Of Mice and Me
My girlfriend and I have a cat, named Silus. Technically he's Emily's cat, but as we all three are sharing a roof these days, I've taken at least a little bit of ownership over him. I am, and always will be, a dog person... they have more character, are generally not dicks about stuff, and they always seem happy... but Silus is, as cats go, pretty cool. He's open to keeping your feet warm on cold nights, for one thing, and he doesn't make a big deal out of needing attention all the time. If he were a human, he'd be that guy that's always sitting on the front stoop of your apartment building drinking a tallboy of Budwiser at two in the afternoon and is quick with a great new joke and, sure, he'll help you move a couch if that's what you need. He's always smiling and the sun always shines on him.
That's our cat. Or so I thought.
Last night, a dark and stormy night, it should be noted, Silus ripped off the mask and revealed himself to be a cold blooded killer!!!
Em and I were in bed, lights out, engaging in some pre-sleep banter, when Silus bounded up by our feet and began to swat something around on top of our covers. He has toys, little plush thingies, so I didn't think anything of it at first. Then, like a seasoned solider sensing a sniper in the treeline, I was suddenly aware that something was amiss. I brushed back our cat and reached out a hand to touch what I hoped would only be a bit of felt or string. It was cold and slimy. Adrenaline, fear, horror, revulsion, girlish fright and "the vapors" all shot through me like the bullets through Sonny Corleone at the toll booth. Emily, now aware that there was a problem at hand due to my subtle, wordless shaking and hyperventilating, turned on the bedside lamp.
It was a mouse. A mouse with a nearly severed head.
Silus stared at me like Manson at his trial; a look that said, "That's right. I killed it. I'd do it again, too, and not even blink."
The only thing that that came to mind was to go get paper towels and to, hopefully, not wet myself. My mind was racing. My heart, too, was racing. My stomach was roiling like the open seas. You may think I was being a bit of a wuss but, well, okay... you've got me there. I'm not one who's used to having dead things dropped at my feet like it ain't no thang. Call me spoiled. Emily of course was just fine. Using one of my socks, she scooped up the carcass and brought it into the kitchen where I shrieked manfully and calmly suggested that she, "Oh god, throw it out the window, throwitoutthewindow, aaaaaaiiiieeeee!!!!"
After we'd cleaned up the mess and she'd talked me back from the edge, we settled back into our bed and I, naturally, couldn't sleep. What if Silus decides that I am to be the next one to suffer the mouse's fate. Will I wake up one night staring into his gaping maw? Will the last thing I see be his dagger-like teeth closing for the kill?
As I write this, he sits at the foot of the bed, casually napping. We're at an uneasy truce because, while he did commit flagrant rodentcide, I'd rather not actually have mice running around our apartment all willy nilly. But I'm watching him. My eyes are open, brother. The next time he strikes, I'll be ready. Oh yes, I'll be ready.
That's our cat. Or so I thought.
Last night, a dark and stormy night, it should be noted, Silus ripped off the mask and revealed himself to be a cold blooded killer!!!
Em and I were in bed, lights out, engaging in some pre-sleep banter, when Silus bounded up by our feet and began to swat something around on top of our covers. He has toys, little plush thingies, so I didn't think anything of it at first. Then, like a seasoned solider sensing a sniper in the treeline, I was suddenly aware that something was amiss. I brushed back our cat and reached out a hand to touch what I hoped would only be a bit of felt or string. It was cold and slimy. Adrenaline, fear, horror, revulsion, girlish fright and "the vapors" all shot through me like the bullets through Sonny Corleone at the toll booth. Emily, now aware that there was a problem at hand due to my subtle, wordless shaking and hyperventilating, turned on the bedside lamp.
It was a mouse. A mouse with a nearly severed head.
Silus stared at me like Manson at his trial; a look that said, "That's right. I killed it. I'd do it again, too, and not even blink."
The only thing that that came to mind was to go get paper towels and to, hopefully, not wet myself. My mind was racing. My heart, too, was racing. My stomach was roiling like the open seas. You may think I was being a bit of a wuss but, well, okay... you've got me there. I'm not one who's used to having dead things dropped at my feet like it ain't no thang. Call me spoiled. Emily of course was just fine. Using one of my socks, she scooped up the carcass and brought it into the kitchen where I shrieked manfully and calmly suggested that she, "Oh god, throw it out the window, throwitoutthewindow, aaaaaaiiiieeeee!!!!"
After we'd cleaned up the mess and she'd talked me back from the edge, we settled back into our bed and I, naturally, couldn't sleep. What if Silus decides that I am to be the next one to suffer the mouse's fate. Will I wake up one night staring into his gaping maw? Will the last thing I see be his dagger-like teeth closing for the kill?
As I write this, he sits at the foot of the bed, casually napping. We're at an uneasy truce because, while he did commit flagrant rodentcide, I'd rather not actually have mice running around our apartment all willy nilly. But I'm watching him. My eyes are open, brother. The next time he strikes, I'll be ready. Oh yes, I'll be ready.
posted by Clinton at 4:20 PM
3 Comments:
O Silas, what hath thou wrought?
You should make him wear a red collar and call it "The Scarlet Meow-Meow".
No, seriously ... do it.
I'm going to create a hip new children's cartoon and call it "Ghost Mouse 2000!!!" The "2000" part is for extra hipness.
Super color scheme, I like it! Good job. Go on.
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