Bye Bye Bird

As a cat owner, 3 times over, I have taken part in my fair share of small animal rescues. And failed rescues. There have been plenty of dead animals dropped on my doorstep, or even sometimes brought inside. On a few occasions, I have been lucky enough to rescue these small creatures and set them free.

This is not one of those stories.

First of all, we should go back to the end of January. While Justin and I watched tv, I could hear squeaking outside. I got up to look, and there was Nebula, our 8lb mishmash kitten, with a baby mouse. “Oh my gosh, Justin! Nebula caught a mouse!” It was a baby mouse, and after she brought it inside, I chased her around until she dropped the poor baby. It was mostly dead, but anyone who is a fan of The Princess Bride knows that mostly dead is still alive. I brought that little baby out front and put it in my flowerbed. Not even 5 minutes later, I hear the squeaking again. Oh no, not again!

I wasn’t sure if I had just two times rescued the same mouse, or if this was a new mouse. When I brought the mouse out front, its sibling was still alive and still in the garden. Nebula was just raiding a nest. Cheap hunt, Nebula.

The next morning I went outside, and stumbled upon a massacre. Captain SparklePaws had obviously stumbled upon the baby mice, and decided they were most definitely left there for him to snack upon. All that was left were pieces–a tail, a head, a couple feet. Nebula walked outside, took one look, and then looked back at me as thought I had wronged her: “Is this some kind of joke?! I hunted and trapped these mices, and you let someone else eat them!” She didn’t speak to me all day.

I kept waiting for more babies to be brought to the door, but we spent 2 months without any gifts, dead or alive.

Until yesterday.

Justin was walking past the back door and stopped. “Oh my gosh Sammi, Nebula has a bird!” No she doesn’t. Not possible. While he’s trying to stop her from entering through the doggie door, I snuck a peak. Oh my gosh, what do you know!? I immediately ran outside and attempted to save this little bird. Of course, if you’ve ever tried to take a live bird out of a cat’s mouth, it doesn’t matter if she is 8lbs or 800lbs, you will lose an arm. While she grumbled and growled the equivalent of “don’t you frigging touch my bird,” I tried to convince her to put it down so I could save it. Which is when she got up and jumped through the doggie door. “JUSTIN!!!! Stop her!!!” He had given up watching and had moved on with his life, so I was on my own.

I chased Nebula in the house, and up the stairs. I made it to the top just in time to watch her slink into Shea’s room. “Someone get me a paper towel!!!” I once again took my chances with my life. And once again, Nebula threatened to trade her mouse for my entire arm. Once again, she was on the move. For the love of all creatures everywhere, let the bird go.

She ran under Shea’s bed, and there was no way I could reach her. Finally, the bird managed to escape the grips of Nebula’s jaw, and it hippity hopped out and directly at me. Success! The bird was now mine!

The problem now was, where do I let this poor thing go that it won’t end up in the mouth of Nebula again. I took it out front and showed Justin that I was successful. She had lost a few tail feathers, and a few wing feathers, so I wasn’t sure of her ability to fly.

Justin and I stood outside for a few minutes, with the bird safely hidden under Justin’s car. It was starting to look like we were out of the woods.

Until, of course, the neighbor’s cat wandered over. “Oh hey y’all. I heard mention of a bird? Thought I would check out the situation.”
Meow-Meow Kitty, as we call her, is extra super friendly. She often comes over and sits outside our front window, and cries–until Captain SparklePaws decides to go outside and head out on hunting adventures.

She rubbed up against Justin’s leg, hung out next to him for a couple minutes, and then slowly made her way over to his car. “Oh…is that a bird??”

The bird flew out from under his car, flew two sad, low laps around his vehicle, landed, and was immediately scooped up by Meow-Meow Kitty. Are you kidding me?! “Meow-Meow Kitty, no! I just saved that bird!!!” She didn’t give a toot, and slowly pranced home, bird in mouth. I know my neighbors well enough to say hi if I see them outside, but, at this moment, I had to make a decision–chase down her cat on her front lawn and wrestle a bird out of the cat’s mouth, or admit my failure yet again.

I’m beginning to think maybe I’m not so good at this whole rescue and release biz.

Teach Me to Hunt

Let’s get one thing straight: I have never, in my 35 1/2 years, shot a gun. I’ll give you a moment to gasp, or pass out, or shout, “wait, what?!” I know, I know, Infantry Husband, who shoots guns frequently, blah blah blah. Nope, no desire.

My disinclination to shoot a weapon has not stopped Captain SparklePaws from trying desperately to teach me, or anyone in this house, how to hunt.

In another case of stolen valor, you’re about to learn that Captain SparklePaws has not served a day in the military. He is an awesome, polydactyl cat (which, by the way, is a real thing and not a deformity).

I’ve lost count of the number of dead mice gifts this year, let alone ever. Thanks, Captain.

After Emma came along, Captain gave up on the pathetic humans in the house, and worked on teaching her.

Step 1: Introduce dead mouse; observe new cat’s reaction.

– New cat swallowed mouse whole. Success.

Step 2: Bring home mostly dead mouse and see what new cat does with it.

– New cat chased, caught, and ate mostly dead mouse, while human chased her shouting, “Emma, NO!” Success.

Step 3: Bring home live mouse and watch new cat hunt, catch, and kill it.

– Human keeps saving mice, but on the rare occasion she doesn’t get to them, the new cat has been 100% successful with mouse hunting. My work here is done.

Also, I’m not crazy (says everyone who is crazy, but isn’t willing to admit it)–Captain really is entirely unaware that Emma is a 50lb boxer. We probably should’ve had the older sibling talk with Captain: Yes, she’s smaller than you, and you can beat up on her now, but someday she’ll be bigger than you, and she’ll be winning these little wrestling matches. That talk should’ve happened a year ago–now it’s too late and it goes more like, “Emma, get Captain’s head out of your mouth.” Siblings.

Back to hunting–now that Captain has had so much success with teaching Emma how to hunt, he’s back to teaching the humans, because we’re still just the worst.

He also stares at me like I’m a total jerk when I throw the mouse pieces (yeah. I said pieces) over our fence. All while Emma bounces around, basically saying, “no wait, Mom, what are you doing! He brought that mouse butt for ME!!!” Then she stares at me like I am the meanest human on the face of this earth.

Last week, I threw a head-on-backwards mouse, left handed, in the dark, without my glasses on…the next morning I realized it was not only hanging from our fence (like some Vlad the Impaler-style warning to the mouse community: STAY AWAY), but it had frozen to the fence. Which took a bit of kicking, and a bit of apologizing (to the mouse).

Just a sampling of the delicacies brought to our patio.

Thank you for all of this, Captain, but I think it’s time you accept that I will not ever be impressed with your gifts.

Tonight, I found a head. I’m not sure if he thought, “maybe she’d like to try a different piece of mouse,” or perhaps he got carried away snacking and forgot that he promised Emma the whole mouse.

Or maybe it was a guilt thing: “you didn’t check to make sure I was in the house before you left for work, and I had to eat the entire mouse!”

Honestly though, is anyone else wondering what happened to the other mice heads?? Do you think he has some creepy mouse head trophy room? Do cats keep trophies? I’m putting way too much thought into this.