I saw it first.
A little dark blob skittering across the room.
Unlike the common depiction seen in sit coms, I did not scream and jump up on the nearest chair. As far as I was concerned, the hunt was on.
One cat, one, in a household of pampered felines, took up the quest with me. But Lady tracked the mouse down and batted at in a manner that seemed almost affectionate. She ran after it from room to room looking back at me every now and then as if to say, "Thanks for the great toy!"
But she got bored.
Hunting the mouse by myself seemed more than a little ineffective.
Tino, a long-haired cat of leisure, was beyond apathetic when I plunked him down next to it.
Sam, a tough ass, was interested but annoyed with me.
By this point, a tour of me and the mouse through the house had huge pieces of furniture moved at odd angles and lots of irked cats. It did lead me to realized I needed to clean under the refrigerator and I briefly wondered if I might hold a world record for sheer size and number of dust bunnies.
Eventually, I cornered the mouse in the dining room, behind the curio cabinet. I cornered it. Me. A big, clunky, goofy human.
It was tired. Now was the time. The time for mouse demise.
Plunking Sam next to it once again proved futile. Sam was very curious and even gave a half-hearted bat at the little rodent - but it did the unexpected. It turned around and hit back.
This put Sam off her game big time. She was clearly disgusted with herself but at a seemingly lose as to what to do about it.
I called in the big guns: Maude Gonne, a huntress of great renown in the household. She walked with swagger and loved fiercely. I grabbed her from a place in the sun and set her on the beast. She, too, gave it a small smack. And once again, the mouse hit back. A little one, two bunch and a great show of attitude.
The cats were flummoxed.
Dianne and I, watching the whole thing, were amazed and amused.
This plucky mouse deserved to live.
Dianne fetched a bowl and a record (remember those?) and I captured the Warrior Mouse. We took him outside and across the street where we set him free next to some pines.
He immediately ran across the street and headed back to the house.