I can hear it, the call of the wild, no mouse. It is over there I can feel it in my whiskers: a sweet high pitched sound. It is that time of the year again when the poor little mice must find a nice warm place to spend the Winter. I even pawed a message on the entrance to the mouse hole: Garden shed available as mouse sleeping quarters, feline care assured. Unfortunately no-one came. I would really have looked after them and made sure that they were fed well. They even love vitamine pellets. Next year they would have grown fat and lazy under my care. What a variety that would have been in my diet.
Only this morning my nemesis, Roschti, the feline next door, discovered a lonely little mouse hiding beneath the big container where Mrs. Human puts all the garden waste. I only wanted to help Roschti find the mouse but he told me, accompanied by paw swipes and strong percussional meows, that it was his mouse. I tried to explain that mice belong to no-one, they are free to go and do what they want. A discussion followed and I decided it was safer to sleep over it. In the meanwhile the mouse escaped whilst we were discussing the problem which solved the argument.
And now I must go, I can again hear the sounds of mouse percussion in the distance. Yes, I am coming, stay where you are.
The Cat Chronicles 
Dear Tabby, Our human is happy because — so far — this fall no mice have tried living in our house. My “little” sister, Bear, and I are very good at spotting mice, but we suck at catching them. I keep telling my human that’s not our job. Our job is just to point them out but she says my Siberian husky sister/mothers were great at catching (and eating) mice and I should have learned that when I had the chance. I hate it when she lectures me. I’m sorry your nemesis does not understand the advantages of cooperative hunting. That’s something we canines excel at. Yours forever and ever, Dusty T. Dog
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Meow Dusty
Our mice do not live in houses, unfortunately. I have often invited them, but for some reason they run away. I can see a mouse kilometers away, but unfortunately they disappear before I get there. The word co-operative does not exist in meow. Mrs. Human says it is when we help each other. I am glad to say that Mrs. Human knows what it means, because it is her purpose as my human to co-operate with my wishes. I think I have now got the meaning of the word. Co-operate=concentrate on the feline needs and make your feline happy. I must register that entry in our meow dictionary.
Tabby T. Cat
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Hi Tabby, We’d make a good team. I point out the mouse and you catch it. 🙂 Yrs. Alwys. DTD
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Meow Dusty
but I want to eat it as well, I am the expert mouse taster
Tabby T. Cat
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Hi Tabby, You can eat it. I’d just help you find it! 🙂 And scare off other felines. Yrs. Alwys. DTD
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We are living upstairs, so I have no idea what (if anything) the mice are doing in the basement. I don’t want to think about it. Both of our Scotties are supposed to be born-again mouse and rat hunters, but neither has shown any inclination to work for a living. Duke likes eating wood, but not mice. Back to the mouse traps, I fear.
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Now and again we get a share of the booty in the shape of a dead mouse left in front of the window, but if the cats don’t want to eat it, then neither do we. Our blind cat Fluffy was the king mouse killer when he could see. He ate everything, tail as well. Tabby doesn’t bother, she says she had better things to do with her time than hunting mice. She prefers bird watching.
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I play a percussion instrument! I drum, and you all know that that is a percussion instrument.
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My husband has played the drums since he was 15 and he is now 78, so work that one out. He has played in many groups and even now has a jam session now and again, but strictly mainstream jazz – Davis, Adderly etc. etc. no rock music, although he likes that as well. The problem being married to a drmmer is that if he has a gig somewhere he has to assemble the drums. It would have been easier with a trumpet or guitar.
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