But it goes away, and you hear the sprinklers, and you know you are safe.
|I love this picture of Skilly. Eric was pursuing iTunes' '80s music, and|
the cat just looks like he's had enough of that kind of crap.
Skilly comes to your pillow for a quick pat on the head, and then he's jumping over your body like a maniac. And you hear the loud squeak again. You're tired, and still trying to figure out what that last dream meant, so it takes you a full minute to realize what's going on.
And then it hits you.
MOUSE IN THE BED.
So you jet out of bed with such speed that Prefontaine would be impressed, and you may or may not shout, OH NO YOU DIDN'T!
Which wakes up your husband, but honestly, that was kind of the point.
Your husband gets out of bed and turns on the light, and there's a very much alive mouse peeping out from a fold in the bedspread. It's kind of adorable, actually, but it's also vermin, so obviously it must die.
Skilly gives zero craps about his duties as a cat, and just bats it around periodically, or else does one of his freaky high leaps on top of the thing, only to let it go so he can play around with it some more. So your husband has to get the dustpan and the broom, and you help by opening up the door and freaking the hell out and then going to lay on the couch because NOTHING is going to get you back in that mouse-infested bed ever again.
But your husband assures you that it was not in the sheets, just the bedspread, so you help him take it off. ("Careful," he says as the two of you fold it up, "there's mouse poop in there.") You kind of wonder if he's lying about the mouse not being in the sheets, but you're tired and you don't really want to sleep on the couch after all, so you put another blanket on the bed and crawl in and turn off the light and snuggle down.
And then try not to jump every time Skilly jumps at a non-existent mouse in the bed. Honestly, it's kind of cute how confused he is about where his mouse went, except now it's 2 a.m. and that kind of cuteness is not exactly appreciated, if you know what I'm talking about.
***This is not the first time Skilly has brought a mouse to bed -- but THAT particular mouse was dead, at least, even though he kept dropping it on top of us to share until we figured it out. Having a cat is kind of overrated, now that I think about it.