While I Was Nursing... Continued

First, I have to start off this post by mentioning an important detail to this story:

We got cats. A momma and a baby. If you know me, you know this is something I swore I would never do - I am just not an animal person. But do you know what? We live next to a field. And there are mice in fields. And I HATE mice.

We got the cats from a lady in Blackfoot. She said the mom caught mice and birds all the time - yay. We got a litter box, some cat food, and we set up a little bed for them in the garage. We were ready.

Every time I went out to see the cats, I expected a dead mouse. But for a couple of weeks - nothing. So I stopped mentally preparing myself for a mouse each time I went outside. 

Then on Friday morning I let the cats out into the yard, and when I came out the back door with their food, the cat dropped a dead mouse at my feet. Oh my goodness. SO GROSS! I jumped back and ran into the house to tell Sam he had to take care of it.

Fast forward to today, and Ellie and Nathan are outside playing while I nurse Jonah inside. Every once in awhile Ellie comes in to bring me a rock or a weed. After I had a pretty good pile of rocks on the couch next to me, she comes running in and says, "Mom! There's a mouse under the steps outside!" I asked her if it was alive or dead, and luckily the answer was dead. She was quite enthusiastic about it and told me how it couldn't run because the cat killed it, and that the cat was carrying it in its mouth, and how it was "just a little mouse." So I went out to survey the situation. 

The cat was standing over the mouse, so I tried to shoo her away, but she wasn't interested in leaving her catch. So I grabbed a shovel and tried to psych myself into picking the mouse up with it... And here is where I wish I had a video of what went on. Every time I tried to pick up the mouse, the cat would try to pick it up, and I would freak out and try to get it away (let's be honest, I really didn't want to watch the mouse get eaten). So I would frantically yell to the cat, "Get away! No, cat, stop! Go over there! Ellie, call the cat!" Ellie would call the cat, it would start to go over to her, and when I tried to pick up the mouse again, it would dart back over to me, which would startle me and make me drop the mouse again. I would scream, jump back, and say "Ew!" Then Ellie would do the same. This happened about 5 times before I finally got the stinking mouse onto the shovel. Then I dumped it into a disposable cup and carried it into the house at arm's length saying "Ew, ew, ew!" with my little shadow doing exactly as I did. 

Of course I had to document it for posterity's sake. 

We put another cup on top and taped it together (I didn't want to be able to see it, or worse squish it later...) before throwing it in the trash outside. You betcha we washed our hands thoroughly after that little rendezvous! 

Yuck! But as I told my mom today, better dead on my porch outside than alive in my laundry basket inside...

Now after that repulsive story, enjoy a cute picture of Nathan:

Ahh, much better.