It is a rainy Saturday.. a good day to lie in bed and watch old movies, nap, read, get the idea.

But the rain all week has given my cats cabin fever and they started the morning off by fussing with each other. It’s been cold and rainy all week. Reluctantly I let them out when they get like this because they’re stir crazy, but I know what will happen. Five minutes later they’ll want back in because it’s raining. Then five minutes after THAT they’ll want back out because well, ‘Mom, there’s nothing to do and we’re bored.’ ‘Mom, Parker is hissing at me.’ ‘Mom, Baby sleeping in my favorite spot.’ “Mom, ..”

I had been wanting to tackle the back bedroom where Sara lives and do a real spring cleaning so I decided this was the perfect day for it. ..after I relax and have a couple cups of coffee and some breakfast.

“Mom, we’re hungry.” You can’t relax when 10 cats are jumping on the bed, walking across you, butting up against your hot coffee so you almost spill it all over the comforter. You can’t relax when your dog looks at you with those, “Don’t you love me anymore? You know I have to go out” eyes.

So the day begins at 7 a when I wanted it to begin at 8:30a, maybe 9a. Yeah, that’s gonna happen.

Once everyone is fed, walked, watered, and scooped, it’s my turn. The rain stopped for a bit so I decided to let them out if only for a brief while to run around on the soggy forest floor and pee in the pine straw.

Six months of Sara living exclusively in my back office/bedroom has taken its toll and the carpet needs more than its regular vacuuming. It needs deep shampooing. That’s my day…or morning anyway.

As I prepare the pet cleaner and move things around, I see Tommy is still in the house. Everyone else has gone out, but Tommy has apparently decided to stay in with his mom. He comes strolling out of my bedroom carrying a little toy. I don’t have my glasses on, but I see it’s one of those fake mouse toys with the real hair. Whenever I go to cat shows or Petsmart, I stock up on those things because the cats love them and routinely “kill” them.

“Good Tommy, glad you’re staying in with me and playing with the toys,” I tell him as I get ready to shampoo carpets. Tommy hardly ever plays with the toys anymore. At 13, he’s usually content to sleep most of his day away.

“Which toy is that, Tom?” I ask. The lights are off in the great room and I can’t see clearly. So he drops it on the rug to show me ….. and it runs away!

It’s a little field mouse. I’m not afraid of mice. I think they’re cute.

There’s a hole somewhere under my bathroom sink in the ensuite. I thought I had patched it. The cats had been watching the cabinet door this morning in the ensuite, but they like to go in there anyway so I didn’t think anything of it. Apparently, they heard this little mousie in there.

Well the little mousie runs all over the living room, under the firewood, along the wall and into the back office/bedroom – Sara’s room. “Great, if he heads under the closet door in that room, I’ll never find him,” I tell Midgie who’s intrigued at all the fuss and goings on. She didn’t see the mouse, but she knows something is up.

That closet is stacked to the ceiling with “stuff.” It’s the kind of closet that if you open it too fast, the last 10 years of your life falls out. It’s the closet where you put things you don’t know where to put anywhere else. It’s where you jam things that had been piling up on the kitchen table before company came over last Thanksgiving and they’ve been in there ever since and it’s got a million perfect hiding and nesting places for a scared little field mouse.

I had been moving furniture around in Sara’s room and she was scrunched up in a corner when the mousie scooted by her at top speed. “Yay!” I’m sure she thought as she took off in hot pursuit.

A couple weeks ago I was in Atlanta and spent hours at the IKEA. I love IKEA. I want to live in one.

While there I stocked up on deals in the housewares dept. $5 wicker pet bed – WITH my choice of cushion, $9 Roman shades.. I bought two.. and a 152 piece tupperware-type cannister storage set for $4. Ok, not a 152 pieces…but a lot. Several of them were the tall, deep kind for storing…well tall, deep things, I guess.

Anyway, as the little mousie ran from behind the desk to behind the dresser to under the rolling file cabinet and back again, I remembered the tall, deep cannister thingies and decided that would be perfect for trapping mousie. I barracaded the closet door so he couldn’t run under it into the closet and ran to get the tall, deep cannister turned mouse trap.

The next hour was spent with me and Sara chasing mousie around, but finally we wore him out. I was able to corner him and put the cannister over him. Slid a piece of cardboard underneath and voila, mouse trap.

I removed him safely to the rock wall at the edge of the property but not before giving him a stern talking to about the dangers of looking for food in a house full of cats. He’ll be back. He’s a mouse. He doesn’t understand English.

After that, it was time for my second cup of coffee.