My family owns a cat. Her name is Hendrix and yes we did name her for Jimi Hendrix because we're crazy like that ...and Jeff wouldn't let me name her Princess Bubbalicious. Hendrix isn't fixed so every once and a while she makes crazy mewling noises, rubs herself on every carpeted surface and follows Jeff around everywhere. So, when one very early morning she was making strange noises under our bed it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary were the additional noises not being made by the cat that were also coming from under our bed.
Now, my house is over 100 – 150 years old and some of our neighbours have let us know that they've seen birds and critters getting in to a hole near the roof. We've also heard some unexplained scritching and scratching in some of the walls. So it's not a huge surprise that something has managed to get in to the house, but it's under our bed so it's creepy and gross.
Here's how it all went down.
Setting: 5:00 am in the bedroom Jeff and I share.
Me: Jeff! I think Hendrix is stuck in a drawer or something she's making weird noises and keeps mowing. SHUT UP HENDRIX!
This dialogue was repeated two more times, until Jeff sat straight up in bed, suddenly awake.
Jeff: Shhhh! Do you hear that? She's got something under the bed.
Me: Oh God! What if it's a centipede. I hate centipedes!
I hid under the blanket, but then thought better of it because, well...there's no polite way to say this...we fart in bed and I don't want to die of methane poisoning.
Jeff: No. It's squeaking. Can't you hear it. It's an animal.
Me: What!?! What if it's a raccoon? You look and see what she's doing.
Jeff reaches for flashlight in his nightstand drawer. It won't turn on.
Jeff begins smashing the flashlight on his nightstand, because to make something work the best course of action is always to smash it. It works for the Hulk, right?
Me: There are two flashlights at the bottom of the stairs in the drawer go get one. I'm trying to sleep!
Jeff continues smashing the flashlight.
No, this one works see I almost...never mind.
Jeff gets flashlight while I doze off.
Jeff comes back to the bedroom and becomes the cat owner equivalent to a soccer mom on speed.
Oh it's a mouse!
(In sing-songy, higher pitched voice) C'mon Hendrix! Get me a mouse! Get me a mouse little girl! Get it! You get me a mouse!
This goes on for what seems like an eternity until Jeff's alarm for work goes off and the mouse escapes to our house's main level where Jeff (in his underpants) and Hendrix follow it.
I doze off again because it's a) freaking early in the morning and I have an hour left to sleep, B) I'm now used to the kitty cheer-leading, and C)did I mention it's freaking early in the morning?
Suddenly I hear pounding. Something is being smashed.
I hear the front door open and close.
Jeff praises the cat one last time and comes to bed.
Me: Where's the mouse?
Jeff: I killed it and threw it outside on the sidewalk.
Me: Ok...what'd you kill it with?
Jeff: The roll of paper towel.
Me: What?!? The fresh roll of paper towel?
Jeff: What? I took a couple of sheets off the roll. What's the big deal?
Hendrix: (All sad and dejected) You took away my toy. I'm going to puke in your shoes now. I hate you all!
I found the mouse dead and bloody on the sidewalk almost right in front of our house. Jeff said the neighbourhood cats would get it. Like a take-away snack.
I tried to kick the mouse into the street but the blood made it stick to the sidewalk and I may or may not have screamed like a little girl and flapped my arms around.