I was stomping down the hallway this morning when I came across a rather
unusual sight: Curtis was chewing at something with an audience of two very
attentive cats.  I figured that whatever Curt had, if it had got the cats'
attention, it was worth a look.  (As you know, there is nothing like a
ferret to reduce a cat's appetite or interest...so this had to be something
special.)
 
Curtis' stubby little arms were spread wide to encompass the length of a
little brown mouse he had pinned down by the head and tail.  He was chewing
at it like some decidely non-vegetarian corn-on-the-cob.  For its part, the
mouse was not looking very lively (ie. "deadly").
 
It took me a second to determine exactly what he was chewing on, and that
second was long enough for Curtis to decide the audience had grown too large
(and posssibly rowdy).  He snatched up his prize, and head held high, ran
like hell.  What followed was a 15-minute high speed chase around the
apartment, with Curtis masterfully eluding the authorities.
 
The mouse was finally siezed, wrapped in the white flags of surrender
(toilet paper), and given a Burial at Sea.  The funeral was attended by four
(Myself, Curtis, Maddy and Sid.) Curt solemnly hung over the toilet, hind
legs kicking, as the body was prepared.  The cats were quietly puzzled.
 
Two of the funeral attendees left the service before the the raging waters
carried the body away, quietly filing out into the hallway to look for more
mice.  A third griever stayed briefly to pay respects, and then ran off to
bite the cats.  The fourth was left to ponder how the Mice of Spring had made
it up to the fourth floor of our building.  Hmmm.  Die Fledermaus?  Hmmm.
 
Hoping the kids next door didn't have a special pet,
 
Lynn.
[Posted in FML issue 1535]
[Posted in FML issue 1535]