed…yeah, I screamed - I was half awake. After refocusing, I could see a furry thing making its way up the counter. “Hey, human!” I yelled, “Come here!”
I yelled for a few minutes, then decided to go get her. After all, this creature was feeding on her food, not mine - the mouse had found bananas rather interesting. Weird, because I think bananas smell terrible. Maybe it was a health food nut. But I digress…I ran into the bedroom yelling and smacking the human with my paw. After a couple of minutes of this, the human got out of bed and followed for a couple of steps. When I ran to the kitchen, she said, “Oh hell no! It’s only two in the morning. Not time to eat yet. Go to sleep.” With that she went to bed and left me with this creature. After a few bites, the mouse left and guess who almost got blamed for eating the banana. That’s right, until the human saw mouse droppings, she thought that I had nibbled on the banana - ewwww!
The next night, I saw that mouse again. What should I do? The mouse was heading for the human’s coffee pot. It was obvious that the human wasn’t going to be able to do anything in time. I mean, just look what happened the night before, right? So, I decided that I would have to do something. After all, if a kitty wants something done right, she can’t count on a stupid human - she just has to do it herself. So, I chased that sucker out of there. Rascal was right - this was fun. I batted the thing around a bit and ended up chasing him right back under the laundry room door.
The next day, the humans put down some traps and that night, the mouse came out to play again. This time, I waited until he got to the edge of the counter and then I pounced. The mouse tried to run behind the stove and then SNAP! Well, that was the end of that. The mouse was stuck behind the oven and my fun was over. I howled my dissatisfaction. Of course, the human woke up for that - I was loud and rather angry about losing my new playmate. I could hear him back there taunting me, but couldn’t get to him. The next day, they took the sorry looking guy out of the house and I received much Fancy Feast for my efforts.
But I had learned a new thing! After thirteen years on this Earth, I had discovered how to catch a mouse and have fun with it. You see! Kitties can have fun no matter how old they are! Humans say that senior kitties are set in their ways, but they are wrong. Hear me senior kitties everywhere! You are never to old to play the mouse hunting game! Never! Take it from me, Natasia Minners: Cat Hunter Extraordinaire.
To read more feline prose, check out the following links:
Rascal Sees A Therapist
Rascal Sees A Therapist - Part 2
Natasia Sees A Therapist
Natasia Sees A Therapist - Part 2
Natasia Sees A Therapist - Part 3
Natasia's Note to Grandma
Natasia's Cat Toy Review
Why I Hate Halloween
My Love-Hate Relationship With Thanksgiving
Deck the Halls with Catnip Presents!
Ringing in the New Year with Catnip and Fancy Feast