Mice and Cameras and Disposable Income

We were on the futon, watching “House” last Thursday, when our cat, Jolie, sprinted into the office. Natania noticed that she was chasing something largish, or rather something larger than her usual fare: mosquito hawks, beetles, etc. I believe my wife’s exact question was, “Is she chasing a mouse?!” Interrobang added for emphasis.
Jolie was, in fact, chasing a mouse (‽), and because she’s fairly inept at anything that doesn’t include lounging around all day doing nothing, or whining for food, she let the mouse go. It darted off, under the desk, to hide beneath the heater coil. Not much we could do.
Then, a couple of days later, we finish up with a movie in the living room, and Natania spots Jolie prancing around the house, haughtier than usual. She’s caught that mouse, damn it, and she wants us to notice.
We do, and in the ensuing excitement, Jolie drops the mouse yet again. It goes under the couch. We’re wondering if our dumb cat will ever be able to put this poor, frightened rodent out of its misery.
Long story short, we lift the couch and the little bugger scampers off into the kitchen. I think Jolie damaged his leg, because he’s not very fast. I grab a glass dessert bowl and an old watercolor sitting around and trap him. Slide the watercolor under the bowl, and lift him up to show Jolie how much more catlike I am than she. Then out goes our little friend, into the front yard where, no doubt, he’ll somehow find his way back into the house. Or get eaten by a hawk due to his leg.
Domestic life is bliss.
Oh, we bought a camera yesterday. My conscious brain knows that it was a good investment, but there’s this little sliver of grey matter deep inside my amygdala, I think, that quivers and secretes pure unadulterated guilt whenever I make a purchase of over $40. My excitement over the new toy barely overshadowed the queasiness I felt when the guy swiped my bank card in his little machine and my account was assaulted by a $900 debit. Along with the buzzing of the flies in my wallet, I could hear my checkbook whimpering: “You did this to me… for a camera?!
I love the interrobang.


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