“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” – Edmund Burke
“Mice are shitting in my food.” – Me, last week
Alison is sitting on the windowsill, watching the street. It’s on her short list of favourite activities. The repertoire also includes: rubbing her face against corners, jumping expertly into places where food is kept/ places you’re positively sure she cannot reach (and you will always be wrong about that), and murdering things.
We took her bell off last night to let her hunt. I was in bed reading a book when I remembered I had left something downstairs.
I went downstairs, and because I had taken her bell off, I had no idea where she was, but I figured she was still tracking the mouse.
Damn, she’s quick.
I walked into the kitchen. She was just sitting there with a bored look on her face while a small brown mouse tried to move around her. I turned around and went back upstairs.
I was hoping the mouse’s heart would just stop, but when I went down again twenty minutes later, she was still hunting it (torturing it) under the couch. And again twenty minutes after that.
I figured it would be easiest to let Alison just finish the job I hired her to do instead of interfering. People have had cats around for thousands of years for this exact reason, but I’m sitting here in 2017 feeling bad about it. Probably because of Disney.
She finally got around to it.
Anyway, I guess the moral of the story is that cats aren’t evil. Just chaos machines. Just kidding. There is no moral. Except that it took her ten minutes to track down a mouse that has outsmarted us for two months. God help us if we’re ever stuck in the wild.
Also I composed a song in Alison’s honour, called Tiny Panther, set to the tune of Tina Turner’s Private Dancer. It makes me feel better.
I’m hopeful this serves as a warning to the other mice now, and they just leave.