useful after all
Dec. 18th, 2007 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Post-dinner, Z and I retire to bed, he for a quick nap and I to peruse the Internet.
*crash* *bang* *scrabble, scrabble*
Sigh. "Chita, what are you doing?" I assume she has knocked down a baking pan that was precariously perched on a countertop, which her acrobatics have previously threatened.
*squeak*
*squeeeeak*
This, in case it is not plain, is not a noise a cat should make.
"Jesus Christ, why is she making that noise?!"
Z and I both start up. He is out the door before me. He goes, not to the kitchen as I had thought, but to the bathroom. "Oh shit!" he says, terrifying the crap out of me. "Oh shit!"
"What's happened??!" I ask, nearly frantic.
"It's the-- the thing again!"
*squeeak*
It is a terrified rodent making that awful noise. Chita's got it cornered in the garbage can. It rustles frantically. She is trying to find it behind the can. She is terribly excited and glad we are helping. As I come into the room, she folds herself in half over the edge of the garbage can, rooting around through the papers in it for the frantically-rustling creature.
"Let's shut the door and dump it out," I say. But we still can't see it, can't tell if it's a mouse or rat. It can't be terribly big, if it's in the garbage can.
"Let's empty the garbage into a bag and put it outside," Z says, a little more clear-headed.
"Oh, right," I say, a little deflated. But I don't really want Chita engaging in a locked-down cage match in our bathroom either.
I grab a bag, and bring it to the bathroom. Z has retreated. I pick up the garbage can, which rustles frantically. Chita yowls in excitement. "Z!" I shout. "Where did you go? Hold the goddamn bag!" I can't dump this thing one-handed into a bag I'm holding one-handed. What if I miss?
He comes back, having put pants on, and holds the bag. I dump the garbage in. Something thrashing goes with it. He puts his hands together to hold the bag shut. I put the trash can down. "Now what?"
He goes to the door, opens it, and chucks the bag out, without even tying it shut. Why tie it shut? If the mouse comes right back inside, we'll let Chita have it this time.
"It's a mouse," he says.
I hold my thumb and forefinger about three inches apart. "That big?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Bigger," he says. "But not much."
"That's a big mouse," I say. But it's too small to be a rat.
Chita is mournfully investigating the mostly-empty garbage can. She cries a bit, so I go and give her some treats and play with her fake mousie with her for a while.
Z goes to bed.
I imagine we'll be dealing with this again.
Z is sure he heard it in the toilet again. I don't think I did. There was no water in the garbage can. It must be getting in via some dry route.
But a mouse, I know, can fit through a much smaller hole than a rat can.
Good kitty, anyway.
*crash* *bang* *scrabble, scrabble*
Sigh. "Chita, what are you doing?" I assume she has knocked down a baking pan that was precariously perched on a countertop, which her acrobatics have previously threatened.
*squeak*
*squeeeeak*
This, in case it is not plain, is not a noise a cat should make.
"Jesus Christ, why is she making that noise?!"
Z and I both start up. He is out the door before me. He goes, not to the kitchen as I had thought, but to the bathroom. "Oh shit!" he says, terrifying the crap out of me. "Oh shit!"
"What's happened??!" I ask, nearly frantic.
"It's the-- the thing again!"
*squeeak*
It is a terrified rodent making that awful noise. Chita's got it cornered in the garbage can. It rustles frantically. She is trying to find it behind the can. She is terribly excited and glad we are helping. As I come into the room, she folds herself in half over the edge of the garbage can, rooting around through the papers in it for the frantically-rustling creature.
"Let's shut the door and dump it out," I say. But we still can't see it, can't tell if it's a mouse or rat. It can't be terribly big, if it's in the garbage can.
"Let's empty the garbage into a bag and put it outside," Z says, a little more clear-headed.
"Oh, right," I say, a little deflated. But I don't really want Chita engaging in a locked-down cage match in our bathroom either.
I grab a bag, and bring it to the bathroom. Z has retreated. I pick up the garbage can, which rustles frantically. Chita yowls in excitement. "Z!" I shout. "Where did you go? Hold the goddamn bag!" I can't dump this thing one-handed into a bag I'm holding one-handed. What if I miss?
He comes back, having put pants on, and holds the bag. I dump the garbage in. Something thrashing goes with it. He puts his hands together to hold the bag shut. I put the trash can down. "Now what?"
He goes to the door, opens it, and chucks the bag out, without even tying it shut. Why tie it shut? If the mouse comes right back inside, we'll let Chita have it this time.
"It's a mouse," he says.
I hold my thumb and forefinger about three inches apart. "That big?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Bigger," he says. "But not much."
"That's a big mouse," I say. But it's too small to be a rat.
Chita is mournfully investigating the mostly-empty garbage can. She cries a bit, so I go and give her some treats and play with her fake mousie with her for a while.
Z goes to bed.
I imagine we'll be dealing with this again.
Z is sure he heard it in the toilet again. I don't think I did. There was no water in the garbage can. It must be getting in via some dry route.
But a mouse, I know, can fit through a much smaller hole than a rat can.
Good kitty, anyway.
