What A Puss

Every night, when Avery and I come home, we are greeted at the door by our two cats, meowing and begging for their dinner.

It wasn't always this way. When we only had Brooke, we could leave her food bowl filled at all times. She's good at self-regulating food and would graze daintily all day.

When Seamus joined the family we quickly learned that he dined with all the grace of a Hoover vacuum. Often eating so much so fast that it would cause him to vomit up a pile of mostly unchewed food. Yes...eating so fast, that he did not even take the time to chew it up.

After an embarrassing trip to the vet for their annual checkups (and the vet not listening to my protestations of "but he's big-boned") we now have to feed the cats set portions twice a day. We also have to feed them separately, so Seamus does not eat Brooke's food. Further? We have to put golf balls in Seamus' bowl. This supposedly forces him to eat around those, which slows down his eating.

To add to that charming visual, let me give you this: Seamus has to be touching me at all times and will gnaw on anything plastic in the house -- easter eggs, bags, toys, credit cards....I refer to him as my "special needs" cat, but I could not love him more. He purrs the second you pat him and when I say "bubbles" he will come running (with his gigantic stomach swinging from side to side) so that he and Avery can pop bubbles as I blow them. He is always available to take a nap with me, and is just the sweetest cat in the world.

Last night, when we walked in, we were greeted by only one cat -- Brooke. Odd, because of the two, Seamus is usually the more eager for his dinner.

I went downstairs and found him on the rug in the bathroom -- next to a tiny baby field mouse. The mouse was completely unharmed and seemed okay -- except for his ridiculously fast heartbeat.

Because I am so good in emergencies, I shooed Seamus out of the bathroom, closed the door, and waited for Tim to get home. While we waited, my two-year-old said to me, "Daddy is much better at this stuff."

Tim came home and put the mouse in a box and he and Avery walked outside and let the mouse go.

Yes -- I know that the mouse will come back. I also know that we probably need an exterminator and where there's one baby mouse, there are likely other mice. However, in every scenario the cute little mice do not live happily ever after, so at this point, I am unwilling to discuss that.

The part that I love? In a house with two (hungry) cats -- one was completely ambivalent and one befriended the mouse.