Sometimes, I don't understand animals around here. Some of them are acting like I'm Godzilla about to raze their village.
Only yesterday, I found a mouse hiding in the shrubbery. Now here's what I don't get: instead of coming out to greet the new kid in town, the mouse hustles to his next piece of cover, a little cardboard box next to the trashcan. What is it with manners around here?
Okay, so the mouse didn't see me, I'm thinking. It happens. I admit this is a large strip of forest. There are predators out there, like birds, snakes, and...well, I can't really think of any other. Anyway, the poor thing has probably been blinded by the sun. In that case, let's make it a little easier for him. I slowly crawl toward the garbage can, slowly, so as not to scare him. And the next thing I know, the mouse dashes out toward the flower pots. I'm beginning to like this game. So the little guy is playing hide and seek? Nice. Game on.
After repeating this cute little cat-and-mouse game (still don't know where people got that expression from), it suddenly dawns on me that the mouse might actually be blind. That song 'Three Blind Mice'? There must be some truth to that. And what if this one is one of the famous three musketeers? But then, I am thinking, how will the mouse know that I am here? And where is the fun part for him in all this?
All the mouse needs is just a little excitement, I am guessing. So the next time the mouse tries to scurry for a little hiding place, I pounce on him. There! Didn't think I could catch you, did you? But I am not a cat to shortchange your entertainment dollar here. With a quick flick of the paw, I launch the mouse into the air. I can hear a loud exciting shriek coming from the mouse, like those kids on the swings or adults on roller coasters. That mouse is having the thrill of his life. See? There are cats that can do good in this world.
Following the mouse's bungee jump, the mouse moves a little slower, he's not as agitated anymore. That's good, now we have finally established the most important element in this friendship: trust. I knew he would come around. He sits at my feet, peeping and wincing. Okay, then. The mouse wants an encore. It's nice to be appreciated. I flick the mouse up again and watch him fly end over end through the air, a long shriek accompanying him.
The mouse isn't running anymore. And why would he? This is the biggest thrill ever for him. So next, I decide to take him to one of my favorite places near the balcony. I can hear him shriek a little more while he's wiggling in my mouth. Understandable, that's the fastest he will ever go, and he knows it.
So the mouse has had a bungee jump. Now it's time for cliff diving. Again, I flick the mouse into the air, but I must make sure. My right arm recoils before giving him a good swat over the balcony railing. Wow! That mouse can fly for a mile! Again a long, piercing peep. Sad to think that the mouse, before I arrived here, didn't have any fun. He's made up for that in one short day.
I jump over the balcony railing and find the mouse lying motionless on the ground. All right, so the little guy's a little tired, I'm thinking. I don't blame him. To gather his bearings and be ready for tomorrow, he will need to rest.
I let him sleep. Good night, mouse. He's so tired, he looks like he's out cold. Hmm, maybe this is not the right place for the little guy. I take him in my mouth and bury him in the ground. There, now he's safe. Sweet dreams, fella.
Only yesterday, I found a mouse hiding in the shrubbery. Now here's what I don't get: instead of coming out to greet the new kid in town, the mouse hustles to his next piece of cover, a little cardboard box next to the trashcan. What is it with manners around here?
Okay, so the mouse didn't see me, I'm thinking. It happens. I admit this is a large strip of forest. There are predators out there, like birds, snakes, and...well, I can't really think of any other. Anyway, the poor thing has probably been blinded by the sun. In that case, let's make it a little easier for him. I slowly crawl toward the garbage can, slowly, so as not to scare him. And the next thing I know, the mouse dashes out toward the flower pots. I'm beginning to like this game. So the little guy is playing hide and seek? Nice. Game on.
After repeating this cute little cat-and-mouse game (still don't know where people got that expression from), it suddenly dawns on me that the mouse might actually be blind. That song 'Three Blind Mice'? There must be some truth to that. And what if this one is one of the famous three musketeers? But then, I am thinking, how will the mouse know that I am here? And where is the fun part for him in all this?
All the mouse needs is just a little excitement, I am guessing. So the next time the mouse tries to scurry for a little hiding place, I pounce on him. There! Didn't think I could catch you, did you? But I am not a cat to shortchange your entertainment dollar here. With a quick flick of the paw, I launch the mouse into the air. I can hear a loud exciting shriek coming from the mouse, like those kids on the swings or adults on roller coasters. That mouse is having the thrill of his life. See? There are cats that can do good in this world.
Following the mouse's bungee jump, the mouse moves a little slower, he's not as agitated anymore. That's good, now we have finally established the most important element in this friendship: trust. I knew he would come around. He sits at my feet, peeping and wincing. Okay, then. The mouse wants an encore. It's nice to be appreciated. I flick the mouse up again and watch him fly end over end through the air, a long shriek accompanying him.
The mouse isn't running anymore. And why would he? This is the biggest thrill ever for him. So next, I decide to take him to one of my favorite places near the balcony. I can hear him shriek a little more while he's wiggling in my mouth. Understandable, that's the fastest he will ever go, and he knows it.
So the mouse has had a bungee jump. Now it's time for cliff diving. Again, I flick the mouse into the air, but I must make sure. My right arm recoils before giving him a good swat over the balcony railing. Wow! That mouse can fly for a mile! Again a long, piercing peep. Sad to think that the mouse, before I arrived here, didn't have any fun. He's made up for that in one short day.
I jump over the balcony railing and find the mouse lying motionless on the ground. All right, so the little guy's a little tired, I'm thinking. I don't blame him. To gather his bearings and be ready for tomorrow, he will need to rest.
I let him sleep. Good night, mouse. He's so tired, he looks like he's out cold. Hmm, maybe this is not the right place for the little guy. I take him in my mouth and bury him in the ground. There, now he's safe. Sweet dreams, fella.
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