It's mouse and bird hunting season for our aged cat. She killed and ate one bird yesterday while I was taking Bruiser for a walk. It's so very nice to come home to find an entirely deconstructed creature, all scattered feathers but minus its interior. Y'know, it's all surface--a postmodern kill.
Tonight, I heard her make a low yowling sound, which always indicates murderous intent. Mouse-icidal impulses. Indeed, she had a mouse in her mouth, which she dropped when the historian picked her up. This meant, with only minimal scampering, the mouse found a hiding place, which called for us to use the two-man mouse-trapping method. This involves a blanket and two people, one to shoo and the other to catch. Bonus: I moved a medium-sized pile of crap (bags, a purse or two, etc.) and found the mouse, which the historian (who has excellent hands) caught and released. Thanks, kitty!