We have a doggy door.
One of those little openings that our puppy can use whenever the urge-to-go-outside hits. I love it. I can work all day and not worry about Oscar dog dancing around with his legs crossed. We also have a underground radio fence, so I don't have to worry about him running away, or getting lost, but that's another story.
That's the good side about having a doggy door.
There's also a bad side.
Cats can also go through the doggy door.
We currently have 2 cats. How we got those 2 cats are also other stories for other days.
Cat #1. Named "Spider-Slayer", "Spike", "Gandalf Salrong Blah Blah the Grey", or more commonly called "Kitty". He is young, easily spooked, and very soft to the touch. He loves to sneak out the doggy door and park himself underneath the bird feeders out on the deck. The good news is that he's not a very good hunter. The bad news is he's getting better.
Cat #2. Named "Burns", not to be confused with "Mr. Burns", another cat we had until last winter. Burns is a pretty old warrior cat. He's been through many a battle. He's had his back leg totally shattered, broken off tooth that abcessed through his lower jaw, has urinary tract disease, and had his eye poked out. (The vet was able to put the eye back in and fix him up pretty good, but we're pretty sure that eye is blind.)
He's also a master hunter.
Every evening like clockwork Burns will announce his arrival with the nightly kill. His meow takes on a different timbre and we immediately know he's got a mouse. We run for the stairs, his favorite mouse eating spot. If we're really fast we can usually grab Burns and throw him outside before he gulps it down. He's learned he needs to eat it really fast before we take it away from him. I don't think he even chews. It just slides down in one long slurp.
We've learned to close up the doggy door every evening about dusk. Once in a while, though, we forget.
The little mouse critters are usually very dead before Burns brings them in, but once in a while he will bring one with a little fight left. That's when things get interesting. Burns has usually wounded them enough that its fairly easy to plop a bucket on top of them and wait until Mike comes home to remove it. I should rephrase that and say it's wounded enough that Joni can plop a bucket on top of it, I'm probably standing on the dining room table cowering in fear.
Me and mice don't jive.
A couple of nights ago I was home alone and I heard "the meow".
Crap.
I run upstairs and don't see Burns anywhere.
I go outside to see if he's ingesting his meal outside (he's learned to do that sometimes so we won't take it away from him).
No Burns.
Oh well, I think, and go into my bedroom.
OH CRAP!!!
Burns has a tiny little baby mouse on my carpet in my bedroom and it's VERY MUCH ALIVE!!!
I'm torn between running down the hall screaming in terror and nervously watching from the doorway. I swallow my bravery pill and watch. Burns lets the mouse run around and then pounces on it. It was a very tiny baby mouse. I just knew Burns was letting that thing have way too much freedom. He was going to lose it. I couldn't take it any more, so I went to close up the doggy door. (Why didn't I do it 15 minutes ago?) I turned around and there was Burns. He really wanted me to let him go back outside.
Wait a minute. Where's the mouse?
I knew it. That mouse was so little Burns didn't think it was worth the effort.
I threw Burns back in my bedroom and shut the door. I really wanted him to catch that mouse! He had totally lost interest.
I didn't think I'd be able to sleep in my bedroom knowing there was a rogue mouse loose, but after putting everything up high and making sure none of my blankets were anywhere near the floor, and, oh yea, after taking a sleeping pill, I managed to sleep pretty good.
Fast forward to the next evening. Joni came into my room and said, "mom, come here". I followed her out to the living room where she pointed at "Kitty". He had his nose buried under the recliner, his tail swishing rhythmically back and forth, just as it does when he's under the bird feeders.
We had located the big scary baby mouse. Mike, Joni, Andy, and I were all home, so I did the sensible thing and retreated to my bedroom. Mike, Joni, and Andy are all experienced mouse catchers. They threw Oscar in my room with me and went to do the deed. (Oscar is no help in mice catching.)
I heard shouts, felt thumps and bumps, and more yelling and shouting. At one point Mike yelled through my bedroom door, "WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR!"
Like that was going to happen.
Finally the din quieted, Oscar quit barking, I heard the front door open and shut, and then Joni came in.
"we got it."
I knew they would. I thought about helping them, but I would have just gotten in the way. *grin*
