Yesterday evening as Jen, Ten and I were sitting around schmoozing, Cake started going all Simone Biles near our front door. What the furry fuck, Cake? Ten and Jen spotted the object of our Angel Butt’s attraction immediately. The boy had discovered a little house mousey.
We watched him chase and toy with his new buddy for a couple minutes (with Jen and I cheering Cake on) before Ten stepped in to be the lone adult in the room. He separated our ferocious pee-wee panther from his quarry, capturing Fred (yes, I named the house mouse) in a glass jar. Ten then carried Fred out to the yard where he set the little fella free. 
Our jungle warrior kitten was confused—“where did my new playmate/victim go? He was just here a second ago!” Cake hunted around, possibly hoping that Fred’s brother George was ready to go pata a pata in a battle to the death. Ah nope. IF George had been in the house, he was, wisely, making himself mighty scarce.
As much as I like to keep the bloodsports off the good carpet (it’s just hell to clean up), I felt bad for my now confused battling bruiser. Obviously he deserved treats, pats and mega praise for defending us against the scary, fierce invading forces. And he got them.
Did you know?
- The average House Mouse can run as fast as 8mph. Wow!
- The little devils are polygynous and make babies year round.(Horny or hellbent on keeping their species alive and thriving?)
- In the wild, most don’t make it past 12-18 months of age. In captivity they can live up to five years (but are any of those years filled with freewheeling fun? Doubt it).
- It was recently discovered that boy mice produce complex, ultrasonic songs in response to female sex pheromones. Basically, dudes are singing Percy Sledge, Barry White and The Beatles to attract baby mommas. Okay then!
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