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Monday
Sep172012

The first rule of Kitten Fight Club

We have a fairly frantic morning routine around these here parts, mostly because both Rob and I cherish every single moment of sleep we can get, every single morning.  So if the alarm goes off at 6:15, I know I can stay in bed until about 6:32 before I start an avalanche that makes everyone in the house late for their respective school/job.  I'm telling you this so you'll understand that it takes an Event to bring the morning rush to a standstill, because we don't leave ourselves a moment to spare.

This morning I was helping Rob get Robbie to the car when Rob stopped suddenly and stared at the open bag of dog food on the garage floor.  He looked at me, eyes wide.  Then he looked at the dog food.  Then he looked at me.

"What is it?" I asked, impatient to get the easily distractable toddler into the car.

He looked at the dog food again, saying nothing, then looked back at me.  Obviously there was something going on that I should have seen and/or heard by now, but I just wasn't getting it.

"WHAT?" I demanded.

"There's a m-o-u-s-e in the dog food bag, jumping to get out," Rob said.

Ooooohhhh.  My goal was suddenly to see the mouse without letting Robbie know it was in there, because he would most likely want to cuddle it and name it Thomas.

Rob guided Robbie to the car, while I had visions of mouse poop and hantavirus and wondered about the best way to get that thing out of my garage without touching any part of a rodent.  Then I peeked inside and learned there were actually four mice in the bag, alternating between snacking on Ol' Roy Healthy Mix and trying to leap to their freedom.

"Should we carry the bag outside?" I said.  "I guess we should also throw the food away, because they probably pooped in it and stuff."

Rob took that as a suggestion to close the bag and throw the whole thing in our big plastic garbage can outside.  I imagined the poor, panicked little disease-carriers closed up in the dark, awaiting their deaths and said, "Poor mice."

"Well, if they can get out of there, more power to them.  I'm late for work," Rob said.

"Is it bad that my first thought was to go get the kitten and throw him in the bag with the mice?" I asked.

"Um, there are four mice in there, and he's a kitten," Rob said.  "That would be like sending a toddler to Fight Club."

"At least I didn't actually do it."

Oh yeah, I should probably go ahead and mention that we got a kitten last week.  Look:

That is Sullivan Butterbean McDonnell, Esq., or Sully for short.  Now, I've never been much of a cat person, but I believe Sully can only be described as "totes adorbz." For now, I suppose it's ok for him to live here without having to earn his keep.  He provides plenty of snuggles and entertainment.  But someday he's going to be significantly less cute and might start peeing on my stuff.  When that day comes, I expect him to be a fluffy, cuddly little assassin.

Watch your backs, mice.

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Reader Comments (4)

Luckily I opened this while Rowan was at school, otherwise she would already have her bags packed and be halfway to Colorado to move in with you and Sully. Hmm. Depending on her behavior, I might show her this when she gets home...

Also "totes adorbz" is really the only descriptor I could think of as well.

September 17, 2012 | Unregistered Commenterrkmama

Does Rob realize we've had that very conversation?

I think mice would make a perfect addition to your family. Heh.

September 17, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterPammeey

We had mice living in the metal cabinet of our grill when we came back from China. I screeched and had to wait for Brooke to come home. I am a sad, sad feminist, I guess.

September 18, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterKate

The mice are disgusting. The cat is adorable! So thankful Sully didn't have to prove himself worthy by battling the mouse patrol.

September 26, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterLisa @ Grandma's Briefs

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