Tuesday, October 21, 2008


My chore boots live on the front porch next to the bench when I am not wearing them. They are chore boots. They get pretty manky and don't ever come in the house. Tonight I went out to bring the herd into the barn. Boots are required. (My MIG program deposits lots of high quality fertilizer on the pasture.) As is my habit, I sat on the bench to slide my boots on. I had to move Jag, our black barn cat and chief mouser, out of the way to sit down. I slid the left boot on, stomping to settle my foot into the warm interior. Next the right. As my right foot hit the bottom of the boot I felt a lump. Probably my sock got balled up. I pulled the boot off to fix my socks. That wasn't it. Must be something in the boot. I reached in and touched a small, warm, furry little body. Indignant that Jag had deposited a "gift" in my boot, I glared at him and upended it. As I tipped the boot, reaching back in to shift things to the top of the boot and out, ta cute brown field mouse ran up my arm, glared at me for disturbing its sleep, jumped to porch and disappeared into the yard. Jag yawned, stretched, and curled up in my seat on the bench.

Now you know why we are not winning the Mouse War and why my manky chore boots are on the tray, just inside the kitchen door.


themanicgardener said...

Yup. Now we know. What is it with some cats?

Daphne said...

LOL your cats just don't care anymore. When I was growing up we had both dogs and a cat. The cat never caught mice. The dogs however did. I keep thinking about a cat would be nice, but my husband is allergic and I'd only want a good mouser.

inadvertentfarmer said...

I was reading your post the whole time hoping it wasn't going to end the way it did...Holey Moley! As soon as I'm done posting here I'm going to go find my muckboots and more them inside. I swear your mouse wars give me the shivers! Keep fighting the good fight and let the cat know he needs to earn his keep for goodness sake. Kim

Alan said...

I was hoping it the story wouldn't turn out the way it did too. Of course, it could have been a well chewed mouse-gift from the cat. That might have been worse. I did tell Jag that if he didn't get to work he would get the boot, but he didn't seem too concerned.

Barbee' said...

One of my funniest memories is remembering my mother's squeal one Sunday when she slipped her foot into one of her pretty, dressy, high-heel shoes in her bedroom closet. There was a mouse in it.

jack-of-all-thumbs said...

At our house I figure we break even on the rodent wars. With six cats, including at least five confirmed hunters, we're protected from field rat problems that would otherwise plague us. But given the number of mice and voles that magically appear in the house (via the cat door) the whole thing is a draw.

This morning, the offering of the day was a vole.


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