June 25th, 2005

the guest entertains

The mouse that got away.

She emails me. Stuff’s broken again on the sites. Somehow fixing the PHP templates broke something else. And to top it off, comments aren’t being posted.

At this point I feel compelled to tell you that I have three cats. It will all make sense in a moment.

Calvin is a domestic medium hair mouse hunter. He’s a bruiser. He weighs in close to 15 pounds these days and it’s ALL insulation. Despite this he manages to be quite adept and catching mice. Despite being so threatening to mice, Calvin is very friendly with people. (He knows how to play “fetch” too).

Georgio is a Persian (He’s brown, but my wife calls him “Mocha”). He’s human hunter. If you’re human he wants to bite you. He’s rather sly about it. He’ll pretend that he likes you and that he wants you to pet you. Then when you least expect it he sinks his teeth into you. He doesn’t bite me anymore, but that’s another story.

Then there’s Isabella. She’s a white Persian. She hates everybody. (The feeling is mutual). I once saw her hiss at her own shadow. She does not like to eat anything except for cheerios in milk. No tuna or liver for her. ‘Nuff said, she’s “different.”

So I’m looking at broken templates. Five thousand nested div tags. Great, this will be easy to figure out.

I hear something to my right. It’s Georgio. He’s found a mouse. He doesn’t know what to do with it. The Persian inbreeding seems to have rendered him “confused.” It’s not human. He doesn’t want to bite it. He paws at it a little and it runs away.

Isabella is nowhere to be seen. Not that it matters, she’s pretty much useless as cats go. She would never get her paws dirty and did I mention she only eats cheerios? (She does eat cat food occasionally, but she definitely prefers cheerios).

And Calvin you ask? Our resident mouse hunter? I quickly go to find him. He’s on the couch napping. OK big guy, I’ve got a job for you. I say the word “mouse.” His ears perk up a little and he licks his chops. He actually knows the word. Then he yawns. He’s not moving. I pick him up and feel his fat rolls consume my hands. It still amazes me that he can catch mice. I take him back into the kitchen where I saw the mouse.

After setting him down he just kind of stands there dazed and confused. “Didn’t you hear me? – MOUSE.” No can do. Apparently Calvin does not hunt mice when interrupted during his nap. The mouse is nowhere to be seen.

Calvin finds a nearby basket to resume his nap.

I resume working on the sites.

Calvin is still napping even as I write this. He must be saving his energy for later. Either that or he’s working on further improving his layer of insulation.

I still have a mouse in my house. To the feline species: You disappoint me.