Mouse Massacre

Today is trash day.  So in order to make sure nothing is missed, I went downstairs this morning before leaving for work.  And made the mistake of looking into the downstairs bathroom. 

The downstairs bathroom hasn’t worked since we bought the house a year ago.  First it was the lift pump that didn’t work (I cannot even begin to tell you what I owe my husband for figuring that out – the stench was unbelievable) and then we recently discovered that the only outlet for the lift pump to plug into is dead.  

Instead of using this room as a bathroom, it has a new use.  Mainly a small rodent killing room for our punk cat, Boca.  What he does is bring the mouse into the bathroom.  Play with it for a while and then kill and eat whatever parts look attractive to him.  This morning I found one full mouse, at least three massacred mice and quite a bit of dried blood on the floor.  

I grabbed the Clorox clean-up, a roll of paper towels, a mop and a plastic shopping bag to begin the task of covering up the murder and mayhem of rodents by the local hit cat.  Boca came meandering by as I was feverishly pumping Clorox all over the floor.  He stopped, looked into the room and yawned.  I called him a “Bad Cat!” and went back to work cleaning up his mess.  I may be wrong, but I think we may be getting into a routine with this issue. 

As I was cleaning up the mess (how in the hell did the cat get mouse blood on the side of the toilet?) I started thinking.  Now don’t shoot me, but I’m wondering if maybe the next time Boca does this, I should take a photo and include it with the Annual Family Christmas Letter.   After all, Boca is very proud of his hunting skills so as parents wouldn’t we be expected to include such examples in the annual Christmas letter?  Besides, it would sure beat a picture of the cat in front of the Christmas tree.

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