Klondike Kat Always Gets His Mouse!

If that headline means anything to you, you're either old like me or you watched a lot of television growing up like I did. Congratulations. But the headline has new meaning to me today because – drumroll, please! – my Hakeem Wallace felled a mighty (icky) mouse in our home yesterday!

Yes, I thought the whole mouse saga was over, too. I haven't really seen any signs of fresh, new rodents in a long time and I really thought I had the problem licked. (Wow, I kind of wish I hadn't written "rodents" and "licked" in the same sentence there.) But then yesterday morning as I stood in the kitchen sleepily preparing Hakeem's breakfast at about 530am just before going to the gym, a little gray mouse darted out from under the stove or the fridge and ran across the room! The diseased varmint didn't even have the decency to try and hide his presence by sneaking creepily along the baseboards and leaving quietly. It skittered diagonally across the checkered tile floor and into a closet that would have taken me forever to dig through and I had no time because I had a class to attend at 600am. Plus I didn't want to find it. After "the incident" happened, I put Hakeem's vittles down on the floor and looked at him sleeping on the living room carpet and asked him what he was good for. In his defense, he did not see the vermin assault my kitchen because he was too busy snoozing, but still, he should have a sixth sense about these things.

So horrified was I that a live mouse had invaded in the hot month of July that I had no choice but to talk about it at work. I had been so surprised during the mouse months a couple of years ago to find out that almost everyone has, or has had, mice. It was oddly comforting to hear their stories even though it didn't change the fact that I was living amongst the hairy beasts. Folks at work assured me that mice can visit anytime of year and that when you least expect them – expect them! I stewed about that mouse all day while pondering if now was the time to burn everything I own and start over with nothing. I pictured myself turning into Carl from Caddyshack, attempting to kill that gopher no matter what the cost. Then last night after a full day of work and an evening of beers, I came home to a dark loft. Hakeem greeted me at the door and we walked into the living room together. After I patted his tummy as is our ritual, I turned to walk through the dining room (Can I really call it a dining room? Perhaps dining area is better!), and caught sight of a very little, very dead, gray mouse with a bloody puncture wound through its gut. I never knew that having dead vermin in my home could make me so happy! My brave, obese Hakeem did what kitties everywhere do all the time, at least when they don't weigh twenty-four pounds and aren't entering their golden years. He killed the mouse! I admit I doubted him, which I'm sure I will eternally regret, but in the end he proved he is my hero and one Hell of a great animal.