cat and mouse

From this title you might think I'm speaking metaphorically, which judging from my life lately is not that much of a stretch. Instead, however, I am speaking literally. The cat: Midori killed a mouse: of no name. I was typing on the computer in the living room. I hear a horrible banging and screeching noise. I thought Midori might have crawled into somewhere she couldn't get out of or that she might be hurt somehow. So I get up and go look for her because I cannot tell where the noise is coming from. I look in all the bedrooms and the bathroom. I call her name. When I come out of the bathroom, I see her standing in the middle of the living room with a dead mouse in her mouth. She drops it, continues to play with it until I move into action. It took forever to get her away from the thing before I scooped up with disposable plastic cups, put it in a baggie and threw it away.

For the rest of the afternoon she sniffed around for it, for more mice, whatever and then seemed kind of weirded out and traumatized. Skittish.

I call the manager of our apartment. His response: "You'll have that."