Ah, the joys of kitty-parenthood.
Wednesday night, my mother yelled for me, saying that Demetri had just ran through the dog door with something in his mouth, dashing straight for my bedroom. After finding two dead birds, one dead mouse and one live mouse (cowering silently in my closet) in my room before, I immediately ran after him.
When I got to my room I heard the familiar shuffling around of my cats playing but then I heard something new. Panicked squeaks as a mouse fought to get away from its captor. I turned on the light to see Demetri catch him, let him go, and then catch him again in his mouth.
My mother came into my room and laughed when she saw the mouse in Demetri's mouth. I yelled at her to get me a towel quick so I could take the traumatized mouse and place it in the ivy outside. Mom laughed and got the towel.
Mother laughed a lot that night.
For two hours, Damien, Demetri and I went from searching under my dresser, to my desk, to my bed to the whole entire room. The boys looked so confused and excited (those sadists.)
My mom laughed, obstructing the way, and making jokes. Finally I yelled at her to get out because I was feeling so stressed.
So, instead of working on Political Science homework, I moved around my furniture and fell asleep on the couch. I gave up and decided to let Damien and Demetri have at it. While I slept on the couch in the living room, I trapped the boys in the room without their canned food treat that night (although they always have dry food.)
The next day, I found half a mouse wrapped in a T-shirt that fell out of my dresser. I still haven't found the butt of the mouse.
|Damien when I try to pick him up|
I love them but it's like having my own little teenagers. Seriously, Demetri talks back! And Damien hisses at me when I try to pick him up! I miss when they were little kittens and stayed in the house instead of going out and fraternizing with street cats and bringing home strange animals.