So Psycho Kitty (may he rest in schizo peace) was an excellent guard cat. I live in a wooded area, and there are ALWAYS spiders, bugs, and even snakes in my house. (Read more about my scintillating snake history HERE.) Luckily I have yet to see a snake (it’s early yet), but the spiders are out in full force. And my remaining cat, Simple Miller (he’s special) does NOT give two kibbles about chasing bugs and being all predatory. I really dislike that about him.

So last week I go to wash my hair and there above me…is this.

You can’t really tell but he was HUGE. As in I needed a WMD to nuke him down. This spider could’ve taken over the world. And he was RIGHT OVER MY HEAD. Staring at me. Daring me to wash my hair so he could jump in it and do his spider business.

But does my cat who should be into stalking and hunting care?

“Purring…sleeping…eating…staring at the floor…what else is it I’m supposed to be doing?”

So yeah, had to take the octopus-sized spider down myself. And on the same day my friend Sheila, who is the funniest person I know and recently got married, had a critter encounter herself. I could describe it for you. But instead, here’s her email. Directly copied. Without permission. Violating her rights of privacy. Who cares.

Let me start out by reminding you that I have THREE (count ‘em) THREE CATS.

So Joel bought a gas grill with his Lowes gift cards that we got for gettin hitched.
So last night Joel grilled pork chops.
So today Sheila decided that trash smelled particularly ripe from the Styrofoam thing the pork chops were wrapped in.

So I don’t remember if the door to the trash was open or closed (it’s in a little trash closet if you will) but what I do remember is pulling the bag out of the can (can you call it a can if it’s rubbermaid?) and thinking, “hmm, not much in here, sure is light, but sure does stin..”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I am not afraid of mice. But when one crawls OUT of the trash can, over my hand, and scurries behind the refrigerator I tend to scream bloody murder.

So then Joel, my husband of 9 days, saunters in (I kid you not, it may have actually been more of a leisurely stroll) and casually asks “What’s wrong?” Thanks honey

I apologize for screaming like a girl and explain that what looked like a rat just tried to kill me. And now it’s behind the fridge.

So Joel proceeds to pull out the fridge. I find two of the three cats and position them strategically in the kitchen….

Nothing. Great, he’s going to think I made this all up.

Finally Moses starts sniffing around and the cutest little mouse (it looked much more sinister as it tried to gnaw off my hand) scurries under the dishwasher.

FANTASTIC!

So I grab a thing. It’s one of those awful As seen on TV! things. This one’s main use is to get the lint out from the hole that holds the lint catcher in the dryer vent. But wait, there’s more!
Shut up, it seemed like a brilliant purchase at the time, and in my defense I bought it at Bed, Bath and Beyond. Not from those TV guys that pretend to be sorry they won’t let you pay by C.O.D.

So Joel gets down on his ample belly on the kitchen floor with this giant pipe cleaner (that can double as an extra arm of your fake Christmas tree in a pinch) and I am envisioning him being pulled under the dishwasher by some R.O.U.S (that’s basically a giant rodent for those of you keeping score at home)
and do you know what he has the audacity to do?

The cats love their fake mice. You know the kind, they used to be made of poor unfortunate rabbit fur until PETA threw a fit and now they’re made of furby fur? The cats eat their tiny fake leather mouse tails and then bat them around until they get bored. Inevitably they disappear. Under the couch, under the bed, under the dishwasher…..

So while I’m expecting a real live rodent to come hightailing it out from underneath the fridge, Joel finds one of the fake ones.
Not the Hunter orange one, not the Old Navy teal one…. the black one.

He pulls it out from underneath the fridge, screams…as though he’s in eminent danger and slings the fake mouse in my general direction.

Screaming ensues.

the worst part is that it scared the cats more than it scared me! They took off out of the kitchen and haven’t gone back in yet.

No we don’t have mouse traps (hello, three cats!)

No, I don’t know where the mouse is.

Yes, I am fairly certain it’s still in the house.

This is why I am still awake at 11ish p.m. even though I have to sub for 8th grade tomorrow! (I’m totally using any down time to finish the Katie parker series..LOVE it…) (I’d ask you if there is going to be a fourth installment but I’m not sure if you’d get the humor of it)

Anyhoo, We get onto the cats ALL THE TIME for bringing dead and half-dead, clinging to life lizards into the house all the time…. but a mouse somehow gets into the house and they run for the hills!

We’re going to visit my mom this weekend, so I really hope the mouse gets the heck out of dodge before then.

But with my luck, he’ll jut invite all his friends.

Good stuff. If anyone deserved a grill for getting hitched, it’s her.

On a final note, I about had a coronary Wednesday night on Idol. I had recently become aware of the plague sweeping the tween culture known as “David Archuletta Must Be the Next American Idol.” And I was scared. Very scared. These guys can text in their sleep. So when Seacrest (did you see him dancing? What the heck? Stop that!) said the winner had an additional 12 million votes I thought we were sunk. But it turns out the new median age for Idol viewers is 40 and the right David won. There is justice in the world. I like Archuletta, I just…he has some marinating to do. Actually I think Syesha will probably hang her star on Broadway and show them all, but whatever.

Have a great Memorial weekend. May it be free of ROUS’s.