Cat and Mouse

My family (he and she) had gone to bed. That's when I usually retire too, at the foot of the bed or in the crook of their knees if I really want to get comfortable. They've learned not to move too much as it disturbs me. That night, I heard a rustle and squeak. A mouse on my territory! Unacceptable. I leapt off the bed after it, but it disappeared under the wardrobe before I could get it. My people mumbled and grumbled and turned over in bed, but didn't even get up.

Next day I spent hours crouched in front of the wardrobe, staring unblinkingly, whiskers forward in full alert mode. I got cramped and stiff and nothing happened. I had time to think while waiting for that mouse. I realized that my people don't appreciate the effort I go to. They freaked out when I caught a baby squirrel and hid it under the rug. It was ridiculous. I'd only eaten the head. There was plenty left to share. No need for all that fuss. So why was I going to all this trouble? I left the wardrobe and went to the couch for a good grooming and a nap.

That evening, while they were watching television, that mouse ran bold as brass across the room in front of them. They shrieked and looked at me. I looked back disdainfully. They chased it around and eventually cornered it with a broom and a dustpan and a lot of crashing and banging. I think he dispatched it by whopping it on the head with the broom handle. Such amateurs! Maybe they'll appreciate my skill more in future.