Wednesday, October 24, 2007

how can i make sure chuck klosterman sees this?

A few days before labor day, D. Ignatious Mammal and I were playing scrabble and noticed the Tinks with something in her mouth. I had a sneaking suspicion it was a mouse, and sure enough, it was. She hadn't hurt it at all, rather, she simply delivered it to our feet and seemed very indignant that we hapless and surprised humans let her offering escape, uneaten.

For several days, the Tinks, sick as she was, eyeballed the area under the stove, which is most certainly where the mouse had gained entry to our house.

Despite arming the kitchen with a landmine of humane (no-kill) mouse traps, the clever little fellow evaded our clutches, all the while taunting the Tinks with sudden appearances, even making a dash across the feet of my unsuspecting Grandma who visited over Labor Day weekend, along with my sister.

Like any good hostess, Tinks did her best to be social while Gramsterdam and the KillerIrishRobot were visiting, but was tuckered out by the time they departed and had curled up with a good book** by the time I left to take them home. I'd picked them up in Pittsburgh and WVU respectively, and delivering the ladies back home again took about 10 hours, round trip.

At first glance, it appeared that the Tinks hadn't left her perch on the bed. And then I looked closer.

Turns out that the Tinks had left us a little present. I'm not sure whether this is a sad story about a poor little dead mouse, a gross story about a mouse in the house (and on my BED!), a life-lesson that I should make my bed more often (note in my defense -- I kept the bed unmade so that Tinks could curl up in it more comfortably when we were gone) or an absurd but somehow heartwarming tale of a final gift and a last stand against a stated arch-enemy all wrapped up in one.

**Or maybe she just doesn't like Klosterman!

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