This is my cat:
Her name is Prunella. A friend jokingly named her that when she was a kitten because she was the runt of the litter and looked like a little prune. It stuck. Now she’s 14.6lbs despite her tiny frame and is on the Catkins diet (low carb, high protein). She spends her days napping and refuses to play even when we whip out the laser pointer.
I’ve never, in any of the EIGHT apartments I’ve lived in since graduating college in 1998, EVER have seen a mouse in my home. I’m a little surprised since as a residence life/housing professional for most of those years, I’ve had to live in (sometimes very nice, sometimes not-as-nice) apartments in residence halls.You know, dorms. With students. Some who don’t have the best cleaning skills.
So imagine my surprise when Sunday afternoon I walked into the kitchen to start the dreaded task of scrubbing a month worth of holiday baking dust and spills off my cabinets and floor, only to see a chubby gray mouse bolt across the floor between the stove and into the tiniest of cracks near the dishwasher.
Where was my cat? Lounging in her bed, lazily licking a paw. As if she was getting ready for a catered dinner. What’s the point of having a cat?
It’s been two days and I still haven’t caught the mouse. We bought a trap that will allow us to release the little rodent and I placed it with a feast of peanut butter on the floor in between my cabinets and the fridge. Nothing. Then a colleague told me it needs to be where the mouse was chilling out. So I placed it near the dishwasher. Nada.
So, is it possible that my mouse was simply an inexperienced cat burglar checking out whether there were any fallen Cheerios to munch on? Perhaps he realized my floors are too clean and found another abode to bother?