Mouse Totentanz

 Late Thursday night, just after The Amazing Bob and I slipped off to Dream Land, our fierce and adorable young tuxedo cat leaped onto my thighs, announcing her presence with authority.

When she does this she normally settles down, after a vigorous round of bathing, for a nap on my tummy. Not this night though. She was jumping, tumbling and jeté-ing as though she was trying out for the Bolshoi’s next production of The Firebird.

Rising out of my dream haze I began to wonder what was happening, what was up. And then I felt a much lighter weight, a significantly smaller set of paws land on me.

‘Bloody hell on toast points, Hunny,’ I says to the now awake TAB, ‘she’s got a mouse.’  TAB turned on the light and yep, sure enough, our little hit cat was doing an athletic pas de deux with Stuart Little.

They both stopped the show, briefly, when the lights came up but then plunged back into their Tom and Jerry-esque rondeau. Coco had Stuart cornered in the folds of our quilt right over my knees. In an attempt to flush him out, Bob fluffed and flounced the quilt. Yes, this drove our little grey friend out of hiding BUT he made a northward run for it -- toward my face.

It was at this point that I squealed like a 1950’s cartoon cliche housewife and clumsily sprung out of bed. Oh yeah, I am just SO proud of myself.

I now watched from the sidelines while Bob and our furry exterminator played...wait for it...BADMINTON with Stuart. Coco would catch and hurl him into the air towards Bob. Bob would hit him back. Possibly, probably, Bob was trying to get the little rodent away from himself though he DID have a very interesting smile on his mug all the while. Bob did -- not Stuart. Stuart wasn't amused in the least.

Finally, one of these jokers batted Stuart off the bed where he took refuge in one of my sneakers. Sigh. I figured he was taking a fear induced wiz right in my nice new cornflower blue New Balance.

Eventually our heroic champion nailed her quarry underneath my corner reading chair where she, given the following morning’s evidence, went all traditional and bit the tiny head off and chewed on tiny feet.

Somehow we’ve got to teach our fierce little princess warrior that she should avoid waging battles in our bed -- particularly when we’re trying to sleep.